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

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

trying to be fearless

Some of my fears are irrational. I've got a terrible fear of dinosaurs-- specifically re-creations that look realistic, movies that suggest they could come back, not-so realistic representations that show up when I least expect them. I used to be so afraid of the shower drain that I made my little sister stay in the bathroom with me whenever I took a shower. I'm afraid of large bodies of water through which I cannot see. If the bottom is visible, I'm good anywhere. One piece of seaweed grabs my unsuspecting leg, though, and I'm out. I've had these fears for as long as I can remember. I'm making some progress on conquering them, but there will always be something terrifying to me about dinosaurs, shower drains, and murky water.

When I was a teenager, I thought I was scared of rejection. I thought the feeling keeping me in unhappy relationships and stopping me from trying harder and putting myself out there was a fear of being rejected. I got rejected. Multiple times. Now, years later, I've been rejected more times than I can count. It's not a fear of rejection, and it never was. It's just a normal dislike for rejection. The fear is behind it. The fear is of being rejected to the point where I become, ultimately, in all aspects of my life, alone.

The next step in my life requires me to face loneliness. Not just being alone, being away from family and friends, being far from everything I know and have come to count on, but being completely and totally lonely. I am walking into this knowing full well that I will cry myself to sleep for a while, and that it will be a long long while before someone comes around to clean up the mess. I'm not expecting anyone to clean it up, honestly. I am expecting tear-soaked pillows for the foreseeable future.

Every piece of the potential next step sounds like it could be a wonderful adventure. I'll learn more about me, about what I want to do with my life, about what I am capable of, and of course, what I'm not capable of. But I'm doing it alone. I'm trying to frame loneliness as part of the adventure... but this is a tough one, even for me. I can't let my fear of complete loneliness keep me from moving forward, though. I have to keep going. I'm scared of the drain, but I still spend an hour in the shower. I'm scared of the water, but my favorite place in the world is still on a boat in the middle of the lake. I'm scared to do this alone, but maybe something amazing will come of it.
I think I'm going to face this dinosaur.
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