no new nothing

This is cliche, but it must happen. Brace yourself for the review of 2009.

January: I don't remember anything super special.

February: Here either.

March: J and I broke up. R and I went to spring training.

April: Lots of crying.

May: More crying, also drinking.

June: Lived at home for 2 weeks. Started dating.

July: C and I became a couple.

August: C and I aren't a couple anymore.

September: I want to rock and roll all night, and part of everyday.

October: I don't remember anything super special.

November: Here either.

December: Same as the last 4 months.

Little heartbreak, little happiness, stir together with a shot of tequila, and we'll call it 2009.

I'm not staying up until midnight to say hello to 2010. I'm not staying up to say goodbye to 2009. I'm staying up because I do it every night, and the only difference in tonight is that tomorrow I need to put up new calendars.

No resolutions. No promises to get healthier, save money, work harder, treat myself better, be a better someone. In 22 minutes nothing is going to change! I won't be a different person, and neither will anyone else. The magic of 'new years' isn't enchanting me this year. This is the first year this decade that I have no one to kiss at midnight. Seems a fitting end.

Yea, I guess I'm a little bitter tonight. What better way to sum up the year?

I don't need an excuse like tonight to drink champagne. I'll save it for a night when I'm happy to celebrate tomorrow. A new beginning happens when I say it does, not when I change the calendars.

Cheers.

L

oh, you.

Faced with the moment of truth, I cower. Not unhappy with my own lack of courage- I think I may have made the right decision. Follow your heart, right?

I'd rather be with you, whenever, than without you all the time

I can see it in his eyes. He still needs me just like I need him, and this morning, around 6am, it clicked. I was all lined up to tell him that I wanted more, that I am over the open relationship and the random phone calls, that I want some commitment from him... but... I didn't. I don't need to. When he's here, I'm happy. When he's not, I'm happy to think of him. I don't need to have a lock on him to know that he's mine on the inside. He gets frightened when caged, as do I lately, so this completely unusual situation ... works. It just works.

And I will forgive you, whatever, just to say that you were mine

This is still such a new territory. I've been a free agent for 9 months now, and I'm feeling no pain. Looking back on how damaged I felt months ago is heartbreaking, but refreshing- so refreshing- because I don't feel that way anymore. I have a new lease on life, and a totally new appreciation for love. 5 years ago I never would have pictured myself here. An open relationship? Never. But I'm refreshed! This is so freeing. I love my freedom, and I love love.

Somehow you got me, so I put up with anything you say

Maybe it is crazy. Maybe I've convinced myself of false truths to make things work out so that I can be happy. Maybe - and here's an interpersonal communication moment - I've taken the reframing approach to the autonomy/connection dialectic of this relationship and completely redefined my necessities. And maybe I'm completely sane, and just going a new direction. Maybe that's why everything happened how it did. Maybe everything does happen for a reason. Maybe that reason isn't just for me, but for him, too. Maybe there's a big plan here, and not just me tripping over new barriers and playing with the rules. And maybe I'm crazy. Maybe it's the butterflies.

You say that you love me- we both know you don't mean it everyday

That may the very best part. 7 months later, I still get the butterflies. I still get a rush when he calls. Who knows how, but I wake up when he calls in the middle of the night- and I have a history of sleeping through fire alarms. I still want to rush home to him. I still want to put his sweatshirt on before bed. I dream about him when he's sleeping right next to me- like I can't get enough on reality alone. I miss him when he's here because I don't have the capacity to soak up enough of him to last me the time he's not here. When I sing along in the car, I sing louder, stronger, better, when I'm thinking of him. He makes me sing again. I haven't stopped yet.

When I push in, you pull out, but you still need me.

I'm happy with my decision. I don't want to lock myself in. I like where we are, in this awkward limbo between love and real life. There's a fairy tale playing out, but unlike any I've heard before. It is a new storyline. A new storyline for the new me. For the happy me. For the me with the butterflies.

All over again.

L

*lyrics from September's Because I Love You

so this is...

oh wow.

I just realized that I am in love with you.

So in love with you, in such an unwarranted way, that I didn't even admit it to myself until moments ago.

What am I going to do about that. I've gone and tripped myself into love. Better yet, it's a big hole of love that I'm pretty sure I'm inhabiting alone. But... ya know... as much as I am surprised at my new discovery, I am not terribly upset.

I was happy to be home and in bed tonight because I knew I'd have my choice of you-scented pillows from which to choose. I had an amazing day today because I woke up to a kiss (or two, or three) from you. You are some kind of blessing in disguise. I love every second I spend thinking of you, and I can't help but think of you. Just can't help but.

It could be a horrible realization, knowing that I stumbled, and tripped, and fell strait down into love... but I can't help but smile. Smile. And smile. Mm.

So this is love...

So this is love.

So this is what makes life divine...

mm. wow. :)

L

*Lyrics from Disney's Cinderella's So This Is Love

imagination

Most nights I spend alone, watching prime time TV and eating Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Some nights I skip the candy and go strait for sleep. On the occasional night I throw caution to the wind and get into the wine. Every night, though, I imagine him. I make a mental picture of him, I can hear him whispering good night, I feel him kissing my forehead and waiting for me to fall asleep. The real thing isn't even as reliable as my devious imagination.

And even though I see him maybe once a week, and we talk maybe 3 times a week, I use him as an excuse to save me from all sorts of uncomfortable situations. The friend who insists on trying to be more than a friend? Sorry, I'm with him. The student who thinks we could have a shot when the semester's over? Sorry, I'm with him. The coworker who wants to create some kind of work-affair? Sorry, I have him. And he is everything I need.

But he is 50% imaginary. And my 'having' him is 99% imaginary. He isn't mine, and I'm not his, but when we're together-- in the daydreams or reality-- we're 100% each other's. That time is enough to drive my imagination wild for days, with or without him.

He awakens something in me that makes me not care if I'm alone the other 75% of the time. I'm happy with that. I'm happier with that than I've been without it. I'm happier with this than I've been in so long. Am I settling? Oh yes. But I'm settling in the most comfortable position...

I could barely imagine a more useful reality.

L

the pillow

I stopped smelling the pillow. I do still switch the pillows after he sleeps over so that I get to sleep on the one he had the night before, but I don't purposely smell the pillow anymore.

Hold your applause.

The pillow habit has been broken for a while now. I haven't even wanted the smell. But yesterday I entered a new phase: the sweatshirt phase.

This is why I told you to hold that applause.

The sweatshirt phase may, in fact, be a step backward. But it is such a cozy step! Instead of jonesing for a smell on a pillow, I am surrounded by smell. I can even put the hood up and sleep in smell. I don't need the silly pillow that only exists on my bed, I have sweatshirt which surrounds me entirely whenever and wherever I choose!

I'm concerned that eventually he'll want it back.... but until then, I'll be cozy, warm, and smiling.

This piece of fuzzy fabric makes me feel butterflies.

L

expectations

I can't help but expect love from my mother, support from my best friends, a good night out from other friends, advice from some, judgement from others. Generally I try to avoid the friends from whom I have come to expect judgement, but as my life has been changing its course I've seen my expectations violated. Some friends have decided that the course I'm turning toward isn't the best one, whether for selfless reasons or otherwise. I've had about enough of that.

Those expectations go both ways. I expect love and support from my friends, and they expect me to be the person they chose to be friends with. Does that mean if you become my friend at step 1, I cannot be a new person at step 10? No. Definitely not. (I definitely hope not.) But at which point between step 1 and 10 is it acceptable to break up with a friend who can't handle the changes?

My goals have changed drastically in the past 7 months. My lifestyle has changed. My thought processes have changed. My priorities have changed. If those were what created a friendship, then that friendship obviously won't last through them.

Thank you, friends, for being the kind I appreciate the most. If you are reading this, you are not the friend I plan to break up with somewhere between step 5 and 7. You are the friends who may suggest that I'm making a bad decision, you might point out a better idea, you sometimes choose to look away when you see me taking a path I ought not to, but you don't judge. You are the friends who understand that everyone needs to make their own way. You let me make my choices and you listen to me whine afterward, even if you knew better. You are the reason I don't let those judgmental friends get to me.

So thank you for not feeling too much like I've violated your expectations.

And thank you for living up to every one of mine.

L

the fall

The guy we love to hate.

Okay, you all hate him, there is no love in that. But I can't help it. He's had me hooked for months and I can't get enough. Tonight I am going to change your minds about him. Tonight, if I try hard enough, you might begin to understand.

I don't want to make the same mistakes I did.

He saved me.

When I was drowning in tears and heartache, he dug me out of that pit of hopelessness. He gave me something to look forward to day after day. He got me out of my room, he gave me a reason to be social again, he introduced me to new friends, and he reintroduced me to FUN. It had been so long since I had just plain enjoyed myself, with no thought to how that would affect anyone else. I didn't stop to think once if my hanging out with his friends and drinking and laughing all night would hurt him or hurt us or hurt me; and it didn't. It strengthened us. I enjoyed life, and we became closer because of it. He may not have meant to pull me out of the damage that was my failed attempt at a life in love, but he did. He did. And I do love him for that.

Won't see it coming when it happens, but when it happens...

He made me believe again.

Part of me is still skeptical. Hormones play with thought processes and make you think things that probably aren't real once the sun rises. Silly hormones. But I adore those hormones. I couldn't be me without them. I am not myself when I am skeptical of fairy tales, when I'm doubtful of the 'happily ever after', when I don't trust that every piece of life is building up toward something. Without that heart-racing, butter-flying, gut-wrenching, tear-jerking, all-consuming hormone parade inside me, I'm just not myself. I am a believer. I believe in love. And I believe in love after love. And I believe in happiness in the darkest places, and darkness in the sun. I believe in light and shadows and love. Love above all else. Love is everywhere. He reminded me that I need to believe.

You gotta take the good with the bad, happy and the sad.

He opened my eyes.

With all that potential for love welling up inside me, it is inevitable that I hit walls here and there. I'm constantly spilling with unexpressed emotion, so I tend to forget where I'm going, get distracted, allow myself to be misguided. Keywords, though: allow myself. I could protect myself. I could shield my heart from all the possibilities that the world has to offer, but where is the fun in that. What good would that do me. I need to fail. I need to hit walls. I need to fall in love and bounce back and do it again and again, and again. And I need to never stop doing it! Pain is a consequence of investing yourself completely in another person, but it is one I am aware of. I had forgotten it, having spent so long in a commitment with no consequence, good or bad. But I remember the pain now. I know the pain well. And the euphoria wouldn't feel nearly as good without the pain to compare to. I hate him for reminding me of the pain, but I appreciate the reminder so much more.

If it hits better make it worth the fall.

He makes me smile.

There are days when he makes my heart ache. Days when I forget about him. Days when he forgets about me. Days when we are dating other people. Days when we exchange glances and go on like nothing happened. But every single day, he makes me smile. He brought the smile back to my face, helped me believe again, showed me what I am fighting for, and above all he is still making me smile. Maybe it isn't the typical story. He doesn't dote on me day after day, but the guys who do aren't getting responses from me. He doesn't need to call me to say goodnight every night, because I don't need to hear his voice to have amazing dreams. He is there when I need him, and I am there when he needs me. When we are together, things fall into place. We smile more, and more honestly, in an hour together just watching TV than we do in a day separately. The feeling of a real smile, a real honest-to-goodness smile, the kind you literally cannot control or keep from sneaking up on your face, that is one of the best feelings in the world. That is love. That kind of inescapable happiness must be love. I don't mean to say that I love him, but I do love what he does to me. He makes me happy. He makes me the person I used to be. When I am with him I remember who I was before the world came crashing down, and it feels so amazing to be her again. Carefree, happy, loving, smiling me. And she... me... I can't help but adore him for giving me the chance to be myself again.

Sometimes love comes around and it knocks you down

Just get back up when it knocks you down

I may not have been able to persuade you to love him, or even like him, but I hope I at least helped to bridge the gap. Don't hate him. Anything he's done to me, any pain I've expressed, I've allowed him to inflict. And I may cry and complain, but that pain is what makes love finding. If Pandora's box never opened, what difference would there be between happiness and unhappiness? There would be no unhappiness. And if happiness were the norm, how could we appreciate it? We couldn't. If all we had was constant unending love, we wouldn't know how to feel it. I feel love and pain and happiness and sadness and joy and sorrow and confusion and conflict and elation SO much more strongly because of him. He helped me start to find myself again. And he makes me happy.

As much as you hate him, please love me. Love me enough to see the value in what he's brought to my life. Hate him, if you must, because someone needs to. I seem to be incapable. But know that when I fall, I'll get back up. And I will keep falling.

So far, falling in love is the only injury worth the scrapes.

L

*Lyrics from Keri Hilson's Knock You Down

gotta have faith

Sunshine. Breeze. Fallen leaves. Baby sneezes. Cold beer. Paychecks. New lotion. Perfume. Butterflies. TV. Christmas. Ladybugs. See's lollipops. Movie theaters. Sweatpants. Disneyland. Flying at night. Flowers. Smiling. Ballet flats. Pink. Ice cream. Love. Stars.

Things I love, most of which I cannot experience without leaving the house. Some of which almost require me to be in the house, but I'm willing to suggest that I have a healthy balance here. Point is that I need to leave the house sometimes. Leaving the house can make all the difference. So I'm going to stop giving up on life. There is no thing so bad in my world that I cannot pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again.

In an effort to get to sleep tonight and to make a point quickly, I refer to the words of a great man, Mr. George Michael.

I've gotta think twice before I give my heart away

I know all the games you play because I play them, too

I need someone to hold me but I'll wait for something more

Cos I gotta have faith.

Yes, I've gotta have faith.

(Baaaaaaby!)

L

*Lyrics from George Michael's Faith

melt away

Today I checked my phone to see the last time we talked. A quick exchange, October 30th. The last time before that was equally brief, October 20th. I drafted a few messages in my head. It seems like enough time has passed that I should say hello again. How to phrase it... "miss me yet?" or a simple "hi...". Maybe cross a thin line and jump strait to "so what have you been up to lately?", but I don't want to cross too far. Too far and you may not answer. Too far and you may not see the nonchalance I'm desperately hoping to exude.

thoughts run wild as I sit and rhapsodize

I didn't send you a message. I didn't call. I didn't give you any indication that I'd spent the morning planning out the perfect way to remind you of my existence. I decided, instead, that if you could go without me, then I could certainly go without you. You don't need to text me? I don't need to text you. And so it went. I spent my day like I would any other, working, cleaning, and flushing the memories of you out of my mind every 20 seconds. How you have so much control over my mind after this long I have no idea. And believe me, I've thought about it. You must be controlling my thought processes as well as my sanity. You have a talent NASA would pay millions to bottle and reproduce. If only you'd use that mind control for good.

pretty pictures of what I'd do if you were mine

Tonight, after a particularly fulfilling night at work, one during which I was too busy to even begin to think of you. Honestly, if I hadn't looked at my phone on the drive home I might still be free of you. But instead, I looked. I looked and I had a message from you. Today of all days. Tonight of all nights. Its like you knew.

and suddenly, my defenses start to go

Do I have plans tomorrow night? I'm free after work. Would I like to go to a friend's birthday party with you? Are you all out of other options? I'm flattered. I'd love to go. You just want to dance with me? --swoon-- Count me in. I could meet you... Oh? You'll pick me up? Just call when I'm ready? Just like a real date.

I can't conceal that I'm slowly weakening

All that mental preparation. I convinced myself I wouldn't talk to you until you needed me so much that you talked to me first. And less than 12 hours later, somehow, you got the message. Do you know me that well? Or do you just know what you're doing. Or maybe you have stumbled upon some extremely amazing dumb luck in the love category. Whatever it is, it sure is working on me.

you envelop me and I lose my self control

I was so sure this morning. And just seeing your name tipped me over.

Tonight, though, I love this instability.

L

*lyrics from Mariah Carey's Melt Away

finding the light

I have tripped more in the past 2 months than in the past 2 years. I have experienced more life changes in the past 7 months than in the past 7 years. I have been more unhappy, more confused, more distraught, more frustrated, and more lonely in the past year than in the past 10 years. And in that same year, I have learned more about myself than I've ever thought to know. I've opened a window into my ability to react to change, to adjust to the unforeseen, to adapt to life's funny curveballs. I am still not happy, but I haven't completely given up on trying to be happy again.

Kept on looking for a sign in the middle of the night/ But I couldn't see the light

How to be happy. I have so many books (100 secrets of happy people, don't sweat the small stuff, etc.) that suggest happiness can be just a page away. Just a simple lifestyle change in your future. Just a smile and 10 minutes ahead of you. If happiness, real happiness, were that easy to attain, wouldn't we all be bumbling happy idiots by now? The journey is the important part. The long, bumpy, winding road to happiness what makes the happiness so worth it. But I'm probably just saying that to somehow beautify my own fear that the road in front of me is a very, very, unreasonably long one.

Kept on looking for a way to take me through the night/ I couldn't get it right

This bumpy road has run me into walls, into concrete floors, into shower doors, and into my own personal dark place. I've followed it into weekends of sleep, into days of confusion, and into nights remembered only by photographs. I tried continuing with my original plans, but that didn't feel right. I am a changed person and I need to let myself grow along with these changes. I have tried rethinking my future and I've gotten nowhere. Planning is futile. Maybe the next best thing is to just... Go.

Restless feeling really got a hold/ I started searching for a better way

But still that aching fear that I'll keep falling.

That I'll never get it right.

L

*lyrics from Climax Blues Band's "Couldn't Get It Right"

again and again and again

Oh how it kills me that you still have so much control over my emotions. You still pluck at my heart strings as though you're playing D'yer Maker at a live show in LA. It breaks up my plan of attack everytime you appear because I cannot prepare for what you have ready to throw my way. Oh how you kill me. Slowly, but surely. Every time.

You say that I'd be better off, better off, sleeping by myself and wondering...

You send me for a spin. For days I'm waiting in line, waiting for the attention, waiting for the call, and then suddenly I'm admitted onto a ride I didn't know I was in line for. Suddenly I'm being sent for a curve I wasn't prepared for. Suddenly I'm off the ground, I'm confused, I'm scared, and no one is there to tell me it will be okay. Suddenly you aren't the guy I thought I was waiting for. Oh how it kills me to have to rethink my decisions. I thought I knew right from wrong. Something in your kiss confuses my sense of direction.

...wondering if I'm better off, better off without you, boy.

Knowing all too well that I'm damaged, broken, and unable to handle any more heartache, I insist on sticking around. Of course my heart can't take anymore pain, but my ego craves redemption. I must be good enough. I am. I know I am. I am brilliant and wonderful. I am a catch. I wish you still saw that. I wish you still knew that. I wish you would notice. God how it kills me that you don't care enough to notice.

I'm not gonna stand here feeling lonely but I won't forget you, and I wont think this was just a waste of time.

So, no. I won't move away with you. It was tempting, and I wanted to say yes. I did say yes, although I hadn't told you. I won't. I shouldn't. I can't. My life cannot be an endless game of cat and mouse, even though playing with you was the most fun I've had in years. At the end of every round you steal my heart, and you don't play fair. You keep it, you hide it, and I don't get it back for weeks. You are good for me when you're here, and bad for me the other 7 days of the week. I've never loved someone so much for so little. And you continue to play. You continue to kill me. Oh how I love the way you chase me down just to kill me a little more each time. God how I love it.

but don't just leave me hanging on....

Oh how it kills me.

Again and again and again.

L

*lyrics from Colbie Callait's The Little Things

damaged

A few weeks ago I burnt my leg. I gave myself a really good second degree burn. It was pretty disgusting. At first it felt like fire. I held iced towels against it and took tons of ibuprofen. When the pain died down, it started trying to heal itself. It wasn't pretty, but you could tell that my immune system was sending valuable nutrients to the surface area to help heal the skin. It kept being not pretty. Now it isn't as disgusting to look at. In fact, it's healing really well. But it is still there. I know I shouldn't swim because it's still vulnerable to infection. I still need to put neosporin on it everyday. It is still painfully visible, and it will scar. There will always be a big scar on my leg to remind me of the time I got clumsy.

There's no physical scar to remind me of the times I've been clumsy with my feelings, with my heart. Sometimes I forget that I am not completely healed. There is no visual reminder that I need to take care of my emotional safety. I feel healed, I feel fine, and then I feel the infection setting in. I've done things to aggravate the wound left by J and since I can't see the bleeding, I don't know how to stop it. It tries to heal itself, but I can't protect it. I can't fix it myself.

So I've been flying blind for the past 7 months. I thought I was fine, healed, progressing beautifully, but I'd just been doing a good job at bandaging the injury. And now, for some reason, I'm out of gauze. It's exposed and it's catching everything that flies toward it. It stings again. It hurts, it aches, it keeps me awake, and it forces me to sleep. I can't face the pain so I have no choice but to sleep all day. I'm safer if I stay inside. It can't get worse if I never face the elements. It has to heal eventually, and I have to shelter it until then.

I thought I'd sheltered it enough in June. I thought so in July. I was fine in August. September. But October has been like pouring rubbing alcohol into cut skin. Weeks of constant, burning, unbearable pain from which I can find no escape but sleep. Maybe friends can help? Only a few. Some even exacerbate the pain. Some pour more alcohol into the cut. It's safer to stay inside. The worse the wound gets, the longer the wound stays open, the darker the scar will be. So I'm going to shelter it. Shelter myself. Hide away from the elements, the world, everything out there that makes life worth living. I'm safer inside.

So thats where I'll be.

L

safety vs the spark

Is there possibility for a relationship to last if there is no real honeymoon period? I don't think so, but I'm open to opinions. Here's a scenario to get you thinking:

B is a nice guy. Sweet, good looking, friendly, intelligent, funny, optimistic, and to top it all off, he treats me well. Where's the downside? On paper, this guy is perfect. He is well adjusted and easy to get along with. My friends like him. His friends like me. Downside? The downside is that I can describe him, his personality, his interactions with me and my friends, and all with a completely steady hand, steady heart, and without having to fight back a smile. There are no butterflies. There is no spark. We are already coexisting as if we'd been together for months.

So the question, again: can this last? And even if yes, is it worth it? I don't think so, but I'm too frightened to be sure.

Thinking of C still gives my heart a rush. When I see C in my dreams I wake up with a smile. Even the simplest text from C gives me a shot of adrenaline. A text from B makes me smile, but in the same way a text from a friend does- I am happy to know someone is thinking of me. A text from C puts my mind at ease.

Perhaps I'm setting impossible standards. Perhaps no guy, no matter how perfect, can really ever make my heart race as long as I have such a susceptibility to the virus C's carrying.

So: 1. succumb to safety, give up on the spark and butterflies and the rush of the honeymoon-happy-period? or 2. forget safety- keep tripping, falling, breaking down piece by piece in hopes that the spark appears again to light my way?

I wonder what's behind door #3.

L

evolution of a story

Wouldn't ya know it? The second I decide I love relationships with stories I walk into one with absolutely NO story to speak of, and it is the most promising one I've encountered in months.

I realized that this one had no story at all when someone asked me "so, how'd you two meet?" and I had NO answer. Want to hear how we met? It is a boring boring non-story. Here goes:

July 4: He and his friends meet a friend of mine and her friends (not me) in Tahoe. My friend gets his number.

Some time in August: The friend of mine invites "this guy she met in Tahoe" and his friends to meet us at a bar for this bars weekly Tuesday night fiesta. He is there. I meet him. I remember adding him to my facebook on my phone. That's the extent of it for the night.

Random nights throughout August: He texts me to ask if I'm going out, I say yes, I say where, and I don't remember what he looks like so I am not even thinking about finding him at these locations.

September 4: He and some of his friends attend my birthday celebration. I said hi to him, but didn't know who he was. Like I said, forgot what he looked like in person. It'd been weeks and I'd been a party animal.

September 25: He texts to ask if I'm going to be out downtown, cos he will be. I am playing Capture the Flag with friends, so I tell him no, but maybe after. On my way home from the game playing, I text the boy to see where he and his friends are. I am considering a beer before bed. I meet him and his friends at Streets of London. I join them on a walk to Zebra Club.

September 26 (AM): We walk from Zebra back to my house. We have a couple drinks there, too.

September 26 (PM): I go to his house for a movie-watching night.

September 27: I go to his house for a BBQ with his friends.

September 28: We go to dinner and ice cream, then home to watch movies.

September 29-October 1: We text, we e-mail, we make plans for the weekend.

[If I could read you the future, It'd show October 2-5: Out downtown, Brewfest with friends, Football watching, Non-stop time in each others' company.]

See how the 'story' doesn't actually start? It is a failure story. We have no story to speak of... But we do have chemistry. And any guy who keeps texting me for 2 months with no attention back is a guy worth some attention in my book.

By the way, just to calm some curiosity, the guy from the airport was an epic failure. He was very very full of himself; he was convinced he was God's gift to me and all women (and he did let me know about ALL THE WOMEN who wanted to be in my position...). He was rude to the waitress and gave off a creepy vibe. In addition, at one point he asked me if I'd rather have a Chanel or Prada bag, given the choice... and then he made a funny face when I answered Chanel. Label snob? Italian label snob? With a penis? Perhaps not. Airport boy was given the go ahead for departure.

And wouldn't ya know it, 6 hours later I decided to answer B's text and meet him for a beer on my way home.

Maybe the story is still spinning.

Spin, little story, spin away. :)

L

nothing compares

I am probably the most gullible person on the planet. And the biggest problem with that is my indifference. Sadly, I've embraced my naivete and accepted that even though I'm being spoon-fed lies, I like them and I don't want to stop hearing them.

I love hearing his lies. Those lies keep me smiling. His lies make me happy. Nothing compares.

i could put my arms around every boy i see/ but they'd only remind me of you

And even when someone else finds a way to make me happy, somehow his lies sneak back into view. I can be distracted by the truth, but still I'd want hear his lies. I willingly walk away from something honest and possible and promising to run toward those beautiful, compromising lies. He has such a way with me. He has such a way with everyone. So then, it can't be entirely my fault that I'm so addicted.

But I should know better than to fall in love with the same lies that I've seen others fall for. I should know better. But nothing compares.

since you've been gone i can do whatever i want/ but nothing can take away these blues

Picking lies over the truth. Giving in to "ignorance is bliss". Convincing myself that this messed up situation is actually a good one, could actually work out in my best interest. At one point seeing all that in writing would have turned me around, could have changed the path I'm set on... but I'm past that point... I'm so deep in this that I have no hope of turning around.

And I have no desire to.

Just the thought of those lies stirs up flutters in my stomach, speeds my heartbeat, pulls an amazing real smile across my face. Ah. Nothing compares.

because nothing compares- nothing compares to you.

L

*lyrics from Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares to You"

our story

Everybody has a story. When two stories collide, a couple has a story.

In the beginning- and essentially until the end is imminent- the story of the beginning is the thrilling one. In the end, it becomes the story of the end. So, one could easily conclude, that in the ultimate relationship, the end-all-be-all, the one true love, that beginning story needs to last a lifetime.

My best friends' parents both have stories. M's parents were high school sweethearts. R's parents were free-minded hippy types who got married in jeans and t-shirts. Stories that last. My parents' story, although maybe not as idyllic and more, well, dorky, is still lasting. What are the chances that either person was thinking about the story when these lifetime stories began? I'm guessing they weren't. And that will be my goal for the week. Stop STop STOp STOP thinking about the story.

J and I had a wonderful story, years in the making. He saw me on my first day of school and told his younger sister that she should make friends with me so he could meet me. I didn't meet her until after J and I got together. I didn't meet J for years after that. I had been a dream-girl to him. And that dream came true for both of us. Beautiful story. But, the story I tell now is about stages of life and PhD programs and cross country moves. The beginning story gets no play, and its such a good one. Pity.

C and I had a story. We met because I raised my hand and asked if he'd like to buy me a drink. I was trying to prove a point to a friend, but C made me work for that point. Either way, I made my point, I got my drink. 6 months later, we had our first date. That's another story, but the original story, how our stories first collided, that's the beginning. That's the beginning story. I don't get to tell that story anymore. Now I only get to tell a story about age differences and lifestyles.

P and I had a story. The story was better than the relationship, in the end. First date at the beach, walking on the pier, first kiss at the top of a rollercoaster. Magnificent story. The kind that gets written in cheesy teenage love novels. The kind that doesn't actually happen. But it did. And now... well, you know the story... I don't get to tell the beginning story anymore. I get to tell the inconclusive end story. Some combination of 'not sure', 'stopped calling', and 'just kind of ended'.

Last night at the airport someone walked up to me and said "so, why the Dodgers?", in reference to the royal blue Dodgers sweatshirt I had on. I was sitting on a wall, looking into the airport bar to see the Monday night football game. He was on the ground, looking up, asking me about the intersection of two of my favorite topics: baseball and me. We chatted, I learned that he played baseball in college, has friends playing in the major leagues now. He was in town with his mom, and waiting for his flight home. We were headed home on the same flight. He handed me a business card full of contact information and went back to sitting with his mom. I boarded the plane first, put on my headphones, started reading my book. When he and his mom boarded she asked him if he wanted to sit next to me, and he rolled his eyes and told her to keep going. I realized about 20 minutes into the flight that his mom decided to sit directly behind me.

I e-mailed him this morning.

Meeting in an airport seems logical. There are at least 40 other people going the same place you are. But how often does it happen? (And how often does it happen while wearing sweatpants, hair a mess, no make up on?) This could be the chronicle of a beginning. This could be the beginning of another end.

Eh, who cares. :)

Stories give me such a thrill.

L

answers

Why do I cancel dates before they happen?

Why do I avoid answering phone calls?

Why do I live in a fantasy land where the dream is all I need?

Why do I need to feel attractive all the time?

Why do I keep getting numbers and not using them?

Why do I feel the need to make appearances?

Why do I avoid step 2?

Because I'm not the only one who can do the leaving. And as long as I leave first, I'm not getting hurt. Because when someone else gets to decide when it's time to leave I just end up with more questions.

More questions and no answers.

L

practically perfect

Found my knight in shining armor.

He's not what I expected him to be. I pictured a guy who treats me like a princess. One who shows up to both of my (completely self-indulgent) birthday parties with a new bouquet of flowers each night. I expected him to be career minded, but with a spontaneous side willing to play hooky to run to the aquarium with me for the day. I expected him to have flaws, but flaws that I find more charming every day. When I picture us together I am gorgeous without makeup, even when I'm sick I glow because he is bringing me soup. This is the man I always pictured riding in on a white horse to sweep me away from the drudgery of life.

But thats not the guy who showed up at 2am Sunday morning, opened the door as if he knew he needed to be here, picked me up off the couch, carried me to bed, and tucked me in. The guy who completed the fairy tale ending to my birthday isn't at all who I expected my knight to be, but he saves me every time.

He saves me from passing out on the couch. He saves me from drinking too much and not having a ride home. He saves me from making bad choices out of loneliness. He has saved me countless times from loneliness itself. He has ruined me for everyone else.

I am spoiled now in the most practical way.

I expect nothing, but what I get is nothing short of the fairy tale.

L

my first addiction

I've never been one to fall into addictive slumps. I smoked cigarettes for a while, but stopped one day because someone told me to. No cravings. No relapse. I drank heavily for a few months, and stopped one day because I needed to wake up early the next day. No cravings. No problems. I've never had an episode with drugs. I've never been addicted to anything even so much as chap stick.

I remember reading somewhere that you know you have an addiction, not just a bad habit/hobby, when it begins to interfere with your everyday life. You change plans to accommodate it. You let it interfere with sleep, getting work done, and it inevitably effects your personal relationships.

I've never been one to fall into addictive slumps, but lately I've been letting something work its way into my life in a very intrusive way. I wake up in the middle of the night and stay up for hours to calm cravings. I put off work. I reschedule appointments to accommodate the availability of it. I've been pretty good about keeping it to only affecting me, but I sincerely believe that I've hit the point where it has begun affecting my relationships. It definitely has changed the way I think, the way I feel, the way my mind works, and the way I go about my day.

But I can't say no.

The high is amazing. How can I even begin to explain it? Can I really describe being that close to the sublime? I can see nirvana, I can feel it, I can touch it. The world around me falls away. Important things are still important, but I feel at peace with pressing deadlines. Everything will be fine in the end, because I am floating through heaven and no bad thoughts could possibly interfere here. Nothing can get in the way of this.

Nothing except time. The high does wear off. Either with a crash or slowly throughout the day. The high goes away. And what then? I want more. I compromise my principles to try and find it. I am still me, but I am me on a bender. The difference is probably unnoticeable from the outside, I am not driven to shaking or hiding out or chewing huge pieces of bubblegum constantly, but on the inside I can feel it. Yearning. Wanting. Craving. Oh! It is constantly at the back of my mind!

But don't worry. I can go without. I can go days, weeks, without. But I can't say no, and every so often, without fail, the offer reappears...

I can't help it. He is just that good.

L

under the boardwalk

I think I may be broken, and I'm not sure Home Depot has the tools to fix me.

I cancelled both of my dates last week. I just did not want to go, so I called and cancelled. Don't worry, neither of them was going to be 'the one'.

On Saturday I kept a date. I kept it for a couple reasons: 1. it was a group outing, 2. the destination was Santa Cruz, and I cannot pass on the beach, 3. he asked less than 24 hours before the time of departure, so I didn't have any time to cancel even if I'd wanted to. This date was different though. I didn't want to cancel. I had an amazing time. We made it through the 2 hour drive without any awkward pauses. I made friends with the other couple. We went to the Boardwalk, rode a ride or two, had some fattening food, and headed down to the beach. We played in the water, laid in the sand, smiled and laughed and let the waves knock us down. After dinner we watched the sun set from the pier. We rode roller coasters after dark and enjoyed the bright lights of the Boardwalk rides.

And at the top of the Giant Dipper, right before the big drop on this historic coaster, we had our first kiss. What a story to tell the kids. :)

Again I find myself in this messy tangle of 'how does this work?'. When do I know if things are exclusive? When is it safe to ask about his past girlfriends/summer hookups without seeming too pushy? What does he tell his friends? (Does he tell his friends? Oh no..) Do I really want this to work?

And if I do, then why did my heart skip a beat tonight when C texted me? I think I like this new guy (P), and I think he likes me, and we had an amazing first date, a movie couldn't have arranged it better.... but I still got butterflies when C texted me tonight. Shouldn't those be gone? Replaced?

A fortune cookie sounds really excellent right now. Or a hammer.

L

a discovery channel special

The elusive bootycall.

A nocturnal creature, most often found in heavily populated areas such as cities or college towns. It can be somewhat frightened of light, generally responding well to dim lighting or a subtle glow, such as that from a TV. Its appearances out of its burrows are generally short, not lasting longer than a few hours a night, and sometimes burrowing in hiding for weeks at a time. These creatures usually respond well to alcohol and other intoxicants. When dealing with bootycalls it is important not to make your presence too known to the creature. Do not overwhelm it as it can become frightened and feed trapped, leading it to run, find a new hideout, and never be seen again.

Beware, bootycall hunters. It is a dangerous path you walk. Oh, and I forgot to mention, some bite.

Enjoy the chase.

L

heads up

I am about to jump out of the plane again. Date tonight, dinner, at 7:30. Date Friday night, comedy show. Different guys. Been putting them both off for weeks.

Updates will appear. I hope they're good ones.

Fingers crossed!

L

not yet

It has been MONTHS. Multiple weeks. Hundreds of days. I've talked to so many guys. I've flirted, I've danced, I've gained access to dozens of clubs without paying and I've gotten enough numbers to fill a little black book. 

But. 

Of course there is a but. 

If there weren't a but, there wouldn't be a post.  

Tonight I took a leap. 

Met a guy. He bought me drinks. He bought my friends drinks. We played dice games together. He introduced me to his friends. He was sweet and he didn't lay a hand on me. Perfect. 

I decided to go to another bar. He came with me. He met my friends and got along with them well.  He didn't argue about having to pay a cover charge. He bought my drinks. He entertained himself while I talked to other people. He was a perfect gentleman. 

He paid for my cab ride home. Then he came up with me. And that is where the "but" comes into play. 

I am still not sure what happened. He did nothing wrong! He was a perfect sweetheart all night, a perfect gentleman, but I began to suffocate. I couldn't breathe. Shallow breaths were all I could muster up. I played it cool, we watched TV. I avoided his yawns and suggestions that he was tired. (Tired? Whatever. Not sleeping here. If you're tired you can go home.) I was overwhelmed. I felt cornered. So I did the first thing I thought to do... I called C. 

He isn't home, he isn't at the pub. He is out. He is busy. He isn't naming a location so I assume he is with a girl. Still, he talks me through 25 minutes of "What THE HELL am I going to do" until his phone dies. Dream guy? Still no. He didn't come over, and he didn't rescue me. He did bring me to my senses: about him and about my limits. 

I am not ready to be bringing guys home. A kiss on the cheek? I can handle that. Maybe even a quick real kiss. Beyond that? I cannot deal. At the first glimmer of a possibility of another guy I ran crying to C. Running to be saved by a guy who has only helped dig me into this hole? Proof that I should be locked up after midnight on weekends. 

Now that it is the end of the night, the cute guy has been taken home, my crisis has been averted, it is much easier for me to say that I can handle life on my own. Scrolling back in my text messages for the night shows signs of a weak, scared, sensitive, frightened girl who isn't ready to be alone-- or with someone, for that matter. 

C didn't save me tonight. He did help me through it, he did keep me company via telephone wires while I figured out my own escape plan, but he didn't come to my rescue like a true hero would. Truth is that I rescued myself. I got frustrated, made an excuse, and drove the gentleman home. I did it myself. I found my own way out of the maze. 

I only wish it made me happier. 

L 

making me feel

Lesson learned, thanks to an episode of Dexter:

"It's not him that you miss... it's the way he made you feel about yourself...."

I can't help that he makes me feel wanted. I feel vital. I feel strong and powerful and sensual and gorgeous. When he's there I feel important, I feel on top of the world. I can't help that he makes me feel unstoppable.

it's not complicated, we're just syncopated, we can read each others' minds.

I am all of these things without him, but when he is with me, when I am with him, I am all of this and more. I am not only sure of myself but I am certain. I am not only strong but I am the epitome of strength. I am not only smart but I am brilliant. I become a brighter me. I glow. I shine. I light from the inside. He makes me feel just purely amazing. I am amazing. And I am so aware of it when he is around me.

this is way beyond the physical. tonight my senses don't make sense at all.

The damage he's done disappears when he's around. I give him trouble for it, but then I give it up. He doesn't charm me. I don't forget what he's done, I just stop caring. I just don't care. The glow- I can feel it fighting to come out. I can tell I'm starting to light up. I know I'm feeling that feeling that I get when he's here. And why put it off? Why punish myself? Why make myself miss out on this amazing high just because he can't behave? I shouldn't. It would be so terrible to deprive myself of this.

our imaginations taking us to places we ain't never been before.

I give in. I give in repeatedly. But I understand the consequences. The glow doesn't last forever. The smile fades. I come down from the surreal high he puts me on. The memory, though, that sticks. That sticks around to taunt me, tease me, put me back on mini-highs whenever I think of him.

All I have to do is smell the pillow.

(Don't you dare tell me to wash the sheets.)

don't even need to touch me... baby... just...

L

*lyrics from Britney Spears' Breathe on Me

still waiting

This will be short.

I still miss him. It has been a week since he's been here, only 4 days since I've been with him, but I am suffering from delusions. I hear people in the hallway and think it could be him. I hear cars on the street and convince myself they are his.

What has he done to deserve this kind of attention? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That's why this will be short.

Can't smell him on the pillow anymore. Suppose it is time to move on.

If only...

L

craving

I can't even find lyrics to fit what I am feeling tonight.

I am overwhelmed.

I am not alone. I have choices. There isn't just one guy at my disposal tonight, there are a few. And who do I come home with? A girl. My friend who was too drunk to handle the remainder of the night. She is who I will share my bed with. Actually, I'm happy it's her.

But still, while I recount the night, count the drinks, count the guys, my mind gets stuck on him. HIM. The one guy I cannot have is the one guy, of course, who I cannot stop my mind from obsessing over. Why doesn't he want me. Why doesn't he call me. Why doesn't he seem to need me as badly as I crave him. I can't fight it. I can't fight myself.

What a horrible mess I'm in.

Fortunately, this mess is all in my mind. As soon as I learn to ignore it, it'll disappear.

...

So...

How long till I learn to ignore it...

L

two nights

About to fall asleep, I reach for the other pillow, because I know he was the last person to sleep on it. It doesn't smell like cologne or his soap or sweat or sex, it just smells like him, even though he showered in my shower, with my soap, my towels, moments before hitting this pillow last night. It smells like him. I hope the smell never wears out. I am almost afraid to sleep on it, I don't want to ruin it with whatever smell I might rub off. So instead I take a deep breath, blink hard, and hope to drift to sleep without too much trouble.

Every time I hear a sound I wake up. I hope the sound is coming from the hallway. What single girl living alone hopes for people in the hallways in the middle of the night? One with a low, deep, heartache. That'd be me. The sounds, though, never reach my door. The telltale clink of the key in the lock never comes. Another deep breath, a blink, force a smile, and I try to drift back to sleep.

When he came in last night he put away my clean dishes before he even came into the bedroom. I was mostly asleep, but I knew he was doing it because of the sound of silverware and drawers. When he came into the bedroom he took my computer off the bed, turned off the movie I'd fallen asleep to, set the alarm on my phone, and put everything on my bedside table. I remember a kiss on the forehead before he went to take a shower. I fell asleep again when he disappeared into my bathroom and the water started running.

Tonight he said he'd see me tomorrow. Why not tonight? He takes full responsibility for being rude in not seeing me tonight even though this is our usual night. Come by after he closes the bar? He says maybe. We've all known what maybe means since we were 7. 'Maybe' is a nice way of saying 'no' an hour later. I should know a tease like 'maybe' when I hear it. But I'm a dreamer.

He sneaks into bed beside me. Puts a hand on my hip and a kiss on my cheek. He brushes the hair out of my eyes and lays his head on the pillow. (Yep, that pillow.) I can't help but shiver a bit and scoot closer to him. Suddenly I'm not nearly as tired as I'd been an hour ago. I could stay awake for days if he'd keep holding me like this.

I knew he wouldn't be here, on the inside. I can face bad news in most situations, and, if I do say so myself, I usually face it with amazing grace. When it comes to heartache I am at a loss. I would rather tease myself to sleep than face the horribly obvious reality that he won't be here tonight. He isn't with anyone else, that isn't the problem, he just isn't with me. In a way that might be worse. It really is worse. It is worse.

He's not here, and tonight he won't be. Tonight is nothing like last night, but really it is only different by one serendipitous moment: the moment at which he turned left instead of right. He chose to go toward me and away from home, toward company and away from loneliness, toward inevitable heartache and away from total independence. But tonight he went right. He went home. No call, no message. Leaving me here to smell the pillow.

Slowly waking up with my back to him, I take a minute to turn over. His eyes are closed, but he's not asleep. If he were asleep he couldn't have kissed me. "Is that my goodnight kiss?" "No, I'll let you take care of that one." So the next kiss is my job. If I could freeze this moment I would. One minute I can be so close to sublime, and the next I'm light years behind again. But right now that barely matters. This is the first minute. We fall asleep facing each other, inches apart, breathing in unison. He notices me drifting off. He gives me the goodnight kiss. I fall asleep, with him and a smile.

I should know better. Once in a while is not worth the rest of the time. I am playing with hearts while waiting for him to stop playing with mine. But I love the game. Even when I lose, I still know I played with my all. I know I'm in the running for the prize, at least the wild card. I know my stats are improving, I know I'm practicing every time. I love love. I love romance. I love the beginning. I love infatuation. I love these silly butterflies swirling in my stomach every night, keeping me awake and completely rearranging my schedule. The little sting I get when I realize the sounds in the hallway aren't from him is completely worth it. Just a prick. A little pressure. Then it's gone. Takes a tiny bit of the virus to build an immunity.

Morning. He wakes me with a kiss as he scrambles to turn off my alarm. I never hear my alarm. He knows. He turns it off and tells me to get up. I get up, get ready, kiss him goodbye, head to work. Hours later I get home to find my bed made, and my stuffed animals hugging in front of the pillows. He thought of it all. My stuffed animals weren't even on the bed last night, they were in my closet. If he is trying to get me to stop falling, this is not the way to do it.

Tonight, when I reach for the other pillow, I remember last night. It plays out like a chapter of a story, of a great romance novel. But what great novel happens one night at a time? No great romance ends with the heroine alone 6 nights a week waiting for company. No great heroine admits to sleeping on the other pillow to feel safe, wanted, less alone. Am I not the heroine of my own story? Maybe I'm in the wrong section. This isn't popular fiction. This is autobiography.

Reality looks so different in Times New Roman.

L

insatiable

like a flashback

like i'm 18 again

like i can't get enough

and i'm fine with that.

Is it bad? I spend all night texting a few admirers. I come home hoping only one of them will meet me there. He has a key, he should show up as soon as I fall asleep. He usually does. Will he?

I'm craving for you, and just like a fool, there's no way I can stop my desire...

And do I want him to? This is the same guy who decided to play games with me. I'm wise to his games now; he has no idea that I used to play harder than he does. I was the MVP of playing with hearts. Does that make mine protected? I pretend it does. :) Fake it until you feel it.

I'm craving for you, and you know it, too, there's no one that can top your smile...

I'm ready. Bring it on. I just want to feel those butterflies again. Pain? Whatever. Heartbreak? Show me. I am prepared for anything. I just want to feel the butterflies. The feeling is amazing. I almost understand the high from heroin. It is addicting. His touch. His kiss. The sound of the key in the door when I know he is the only person with a key. I can't slow my heart. I can't control it. For split seconds I feel complete.

For seconds.

Love struck.

But it's not love.

It's infatuation.

L

*lyrics from V Factory's Love Struck

mine all mine

I am pulling on my own heart strings because the male population has let me down. Instead of letting them tease and toy with my emotions, romance me, seduce me, I have had to resort to creating my own amorous diversions. Mindless flirtations with ex-boyfriends. Aimless dancing in clubs only to catch glances and free drinks. Late night text messages just to stir up drama and excitement in my otherwise dull and loveless life. 

And wouldn't you know, I still managed to get my heart strings all tangled up in a mess. 

It's a shame what juggling so many flirtations can do to a girl. 

Such a shame. 

L 

wanting

There are guys who want me, and that's nice to know. Problem is I feel the need to be honest with them. I have been telling them the truth, once I learn their intentions, which is usually that I don't feel those all-important butterflies with them; I don't want them the way they want me.

How do I know what wanting is anymore, after so long with the same person? I know because at the moment I want someone. Someone out there is giving me those amazing butterflies when we are together, and I feel the pangs of lonliness when we are apart. I know what wanting feels like, and the ones who want me are not the ones I want.

Unfortunately, the one I want does not want me.

What a sad thing to realize. I'm not sure which is better: being told that you aren't wanted or finding out on your own through forgotten messages and ignored calls.

Either way, though, I suppose knowing the truth is better than
pretending otherwise.

Knowing what I want, though, would be best.

L

best of both worlds

Torn.

Well, slightly ripped.

Actually, perfectly intact, but I'd like to think I'm suffering in some way for this.

In the words of UVR:

"Who wants the same old thing every night? Yes, I need change in my life."

Cryptic still. I'll break this down...

I like attention. I like to be wanted, to know I'm being watched, to know someone is thinking about me and wanting to be near me. (Who doesn't?) And I've got this friend who has always fulfilled that requirement. He's that nice guy. I'm upset? He answers the call. I need to go out? He's taking me out. I need sushi at 2 am? He finds it. He's not a push-over, not by any means, he doesn't wait for me to call, he isn't waiting for me in any way, but when I need him, he's there. We'll call him... D.

Now, D and I, we've had our moments. He's a sweet guy, and I'm a sweet girl :), and so there's been some friction. How do I phrase this... I'm only attracted to him in certain ways and at certain times. That's all I will say.

Here's the kicker.

C, although he pulled the oldest line in the book (I got scared...), still has the power to attract me in multiple ways. I am attracted to him in most ways and at most times. He's got a charisma of which he is completely aware, and that, my friends, is the problem.

I'm stuck between the nice guy and the kinda-bad guy. Easy answer? Nice guy. Of course. But the attraction isn't all there and I'm not going to dive into that without thinking twice. Thats a set up for failure. Kind-bad guy? Maybe he'll change... no.. no.. they never do.

But, ya know, I'm not terribly distraught. If my biggest problem today is deciding which of these two awesome guys I'll be getting my drinks from tonight, then today is probably gonna be a beautiful day.

Stuck between a marshmallow and a smooshy place. :)

Like bouncing between clouds.

L

*Lyrics from UVR's Got 2 Girlfriends

work is never over

work it harder 

mind control. not someone else's, control your own. convince yourself you don't need this. you deserve better. you can kick this. a silly addiction, infatuation even, and its irrelevant to the rest of your life. 

mind control. convince yourself. if you know it, you know it. 

but you need to know it. own it. be it. live it. know it. 

makes us better 

that'll put it behind you. you don't need to be treated this way, you deserve to be appreciated, loved, for you. not for favors. not for entertainment. you deserve to be loved for you. and since you know it, be it. live it. don't loosen your standards for the first pretty face with a talent for charming your pants off. fight it. you're better than that. you're better than you think you are. 

don't forget that. know it.  

do it faster 

the sooner you know, the sooner you run. cut and run and be happy. don't depend on someone else to make you smile, smile because you don't need someone else. trust your gut, believe your intuition. if your heart says go, but your mind says stop, believe yourself and escape the wreckage. players are gonna play. cheaters are gonna cheat. the first time is never the first time, and its never the last. know what you know and believe in yourself. and don't be afraid to rush out of it. fools rush in. you rush out. and you'll like it. 

makes us stronger 

trust the process. trust that by the end of this, you'll be all you need to be for next time. you will know better, you will be smarter, you will have the power to break the cycle. if they're playing, you're winning. if they're lying, you're seeing. the ball is in your court because you keep it there. the only way to play it safe is to play nothing but offense and dominate that game. back down, get beat. but you won't back down. you don't need to. you don't need time to breathe, you don't need a break, you don't need to nap or reenergize or take a time out. you have stamina. you can do this until it's done. and you will. and you'll like it. 

i know i gotta be right now 

cos i can't get much wronger

L

*lyrics from Daft Punk's Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger and Kanye West's Stronger

fences

I would love to cave in. I'd like to call him, show up at his house, appear out of no where and let him swoon, apologize, and beg for forgiveness. Afterwards I'd tell him he needed to work for my trust, and he'd promise to do nothing but that for as long as it took.

But that wouldn't happen. And even if it did, I would be stupid to believe it.

you're always on display for everyone to watch and learn from

I have learned my share of lessons. I know the answer when a girl is hurt by a guy. I know how to tell her to pick herself up off the ground, brush it off, and move on without looking back. I do it on a weekly basis. And so now, now that I'm thrown back into this fire, I have to take my own advice. I have to be just as strong as I tell them to be. I have to be the good example.

don't look up just let them think there's no place else you'd rather be

I'm playing the hard ass. He texts, I wait. Sure my heart skips, I hope more than anything that he'll be saying he can't live without me, but that's irrelevant. I not only have to live out my own advice but I have to make it look like it is the best decision I have ever made. Unfortunately, at the moment it feels like ice picks stabbing into my shoulders. I want to break down, run back, embrace the 'ignorance is bliss' philosophy that I am usually so against. No. Can't. I must look like the strongest person in any room. I have to be the strongest person in any room. I am the strongest person in any room.

it's obvious that you're just living proof that the camera's lying

At least all those acting classes weren't a complete waste.

L

*lyrics from Paramore's Fences

sometimes

sometimes

i think i'm invincible

i think i can walk through walls

i think i can have it all

and then sometimes

i get knocked down a step

i get pushed back to reality

i get woken up to my life again

and i tease myself into thinking

i can have it all

i can do it all

and i let myself believe

that this is it

and one more time

it falls apart

and one more time

i let my heart

get broken

broken

broken

and one more time

it falls apart

and one more time

i play the part

of that girl

who lets her heart

get broken

broken

broken apart.

still

sometimes

i think i'm strong enough

i think i'm built so tough

i think that i can handle anything

and then sometimes

i notice i'm falling down

i notice i'm starting to turn around

i notice i'm not as strong as i thought i was

and i tease myself into thinking

that i dont want this

that i dont need you

that i am bigger

and better

and stronger

and harder

but i can't keep lying to me.

so one more time

it falls apart

and one more time

i let my heart

get broken

broken

broken

and one more time

it falls apart

and one more time

i play the part

of that girl

who lets her heart

get broken

broken

broken apart.

if only i knew better. i could protect myself. if only i could play the game, play like someone else.

if only i could realize that i'm not the girl i was. i'm not as strong, i'm not as smart, i'm phased by love.

but sometimes

i think i'm invincible

and sometimes

i think i can have it all

until i

realize

that i'm me

and i get my heart broken.

L

and so it goes

I am not that girl.

I do not stand by and watch my heart get shredded.

I do not step aside to let someone get in my way.

I do not accept petty apologies.

I do not take second.

But you are that guy.

You let girls think they have a chance because you like the attention.

You lead people on so that you never have to go to bed alone.

You think 'I don't know' is a valid excuse.

You are heartless.

And I won't be that girl.

Let her think she has a chance.

Let her think she's the only one.

Let her answer your calls.

Let her wait all night to hear from you.

I refuse to be that girl.

I will stay here and cry until it's out of my system.

I will ignore your calls until they stop coming.

I will drink by myself until I'm done crying.

I will be here until it's over.

Because you are that guy.

And I am obviously not the girl you are looking for.

I am so much better than that.

Thanks for reminding me.

L

him

At some point there must be a happy ending.

Or at least a happy intermission.

Is it perfect? Should it be? Does it matter?

I want to be near him. I want him to be near me. I want to know he wants me, too.

And is that enough?

Two weeks, three days.

So far, so good, and that is all I am going to say.

But I'm happy. :)

L

time for a change

brown hair. blue eyes. older. career oriented.

ex. 

I obviously have a type. The type is not working for me. My dad, smart man that he is, suggests that I date people with my hair color. Apparently matching hair is the key to relational success. Its a nice idea? But it's been a while since I've met a blonde guy without the word 'Player' written across his head or the phrase "'scuse me bro" coming out of his mouth. I'll pass.  

How about eyes? I don't generally notice eye color right off the bat, but maybe I'm drawn to blue eyes because daddy has blue eyes. Don't girls subconsciously attract to guys who remind them of their dads? My subconscious likes blue eyes. I can change that. The next one won't have blue eyes. 

They don't get much younger than me without coming with a statutory rape warning. And I've known since 4th grade that guys mature 4 years slower than girls mentally. (Is that a true statistic? Or at some point does it even out? Regardless.) Thats why I date UP. I don't think I need to change that one. If he is older, I'll always be younger. I just like the prospects. 

I don't necessarily want to be featured on the next "Real Housewives of _____" series, but I wouldn't mind being taken care of. Sounds like a pretty posh arrangement to me. How does a girl get herself taken care of? Marry a guy with a serious job. A serious job with serious money and a serious future. Doesn't that mean that now, in his 20s, he'd need to be pretty career oriented? I vote yes. But, this one has a crossroads. I wouldn't ever be happy as just a housewife. I need a job. I need a career. I need to do something I love doing. So.. am I the one doing the care-taking? Alright. I can get rid of career oriented, but the kid better still have a job. I am not going to be Britney to anyone's Kevin. 

Brown hair. Brown eyes. Older. Life oriented. 

Enough of a shift? 

Brown hair. Brown eyes. Younger. Life oriented. 

Hope so. Fingers crossed. 

L 

fearless

I don't know how it gets better than this

The first night was full of harmless flirtation. Subtle at points, but sometimes terribly obvious. We parted at day break, leaving the dark night to go into a gorgeous sunny day. Still, though, separate.

You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless

The suspense built for two days while we went on with our lives in separate places. Two long days. Really, days the regular length, but oh how they stretched out while waiting for replies to text messages and thinking up clever but cute responses once the phone decided to chime.

And you know I want to ask you to dance right there, in the middle of the parking lot

It seems to take forever, but I finally see him again. We meet downtown; I walk in and see him waiting for me. I catch his eye and I swear his eyes smile. We start sitting at least a foot apart. Minutes pass. Move closer. 6 inches. 4. I don't have to try to seem magnetically attracted to him this time, I just am. I don't have to wonder if he noticed my hand brush by his, he notices. Suddenly it's so simple. It happens all by itself. Gravity really does want us to be closer.

Absent mindedly making me want you

We leave, each driving ourselves, and meet somewhere else where his friends are waiting. I try my best to be surreptitious, no one needs to know I am here with him. That's for me to know. That's for me to smile about. Some subtle hand holding. Some half hugs. Some smiling glances. Someone else tries to make a move on me, and immediately I'm whisked out the door. No questions asked. No words to speak, I know he wants me to himself. Heart racing.

So baby drive slow, until we run out of road

He gives me a ride home. Smiling. Holding hands. I feel like a giddy teenager on a first date. All hope, no fear. No past, no present, no fear of the future. Everything has fallen into place and I wasn't afraid for a minute. I'm floating through the night, and so quickly it's over and I'm back to solid ground. Walking to the door, I feel like it's all over too soon. Why can't it last till day break again?

Wait.. why can't it?

And it does.

You stood there with me in the doorway

My hands shake

I'm not usually this way but

You pull me in and I'm a little more brave

It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something

It's fearless

Fearless.

L

*lyrics from Taylor Swift's Fearless

sleep smiling

One of the steps to recovery is trying again.

I was convinced I wouldn't try again. I'd avoid whatever came my way, change the station whenever a love song played, and generally devote my nights to reruns of Frasier and 30 Rock. (Okay, so my nights will probably always be devoted to reruns of some sort. TV is my first love. I cannot move on from that one.)

BUT! In the words of Taylor Swift:

"Hey Stephen,

boy, you might have me believin'

I don't always have to be alone."

Mm, I can't help myself.

I've been listening to 'Hey Stephen' all night, texting digital sweet nothings back and forth with my own Stephen, understanding more and more why Taylor wrote this song.

"Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so...

Can't help it if there's no one else.

I can't help myself."

I know I've felt all of this before, but it has been so long, and I was so convinced it'd be longer. So, even if this is destined to be short lived or tainted with unpleasant residual emotion, this smile has been plastered across my face all day. And now I'm going to sleep, and the smile... doesn't look like its going anywhere.

Sleep smiling. It sure has been a while. :)

L

the butterflies

The first steps are cautious.

I wonder, 'does he want me to text?' or 'is he just saying it to be nice?'. I flirt, shamelessly, to see how he reacts. Nothing. Did he notice? Should I be more bold? My hand grazes his. It wasn't a mistake. Does he think it was? If I do it again, is that too obvious? I want it to seem like I'm being magnetically attracted to him, like gravity is pulling us together, not like I'm calculating my every move to be closer to him.

But I am. Oh but I am!

Hours upon hours of this game of hit and miss, hit and hope. And hope. And hope.

And before I know it, the night is morning. The sun is coming up and we are right where we started, making subtle friendly gestures and holding eye contact longer than necessary. I am not sure where I stand, where he sees me, if he sees me.

Morning breaks, and I've all but given up.

I wonder, 'is he happy i left?' or 'is he thinking about me? what is he thinking?'. I drive away, and my phone chimes. My heart skips. My hands tense. My stomach twists.

Caution be damned.

Text message, from him: "I'm thinking I should have kissed you goodbye".

"You're probably right"

"Dammit"

Oh those beautiful butterflies.

L

the other side

Instead of romanticizing the lives of other people, try to think about how they might feel. The teenager walking down the street in the black t-shirt with the angry look on his face may actually be faking that scowl to seem more self-assured than he is in this questionable neighborhood. The woman with the Chanel earrings and Louis Vuitton bag chatting on her cell phone at Starbucks may not be the stuck up city girl her looks suggest, perhaps she is visiting her sister and borrowing her accessories.

I am not a big people watcher, but I think the general ideas behind it might be useful in multiple situations. For example, to help dig up a smile when a frown is looming and imminent.

The frown: Instead of seeing someone who looks remarkably like J at the mall today with a blonde woman, I imagined J shopping with ‘her’, even though he would never shop with me. Instead of recognizing that the person there was not J, my mind began to spin and tumble, convincing me that J would shop with her, that he would even enjoy shopping with her.

Walking to the car, I noticed my hands were shaking visibly. And why? Because there are brown haired men in the mall? Irrelevant. My mind’s treacherous story had already spun itself a web all through my imagination. 

As I got into the car I said out-loud to myself, for no reason I can account for, “what is on the other side”. I can only assume that I meant the other side of this river of heartbreak. The drive home convinced me otherwise.

The smile: Instead of seeing someone who looks remarkably like J at the mall today with a blonde woman, I imagine J shopping with ‘her’. Instead of being upset that J would shop with her when he would never shop with me, I wonder if J likes shopping with her, or if his being there is only a quick trip because she offered to buy him a new tie. Instead of being heartbroken and crying on my way to the car, I imagine the webs his mind would spin if he had seen someone who looked remarkably like me in an unusual place.

He is just as shaken as me.    

That's the other side, and the view from here is so refreshing.

L

past perfect

Ever seen the ABC show 'Samantha Who?' ? The main character, Samantha, was hit by a car and has had amnesia for about 2 seasons now. She's trying to live an honorable life and be a friendly wonderful person, but every so often (about once an episode, coincidentally...) she gets a flashback from before the accident triggered by a similar situation to which she promises to react differently. In these flashbacks she is an evil bitch, just a horrible backstabbing egomaniac. That's all the background you'll need to catch up with tonight's thought process. 

Lately, I am Samantha. I feel as though I have forgotten everything before 2005! I remember meeting J up until now, but when it comes to remembering dates before J, my lifestyle before J, how I operated around men before J, I am a blank slate. 

Until the flashback.

This morning I was hit with a bit of insight into the pre-2005 L. It hit me like a rock this morning because last night I was her. And to be honest, for the last 2 months, I've been her. And she... she was not always the nicest person. 

Shall I decompress that cryptic file? 

Since I don't remember how my relationships and flings functioned pre-2005, I wasn't entirely sure how to flirt or date when J and I first cut loose. I tried to stay out of the line of fire, flirt lightly to get the hang of things, not get into anything serious. I succeeded! 

Or so I thought. 

Pre-2005, as my flashback reminded me, I was... either a bitch or some type of superhero. I led guys on, although I didn't know I was doing it. I'd date a guy for a bit, and then, when I got bored, I'd ignore them until they stopped calling. Does that make me a bitch for leading them on? Or a superhero for attracting all those men and then giving them a taste of their own man-medicine? 

Much as I'd LOVE to say superhero, I'm afraid it is the former explanation thats most logical. 

(damn.) 

Pre-2005: I led guys on. Flirted shamelessly until they were texting multiple times a day, and then I moved on. Cut them out completely without any warning. 

Now: I've already done this to one. As I realized this morning, I'm in the process of doing it to two more. 

The pluperfect tense refers to an action that happened in the past and continues in the present. I am living the pluperfect, minus the literal sentence structure. Am I evil? Or am I me? Do I need to change the pattern before it continues, or is that just me? Is that just how I work, how I find love, how I operate in relationship situations? Do I need to change it up? Do I need to give out a warning? Or should I just learn a better way to give guys the old 'heave-ho' and jump into the fire? 

I thought dating would be the end of the trouble. 

Oh how it seems to have just begun. 

Again. 

L

and show me a sign

There is a tiny tickle at the bottom of my stomach every time I drive far enough up the highway to cross into the city J and I called home. 

It is a really unpleasant tickle. 

That's putting it softly. Too softly. 

In reality, every exit along the highway through that city makes me cringe. My stomach turns. The nausea is equally unpleasant, reminding me of how sick I was when we first broke up. 

Just when I thought I was doing well enough to leave the house with a smile every day, well enough to have civilized conversations with J, I start having emotional reactions to highway signs. 

The natural response to my new-found fear of highway signs is that the signs remind me of J, remind me of my 'old life'. That, however, is not very fun. In fact, that explanation is mundane and predictable. If I'm going to be sick at the sight of a highway sign, I'd prefer a more creative explanation. 

So from now on, when I drive through the city I used to call home and feel that horrible turn in my stomach, I will blame the nausea on the elevation, the increasingly clean air, the disgusting displays of wealth via unnecessarily large vehicles, the infuriating glare of the sun off the carpool lane signs, an inexplicable pang of hunger which I could blame on any number of fast food signs along the 4 exit stretch... 

Or just what it is. Stop avoiding it. 

The highway makes me sick because it has so few overpasses, obviously. A stretch of highway that long should have overpasses. The lack thereof is blatantly responsible for my sickness. 

Off to petition the city council for more overpasses... 

L 

blink, breathe, smile

i blinked today and something changed. 

something changed inside me, but i did not lose my footing. i did not falter. 

i blinked today, something changed, and the day is still going to end with a smile. 

first and foremost, i am not ready for a new relationship. i am not ready for anything. i am too damaged to even spend time with the same person multiple days in a row! i feel suffocated, stifled, and to be quite honest, i get bitchy. i get bitchy and i do not care. i, my friends, am not ready. and happy to say it out loud. 

but i am ready to cut ties with my old relationship. today J and i cut our final tie to one another. we were each still paying subscriptions on a monthly basis that served the other person. when we lived together these were expenses that just evened out. when we broke up there were bigger things to deal with. for the past couple months, salvaging our friendship was more important than thinking about bills that pretty much cancelled each other out anyway. 

but today we took a step. a big step. today we cut our last tie. and i feel fine. 

overall, today i ventured into new territory, and decided that this new place, lonely as it may sometimes be, is exactly where i belong. 

i belong. 

what a wonderful reason to smile. 

L 

vienna

slow down you crazy child, you're so ambitious for a juvenile. 

i've been avoiding reality. you can do it too. just convince yourself that the inevitable is completely negotiable, and then you'll have a fun delusional time just like i've been having. think "it has only been two months, but i am doing GREAT. like nothing ever happened!"... think "we are both moving on, we are doing so well. so completely almost healed."... think "we are still friends. i still love him and want what's best for him, but i'm so okay with us not being together."

but then if you're so smart, tell me why are you still so afraid? 

reality is confronting me and insisting, against all i know to be true in the world, that real life is going to win this round. i can pretend and imagine and tease my mind all i want, but in the end, reality wins. like it or not. i believe the technical term for that is "sucks to be you". this is not the first time it has sucked to be me, you'd think i could handle it by now. why am i still trying to convince myself that my make believe reality is the real thing? why can't i own up to my own life? why am i always hiding from something?

slow down you're doing fine, you can't be everything you want to be before your time.

i still wear my tiara when i get sad. i use too much soap when i do laundry because i love the smell of detergent. i put band aids on anything that hurts, even if there is no visible injury. i keep my mouse ears in the car incase i need them. on that note, i keep a tambourine in the trunk for that same reason. so much of what makes up my me-ness is beyond the scope of a normal reality. i have no regard for saving money. band aids are expensive, but the comfort i get from knowing my ouchies are covered is worth it. i wash clothes that i've worn for only 5 minutes, because i need to smell that familiar detergent smell and know that some things don't change. instead of learning to fix a flat, i learned to call AAA, and have devoted my trunk space to child-like objects. but wearing my tiara when times are tough, that is one protection i'm not willing to give up. that tiny piece of plastic has protected me countless times. 5$ well spent. better protection than any therapist could've given. 

you've got your passion, you've got your pride, but don't you know that only fools are satisfied.

i am well on my way to succeeding at what i wish to do. i am young enough and strong enough to accomplish my academic goals well before i turn 30. even this rift in my plans hasn't thrown me far off course, i'm still moving forward. i am the little engine that could. i have made it this far unscathed, so of course i'll make it the rest of the way with flying colors. right? or am i telling myself that to close out reality. when i take off my tiara, when i've run out of bandaids, when i am paying to do my laundry with a roll of quarters and using generic detergent, will i still 'think i can'? the little engine did it. casey junior thought it long enough and hard enough that he made it up that hill. so i can do it, too! . . . there i go again, replacing reality with story books. the lesson here seems to be that i'm not ready for reality. i can't even face it when i type it all out. 

dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true.

L

*lyrics from Billy Joel's Vienna