the view from here

All I can hope for is someone to love me. I want that love to be as I imagine it-- a little bit selfish, but undying; all mine, committed and proven; safe, but not the easy way. I want him to be who I call on my way home for the night, although I need not spend every night with him. I want the honeymoon phase, but I want it to last the rest of my life, not just a really intense 3 weeks of perfection. For all normal purposes, I have unreasonable standards.

I just want someone to say to me... 

I tested the grass on the other side. It was a let down. I remembered what it was like to be ignored and to battle for passive attention. I want the attention to be mine, all mine, all the time. I don't like having to fight for it. And knowing I've been passed off to a wingman is just not something I can handle. I need the alpha, and I need to know that I'm the alpha. But there is something to be said for hopping to the other side. It is a potent reminder of how wonderful your side is.

I'll always be there when you wake... 

As far as I can tell, he wants me. He wants to love me in a somewhat selfish way, that is mostly for me but entirely for him. He is happy to see me, to talk to me, to know me. He might even need me if he'd let himself think so. (And he won't. I wouldn't. Can't blame him.) We are both stubborn and self-assured. We both want to be right, and we both win our arguments. We should clash instantly, but he lets me slide for being me. He likes me for being me. Me. This is new and unusual ground. I'm talking more about myself than about him. I'm more challenged by his appreciation for me than by his disregard for me. It is new territory. He likes me more than I like him. But every glance to the other side reminds me that I like him more than I admit that I do.

So stay with me and I'll have it made. 

Whether I want to admit it or not, I have really hit something good here. Now lets all put our heads down and pray that I don't fuck it up.
I have such a tendency to fuck things up.
L

*Lyrics from Blind Melon's No Rain 

punching people in supermarkets

I talk a lot. But when it matters, I do not talk enough. Instead, I act out in my own special ways. I feel like I'm out of control. Okay, I have command over my living situation. Over my money. Over my job. But the issue is that I have no control at all over what I say under the influence of affection. I have no control over myself when faced with monogamy. I'm up, and I'm down, and I'm happy, and then I'm all over the place. And since I have no apparent outlet for the fear welling up in my mind, I rebel wherever I can find the opportunity. 

But I love you more than words can say

I can't count the reasons I should stay  

It seems entirely too possible that the reason I can't trust anyone is because I don't think I could trust myself. I don't mean to hurt anyone, but I end up punching people in supermarkets far too often. (It's a metaphor. Root: Parenthood. Watch it on Tuesday nights.) I can't find a way to rationally express the fear/anxiety/weakness I have in and around relationships, so I subconsciously try to sabotage them. I don't realize what I'm doing, or I do and I don't do anything about it. But if I'm fighting it, then maybe it is meant to be fought. 

I can't count the reasons I should stay 

One by one they all just fade away

This time I'm not going to be able to fight my way out. He has waited for me. And he will wait for me. And he is genuinely interested in being committed to me. Me. And I'd be lying if I said that was easy to understand. That puts on a lot of pressure. It is a wonderful thing to be reminded that I'm worth something to someone, but all that build up makes the fall so much further when I mess it up. I have to be better than myself. I have to be stronger than myself, more capable than myself, more reliable than myself. He knows me, he knows me well, and he puts up with my idiosyncrasies. No questions asked. Generally when I screw up, he smiles like he knew it was coming, kisses me and says something reassuring. Because he does know its coming. He does know me. So he has to know I'm having trouble with all this. But for the life of me I don't know how to put it into words. 

I've got to figure it out. And stop trying to ruin everything good that happens. 

One by one they all just fade away

But I love you more than words can say 

I can't just go around punching people in supermarkets. 

L

*Lyrics from The 88's At Least It Was Here

if, then

I had a conversation with someone at work the other day about girls who feel the need to check their man's text messages. My overall feeling is that if you need to check their texts, there is no trust, and the relationship is over. Done and done.

In high school, I checked texts. I moderated phone calls. I was that girl. 

And that relationship ended in a long, drawn out, overly public, powerfully painful way. My ignorance to the importance of trust led me into years of crying myself to sleep-- which led to some really excellent writing, but thats another discussion. 

With J, I did not check texts. I was suspicious once, and that passed. Trust prevailed.

And that relationship ended in one quick blow followed by 2 uncomfortable weeks of packing and uncertainty. We were a rock in the trust category, but it still ended up down the drain. (Interesting that our break up took place in a bathroom? I don't think I've ever fully thought about how funny that location choice really is.) 

Checking a text on C's phone is what ended our official relationship. It would have ended no matter what I found; the fact that I worried enough to check was reason enough to end it. But I found something I didn't want to. 

And that relationship officially ended in a splash of tears. Yes, we dragged out the together-not together saga for a year after, but the titles on the relationship dropped that night. If I don't trust you, there can't be any title that says I do.

So far we've learned that whether or not I check texts, the relationship ends. As a general rule, the relationship lasts longer when I do not check texts. Trust is a solid foundation. 

And now I'm in the beginning of a situation: Tonight, just for a minute, I wanted to check. I didn't, and I'm not going to; nothing is that important. But I worry that there is something there. I worry because I know for a fact that I sent him texts at one point that were a worry for someone else. And if my texts were reciprocated then, what's stopping him from answering someone else's similarly relationship-threatening texts now? 

If once, then always. 

Once, always. 

Done and done. 

L

sleepless

I think I'll know when I find 'the one'- or at least the next real thing- when I stop thinking of C as I'm trying to sleep.
(Until then, thank you for giving me such difficult sleep cycles. It certainly is hard to get to sleep while I'm thinking about missing you, but the dreams are awfully wonderful.)
Sweet dreams.
L

freaks come out at night

Halloween on a Sunday means 3 days of Halloween. Friday: work Halloween, club/dancing Halloween. Saturday: day 1 Halloween hangover, party Halloween, pub crawl Halloween. Sunday: day 2 Halloween hangover, football Halloween, children's Halloween.

I dislike so much about this holiday. I strongly dislike the word Halloween (possibly because I've typed it so many times in the past minute?). But mostly I've just always hated being scared. This whole holiday is about embracing fear-- walk into a maze made of thick wheat where no one can hear me scream or find me to help? sure! go into a dark house where nightmares jump out at me in an effort to make me cry? of course!!-- and I'm just not the type to go along with that. But, I am not the one to fight a good time. I celebrated the holiday this year, like most, with the best of them.

I faced quite a few fears Saturday. 3 were noteworthy:

1. My costume. I dressed as my worst fear. I was a very subtle, non-threatening version of said fear, but I did it. I made myself into a dinosaur. And wouldn't you know it, as I'm walking down the steps from my front porch, my first official act after putting on my dino-sweatshirt and dino-shoes was my misguided step onto a snail. Killed the poor thing. Really just reaffirmed my fear- dinosaurs will kill anything smaller than them. Fear faced, and still firmly in place.

2. Talked to C. I haven't talked to him in about 2 months. I let him fall off my radar, and I fell off his. For the better, as you'll all agree, since that relationship was literally drug-like. Early in the night, a bar was showing a movie that was one of C's favorites. I texted him to say hi, and that his movie was on. We chatted on and off the rest of the night. I am proud to say that I did NOT get into a cab to go see him. I did NOT invite him over. I did NOT ask him what he was doing later, tomorrow, this week, ever. And I don't feel like I need to. I had a friendly, platonic, non-confrontational interaction with one of the loves of my life. Fear faced, and conquered.

3. Commitment issues, like whoa. I scare easy, in the corn-maze way and the relationship way. This weekend brought it out in me. I was looking for sneak exits in every establishment. Never took a sneaky way out, stayed with who I was there with, but WOW did I feel my mind scoping for escape routes. (Maybe that is what urged me to text C in the first place?). BUT I didn't run. Still here. Shaking in my boots and definitely more a flight risk now than ever before, but still here. Fear faced, and acknowledged.

To summarize: I'm afraid of dinosaurs stepping on me. I can still love C, but not be a raving lunatic clamoring for his attention. The thought of being tied to anyone makes me literally want to run away.

Facing fears doesn't always mean conquering them. Unfortunate, cos I'm just going to have to keep facing them until they go away.
Maybe just once a year, though.
L

literally biting the hand that feeds

I cancelled another date. It's becoming a serious problem. 9 out of 10 times this doesn't bother me, because once the date is cancelled I rarely have to see the guy again, other than the random run-ins on J street on drunken Friday nights, but this time it is one of those exceptions. An exception that I fall into more often than I'd like.
I can officially say "Oops, I did it again."

Since I've been single in midtown, I've gotten attached to quite a few watering holes. Ahem. I've gotten attached to one spot at a time. What makes me leave one pseudo-home for the next one? I tend to date the help. Or, as is my way, make dates and then cancel them, and in order to avoid awkwardness, find a new place to hang out.

This was my first venturing outside of the "bartender"type. The date I cancelled this week was with an executive chef! I thought by getting out from behind the bar I might be making a step in the right direction. The though has merit... but my follow through is severely lacking. There goes my late-night-taco stop, my mid-afternoon-burger joint, my Sunday-funday hangout. I'd rather find a new bar than deal with that awkwardness.

From now on I only date make dates with people who work in bars I severely dislike. Thats the right moral to get from this story, right?
...right?
L

push

Today I was told that I date like my mother. This was intended as a compliment. 

There are so many nice, good, quality guys out there that I've shut down because I'm quick to judge and committed to my decisions. Not second guessing myself, not at all, but wondering why there are so many nice guys I don't want, and so few that I do. 

Can't push away someone who is already running. 

Running toward...?

L

just one piece

Thought it was over, didn't you. Sorry for the tease.

You've already broken my heart 

Made huge steps this month without you. Pictured life without you and survived completely. Was pretty sure you were gone for good. I mentally started packing our memory box away for closet storage. All I needed was closure. Give me back my keys and make that graceful exit I know you can make.


I'd like to keep at least one piece 


Seems like you can't go quietly. Content to let me fidget and forget and force moving on, but then you sneak back under my skin. It wasn't difficult. You didn't need to be a magician. I could've used some powers to shield myself, but we both know I can't fight the cravings once you wake them up. And somewhere between sunset on Friday and 4 am Sunday- Hello Sunshine.


You can take all that you want 


Wasting no time. You work quickly when there's something on the line, something at stake. Wonder what it is this time? We're starting again like the first time- like the very beginning. Flirting in text messages from completely separate geographic locations. Couldn't see you now if I tried. Makes the words stronger. Makes me more vulnerable. Not complaining.


But you're gonna have to share it with me. 


Chances aren't going to run out for you. I've got an unlimited supply stored up. As long as I wake up smiling after just thinking about you in dreams, you can keep coming around. Please do. But watch your step. I wiped the slate clean this month, so try not to mess it up too quickly. Don't abuse your power.


Share it with me, just one piece. 
L

*Lyrics from Family Force 5's Share It With Me 

not another girl meets boy

Stuck somewhere between La Roux's "I'm Not Your Toy" and B.O.B.'s "Airplanes". I'm either happy or not. Somewhere between a minor chord and a major in my head. I'm as confused as Lady Gaga's parents must be when they look at baby pictures. Even my body is in limbo-- the front half of me is burnt to a deep lobster red, and the back half is plain and pale. I'm awake and alert but all I want to do is sleep it off. I really do not like this in between.

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?
Cos I could really use a wish right now. 

My wish would be for this burn to go away. I'm pretty completely sure that if this burn disappeared, all the other things plaguing my mind would fade pretty quickly. I spent the weekend at a soccer tournament, watching C play, like I did all last summer. Sitting in the grass and watching him coach from the back of the field, run on his extremely f-ed up leg, cooly defend his keeper... nothing could make me happier for 20 minutes at a time. But once the game ends, life gets back to normal. He's just as cool off the field. He nods at me. Smiles. And walks away. He texts one word answers and I text sentences back. I crave his attention and he basks in mine. 

I've been doing this- we've been doing this- for a year. Officially for a year next Sunday. 

It's all false love and affection. 

You don't want me, you just like the attention.

Stupid sparks. Gets in the way of everything. My brain cant differentiate between anger and love, so I am trapped in this spark-heavy trap. And everyone I meet, everyone I date, everyone I spend an hour getting to know, every one of them falls short. Not because they aren't great people. They are! They're fantastic! They are all perfect catches! But if my heart doesn't skip a beat, I don't have the urge to try anymore. Someone else gets my attention for a week, but it always goes back to C. 

I'm sure thats how he likes it. I probably like it that way, too. Damn my spark-cravings. 

Prom girl wipes her tears with silver lines, and she can't get enough. 

I bring it all on myself. I know, but I like it. And if my sunburn went away, I could get back to enjoying the mess I've buried myself in. 

I just love love. I love love too much. I love it so much that every emotion wants to be love. 

But at least thats one thing I've got straight. 

L 

**Lyrics from B.O.B.'s Airplanes, La Roux's I'm Not Your Toy, and Lady Gaga's I Like It Rough.

scare easy

I'm not sure how well the arranged marriage will work out. I may not be built right for it. I require an initial spark. I crave those damn butterflies. If they aren't there, I get bored faster than a 4 year old watching Citizen Kane. And that pretty much sums up what has become of my arranged marriage. Not a butterfly in the place. Not even a caterpillar.
Or, at least, not that I can see. He, on the other hand, is in some fairy tale land akin to the butterfly garden at Marine World. He tells me, he tells his friends. He's been struck by a spark I didn't ever see. And he's very clear on that! And me? I scare easy. This is me running. I don't want to be mean, I don't want to be a heartbreaker, but it is situations like this one that give me that reputation. I have spent a total of 3 hours with this person, and he's already shouting from the rooftops. If he'd shut up long enough to watch me react to the screaming, he'd have saved us both a lot of trouble. As it is, though, I have to have an awkward conversation with an unsuspecting, innocent guy, who meant no harm. Suddenly I'm the bitch again. I'm the bitch just because I don't feel it. I'm not even giving him a name here. He's my failed attempt at an arranged marriage. He will be a reminder that I am a hopeless romantic, and I require love from the start.
Tonight I will have the awkward conversation. It will be a long, awkward, uncomfortable night. I will learn my lesson.
I hope I learn my lesson. I hate this conversation.
L

starting over

Wall! Finally, I have found it. I hit it tonight! Didn't hurt myself, didn't hurt the wall. Passersby probably didn't even notice that I touched the wall, but I know that I found it.
Since my expectations are set so unbelievably low for C, he doesn't have to do much to surpass them and impress me and make me fall all over again. But I hold a big double standard for men- obviously- in that no other guy can hit any expectation that I have set for them. Every other guy falls miserably short, to the point where I fear I may be alone forever.
It seems that I have only one option left. This option will get rid of C and finish the difficult meeting/dating/dumping cycle I've gotten stuck in! Ready? I don't know that you are... but without further ado, the final frontier:
arranged marriage!

If I pick one, and stick to that one, then I'll have to deal with it no matter what "it" may be! As noted on How I Met Your Mother this week, "free-will gets you constant, ego-shattering uncertainty," which is something I just do not need. An arranged marriage would give me no choices, I'd have to love him, I'd have to appreciate him, and any kind of pre-conceived expectations would be completely irrelevant.
Ok. Thats the plan. Cutest guy I meet this weekend gets to be mine forever, whether we're compatible or not. We'll make it work. I believe in us. Thus begins the great adventure of the only relationship for the rest of my life.
The beginning really is the best part.
L

my love letter

I am writing this letter so that you'll know, incase I hadn't sent enough smoke signals to alert the world. I want you to know all the things I cannot tell you in person. I want to free all the feelings I cannot show you in any way aside from my written words. I am writing because you free me inside, you free me to be what I am, nothing held back, and no matter who that is at the end of the day, you'll still kiss me goodnight.

cos i love the way you say good morning

I am writing because you're the first and last thing I think of, and even though those thoughts aren't always happy, they give me chills. I want you to know that you still give me butterflies. I want to show you how much space you occupy in my mind. I am writing because you inspire me to write. I am writing because otherwise I'd be overflowing with feelings and I'd hate for you to have to clean that up.

cos i love the way you call me baby

I am writing because you're an excellent distraction. I want you to know that even when you aren't here, you really are. I want to show you how many lonely nights you've brought me through, how many sad moments you've dragged me out of. I am writing because doing anything else would be pointless- I have only enough dedication in me to write this to you.

cos i love you more than i could ever promise

I am writing this letter so that you'll know, incase you hadn't seen the other 76 letters, how much I adore you. I want you to know how much I appreciate the lessons we've learned, the trouble we've faced, the smiles we've shared. I want to show you how far you've brought me. I want you to see how much you've changed me, for the better. I am writing because you have reminded me what it's like to live, what it's like to be me. I am writing because you gave me a reason to sing again.

and you take me the way i am

L

*lyrics from Ingrid Michaelson's The Way I Am

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

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

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

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

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"