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