I believe the last time I felt the need to write, I mentioned that I was dating a guy. About that.........
Turns out, he's fucking weird. Maybe that's a little harsh. I hear from him maybe once every 10 days. Sometimes a little sooner. I've given up on him. I have no idea what he wants, and frankly, I don't have time to figure him out (that's actually a lie. I do have the time to figure him out, but guess what's always on t.v.? Law and Order: SVU. And you know I'm not missing that shit to sit around and think about a guy.) After being in touch for three months, we are nowhere near a relationship status change on Facebook.
Truthfully, I have no one to blame but myself. Well, sort of. The timing is just awful. Since November, my schedule has been a little crazypants. He works regular business hours, and there is absolutely nothing regular about my hours. And let's throw in the fact that I also have children. When he has called to get together, I'm working. So then he'll call me late at night to hang out, and that feels like a booty call, so I decline. Other than the timing being crappy, I've made things entirely too easy for him. And by things, I mean myself.
We hung out the night after Thanksgiving. I had a ton of leftovers, he somehow ended up without any leftovers. In a round about way, he asked me to bring some food over, which I did. Why the fuck did I do that? Because I'm too goddamn nice and I'm a people pleaser, that's fucking why.
So I bring the food, he has a foodgasm and then wants to.......you know. And I'm all, "Let's do this." Ugh! So stupid!! Not only have I fed him delicious food, I've also given him.......vagina. He's done absolutely nothing to deserve it. I have not been wooed. I have not been taken to dinner. I have not received flowers or a Build-A-Bear.
Last weekend, I went out with an old friend (bitch got me hammered) and what do you know? J sends me a texty text and it was actually adorable. He asked if I had my Christmas decorations up yet. I do not, I replied. He offered to come over with dinner and help me decorate. So cute, right!? Well, I was at least 3 beers in at that point, and there was really no turning back. My liquid courage kicked in and I flat out asked him what the fuck we were doing. I said, and I quote, "Please, if you're not into me enough to actually date me, then let's just cut the crap and call it a day". He seemed bewildered at my boldness (which most guys are when you call them out on their shit). He asked if we could just hang out that night and talk and even offered to come and get me from the bar. I declined. Mostly because I was with an old friend whom I hadn't seen in years and obviously was not about to ditch her. I also did not leave because I would then again be dropping everything for him and fuck that. We didn't really get to end the conversation because my phone died. So I went home alone.
The next day, I wanted a diner breakfast so badly I was almost willing to go by myself. Before I got in touch with another old friend I wanted to ask to go with me, I thought maybe I should smooth things over with J first. I texted him, and he acted like the previous conversation never happened. I asked if he wanted to go to breakfast with me, he said he was already starting to eat a breakfast he had made himself. Sigh. Back to Square 1. I grabbed breakfast with my buddy instead and had a great time. Haven't talked to J in five days, but I'll bet any money that he'll text me late on Friday night, wanting to hang out. I don't plan on answering.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
I Hate Horror Movies So Why Did I Think Dating Would Be Any Better?
Here we go again!
Juuuuuust when I'm about to put a pin in dating for a little bit, I receive a message (online dating, it's an adventure everyday) from a guy who writes something more than "Hi" or "Hey Sexy". His profile lacked information and he didn't have a picture, yet I was intrigued. After emailing back and forth, and coming to the realization that he did happen to have a personality and was also pretty cute, we inevitably exchanged phone numbers. After our first four hour long conversation, I was completely stunned. He has the exact same sense of humor as I do. It's almost creepy. We actually talk the same way when we're joking around. I know this sounds kind of nuts, but I am kind of nuts. I'm a complete goofball. Very rarely do I find someone who can appreciate my level of nerdy goofiness and actually gets it. Despite the fact that I am blessed with the ability to hold a conversation with pretty much anyone, I often feel very alone. But before we break out the tissues, let me explain. Personality wise, I've always felt like an outsider and quite different from most people. Yes, obviously, no two people are the same. I seem to have trouble relating with others, especially other women, because I don't take life too seriously and sooooooo many women are wrapped up in some sort of drama or they sweat the small stuff. That's no way to live. I digress.
So, I've never met anyone else with a personality so similar to my own, with the exception of my pirate beeches (my lovely friends, Megan and Bridget). This guy, J, my male counterpart, is also extremely sweet, understanding, and he has shit together. Let's review:
Job? Check. Fourteen years with the same employer.
Not in parents' basement? Check. Homeowner.
Values and morals? Yes. Check.
Funny? Almost peed my pants twice. Check.
Not a serial killer or sociopath? Double check.
Throughout every conversation we've had, we've taken a few moments to reflect on our similarities. It usually goes something like, "Oh my god, who ARE you?! Seriously?? You exist??" For our first date, we went out for drinks. Chemistry. Boom. Crazy mutual attraction. The conversation flowed like a river. And that's all I'm going to say about our first date. My mother reads this.
After we parted, he called me immediately and we talked the entire way back to my house. In the days that followed, we established a routine: Text a little during the day, then talk on the phone for at least an hour before turning in for the night. Why am I analyzing every phone interaction? Because I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know what the rules of dating are now. I'm in a whole new age bracket, the 30-40 age box. I'm not even sure what feels right at this point. I don't want to scare him by accidentally sending one too many text messages or perhaps calling him at the wrong time. Furthermore, I'm not quite sure what his intentions are with me or if he even knows that yet. How do you know if someone is really into you for who you are or if he just wants to bone you? This is the problem I'm having.
There was a second date, sort of. We just hung out at his house, which I was initially against. I don't want to set the standard of just "hanging out". I really want to DATE. We don't need to have four course meals, but can we go bowling? Or go to Rosie's for a Giants game? (We're both Giants fans......swoon!) Or sit on a park bench and make fun of people that walk by us? Go out for hot dogs? Something? How do I bring this up without sounding high maintenance and like I want him to take me out? Even though I kind of do.... We'll shelve this one for now.
After our second "date", I didn't hear from him as much. I immediately put on the brakes. Ok so maybe he does just want to hook up with me. Well I'm not cool with that so I'm going to cease all communication and wait this out. I was out with my good pal, Jeramy, last Sunday watching the Giants v. Browns game, and naturally, Giants were eating the Browns for dinner. After a beer or five, I decided one little text to J to comment on the game wouldn't do any harm... So I send him a text about the game and he responds. We go back and forth for a little bit, and then I stop hearing from him. So I followed suit and stopped texting him as well. This guy is wicked good at playing hard to get. He could teach a class on this shit.
Four days pass without a peep from J-bird. I throw in the towel and start exploring other options. And by options, I mean other single men. Shockingly, no one as funny or cool as J catches my attention. Suddenly, I get a text from him after 4 days of nada and he's acting like everything's cool as a cucumber. I play along, act super casual, then just as before.........he doesn't respond to my last text. W.T.F. Foiled again.
Ok, now I am REALLY giving up. Forget it. I don't understand. In every serious relationship I've had, I've never questioned the intentions of guys I've previously dated. Consistent calls or texts, endless flattery, dinners, small tokens of affection, flowers, basically lots of wooing. But after having a conversation with my mother, she brought some things to my attention.
I've never dated anyone who was content with himself or felt that level of confidence that only comes with age and after a few accomplishments. I seemed to only date guys with bad habits. Illegal bad habits. And also guys with no goals, no credit, and no high school diploma. (No judgies. I didn't learn my lesson until I turned 30.) Maybe my exes felt they had to work twice as hard to keep me around because they knew I was......perhaps, a little out of their league? The problem is, I got used to someone worshiping the ground I walk on. I don't mean that I received Tiffany necklaces for Christmas or flowers every day. But, generally speaking of course, I was treated like a princess in the early stages of every relationship and I ate it up. Treated like a princess, until everything spiraled downward and fell apart into a great big giant mess.
So J calls me today. When I see his name show up on my caller ID, I don't even know what I'm going to say. A few things cross my mind, such as, "What is your fucking deal?" and "Ohhh so nice to hear from you. I thought you died." Instead, I begin with a "hello", since this is America and that's typically how we answer the phone. We end up talking for an hour about everything under the sun, yet again. I did (in a joking manner) bring up the time lapse since the last time we spoke, and his response was "I don't recall hearing from you either...." Then I realized, this guy doesn't play games. I don't have to wait to contact him. I can do whatever I'm in the mood for, just as long as I'm not in the mood to look like a needy psychopath. He's secure and content with himself. He doesn't need to have someone in his life, he wants to have someone in his life. And he's been single for 4 years, waiting to find someone worthwhile. He's smarter than a lot of people are these days. He doesn't rush into things only to regret them later, which is how I've lived my life.
What now?
Fun. Just pure, unbridled fun. No labels, no expectations, no pressure. Whatever the hell happens....happens. (Wish me luck. I really like this guy) :)
Juuuuuust when I'm about to put a pin in dating for a little bit, I receive a message (online dating, it's an adventure everyday) from a guy who writes something more than "Hi" or "Hey Sexy". His profile lacked information and he didn't have a picture, yet I was intrigued. After emailing back and forth, and coming to the realization that he did happen to have a personality and was also pretty cute, we inevitably exchanged phone numbers. After our first four hour long conversation, I was completely stunned. He has the exact same sense of humor as I do. It's almost creepy. We actually talk the same way when we're joking around. I know this sounds kind of nuts, but I am kind of nuts. I'm a complete goofball. Very rarely do I find someone who can appreciate my level of nerdy goofiness and actually gets it. Despite the fact that I am blessed with the ability to hold a conversation with pretty much anyone, I often feel very alone. But before we break out the tissues, let me explain. Personality wise, I've always felt like an outsider and quite different from most people. Yes, obviously, no two people are the same. I seem to have trouble relating with others, especially other women, because I don't take life too seriously and sooooooo many women are wrapped up in some sort of drama or they sweat the small stuff. That's no way to live. I digress.
So, I've never met anyone else with a personality so similar to my own, with the exception of my pirate beeches (my lovely friends, Megan and Bridget). This guy, J, my male counterpart, is also extremely sweet, understanding, and he has shit together. Let's review:
Job? Check. Fourteen years with the same employer.
Not in parents' basement? Check. Homeowner.
Values and morals? Yes. Check.
Funny? Almost peed my pants twice. Check.
Not a serial killer or sociopath? Double check.
Throughout every conversation we've had, we've taken a few moments to reflect on our similarities. It usually goes something like, "Oh my god, who ARE you?! Seriously?? You exist??" For our first date, we went out for drinks. Chemistry. Boom. Crazy mutual attraction. The conversation flowed like a river. And that's all I'm going to say about our first date. My mother reads this.
After we parted, he called me immediately and we talked the entire way back to my house. In the days that followed, we established a routine: Text a little during the day, then talk on the phone for at least an hour before turning in for the night. Why am I analyzing every phone interaction? Because I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't know what the rules of dating are now. I'm in a whole new age bracket, the 30-40 age box. I'm not even sure what feels right at this point. I don't want to scare him by accidentally sending one too many text messages or perhaps calling him at the wrong time. Furthermore, I'm not quite sure what his intentions are with me or if he even knows that yet. How do you know if someone is really into you for who you are or if he just wants to bone you? This is the problem I'm having.
There was a second date, sort of. We just hung out at his house, which I was initially against. I don't want to set the standard of just "hanging out". I really want to DATE. We don't need to have four course meals, but can we go bowling? Or go to Rosie's for a Giants game? (We're both Giants fans......swoon!) Or sit on a park bench and make fun of people that walk by us? Go out for hot dogs? Something? How do I bring this up without sounding high maintenance and like I want him to take me out? Even though I kind of do.... We'll shelve this one for now.
After our second "date", I didn't hear from him as much. I immediately put on the brakes. Ok so maybe he does just want to hook up with me. Well I'm not cool with that so I'm going to cease all communication and wait this out. I was out with my good pal, Jeramy, last Sunday watching the Giants v. Browns game, and naturally, Giants were eating the Browns for dinner. After a beer or five, I decided one little text to J to comment on the game wouldn't do any harm... So I send him a text about the game and he responds. We go back and forth for a little bit, and then I stop hearing from him. So I followed suit and stopped texting him as well. This guy is wicked good at playing hard to get. He could teach a class on this shit.
Four days pass without a peep from J-bird. I throw in the towel and start exploring other options. And by options, I mean other single men. Shockingly, no one as funny or cool as J catches my attention. Suddenly, I get a text from him after 4 days of nada and he's acting like everything's cool as a cucumber. I play along, act super casual, then just as before.........he doesn't respond to my last text. W.T.F. Foiled again.
Ok, now I am REALLY giving up. Forget it. I don't understand. In every serious relationship I've had, I've never questioned the intentions of guys I've previously dated. Consistent calls or texts, endless flattery, dinners, small tokens of affection, flowers, basically lots of wooing. But after having a conversation with my mother, she brought some things to my attention.
I've never dated anyone who was content with himself or felt that level of confidence that only comes with age and after a few accomplishments. I seemed to only date guys with bad habits. Illegal bad habits. And also guys with no goals, no credit, and no high school diploma. (No judgies. I didn't learn my lesson until I turned 30.) Maybe my exes felt they had to work twice as hard to keep me around because they knew I was......perhaps, a little out of their league? The problem is, I got used to someone worshiping the ground I walk on. I don't mean that I received Tiffany necklaces for Christmas or flowers every day. But, generally speaking of course, I was treated like a princess in the early stages of every relationship and I ate it up. Treated like a princess, until everything spiraled downward and fell apart into a great big giant mess.
So J calls me today. When I see his name show up on my caller ID, I don't even know what I'm going to say. A few things cross my mind, such as, "What is your fucking deal?" and "Ohhh so nice to hear from you. I thought you died." Instead, I begin with a "hello", since this is America and that's typically how we answer the phone. We end up talking for an hour about everything under the sun, yet again. I did (in a joking manner) bring up the time lapse since the last time we spoke, and his response was "I don't recall hearing from you either...." Then I realized, this guy doesn't play games. I don't have to wait to contact him. I can do whatever I'm in the mood for, just as long as I'm not in the mood to look like a needy psychopath. He's secure and content with himself. He doesn't need to have someone in his life, he wants to have someone in his life. And he's been single for 4 years, waiting to find someone worthwhile. He's smarter than a lot of people are these days. He doesn't rush into things only to regret them later, which is how I've lived my life.
What now?
Fun. Just pure, unbridled fun. No labels, no expectations, no pressure. Whatever the hell happens....happens. (Wish me luck. I really like this guy) :)
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Would I Like to Check Any Bags? Um... What is the Fee for Four Years Worth?
Ok so I have a job. It's not the most challenging or stimulating or well paying job, but I get a paycheck every 2 weeks with my name on it and I can finally tell Sprint that I'll pay my bill by the 20th and actually mean it. Now that I have ungracefully leaped over that hurdle, I feel a little bit better about the mysterious, mystical future.
Why not try dating again? Because I so miss that inner turmoil that comes with trusting someone again. No really, it's my favorite.
Apparently while I was married, this online dating revolution occurred. Everyone's doing it like the Macarena. Or marijuana.... Anyways, it's become a quite popular way of meeting people. And since I really have no other way to meet people, why not?
Oh, I will tell you why not.
This is where the freaks of the world unite. These are my unofficial statistics about online dating:
One out of 10 men is a sexual predator of some sort.
One out of five men is a douchebag.
One out of three looks like a sewer creature.
One out of two wants to meet you for coffee in about 15 minutes. (Can we start with our names first?)
What does this leave me with? One guy. I know that probably doesn't work out mathematically but I had a permanent D in Math, so please lower your expectations now. Only ONE guy is none of the above, a hard worker, a homeowner, a football lover, well adjusted, super nice, mature, thinks I'm hilarious, and has beautiful eyes..............
A few dates later, great conversations that flowed like water, same values, similar interests, and here I am. A giddy, scared, happy mess. I feel like I've had a spring in my step all week. As excited as I've been, I'm actually terrified. I had not expected to like someone as much as I do right now. I was hoping to only kind of like him, and I definitely did not expect to want to introduce him to 488 of my closest friends and my family.
We've talked about our ghosts of relationships' past and what we've been through. He has an idea about my trust issues. I explained that I need lots of reassurance that he's into me in the beginning. I need to know if I'm wasting my time or if he's worth the investment of my trust. I miss the security that I had with my ex. Granted, it was a false sense of security, but when I was naive about it, it was great. The feeling of just knowing for certain that whomever you're with isn't going anywhere is priceless. Ignorance is bliss.
Last night, I confessed to this guy that I'm excited/nervous about dating again. His response was, "Try not to think about your past, let's focus on the future >smiley face<". To which I responded, "And that was exactly what I needed to hear >big smiley face<". But now it's 8:24pm. We had plans to hang out for a little bit tonight, and I haven't heard from him since early afternoon. I texted once, called once.....no response. I can't help but presume the worst, which is, he doesn't want to deal with my baggage and he wanted to spare my feelings by applying a thick layer of liquid sugar over everything. Or he fell asleep. Or ninjas attacked his house. Or his phone has been dead for hours and monkeys in tuxedos stole his charger. Or maybe he's "just not that into me".
Whatever the case may be, I'm not going to allow myself to dwell on whether he's simply ignoring me or if maybe he really did get attacked by ninjas...... I'm going to go back to my old methods of self-preservation that I practiced before I got married. They include:
Delete all text messages from dating offender.
Delete dating offender's phone number from your phone.
Try to completely forget his name. Or at least his last name.
Watch The Notebook, and cry it out.
Although deletion of someone's virtual existence may seem a bit extreme, it's better than leaving the temptation to call or text again wide open and risk looking like a Stage 5 clinger. If he does happen to call me with a lame excuse, or any excuse for that matter, as to why he ditched me, I can then objectively decide if continuing to date him is worthwhile. At least 3 times, he said, "I can't believe you're single! HOW are you single??" To which I replied, "Because I've been waiting for someone awesome." The awesome guys are not punctual. They show up when you least expect them to. Usually, they're late. You have to meet a lot of less than awesome people to figure out what's best for you. And, in my case, he needs to be on fucking time and not keep me waiting all night. Are you sure you want to delete this contact? Yup.
Why not try dating again? Because I so miss that inner turmoil that comes with trusting someone again. No really, it's my favorite.
Apparently while I was married, this online dating revolution occurred. Everyone's doing it like the Macarena. Or marijuana.... Anyways, it's become a quite popular way of meeting people. And since I really have no other way to meet people, why not?
Oh, I will tell you why not.
This is where the freaks of the world unite. These are my unofficial statistics about online dating:
One out of 10 men is a sexual predator of some sort.
One out of five men is a douchebag.
One out of three looks like a sewer creature.
One out of two wants to meet you for coffee in about 15 minutes. (Can we start with our names first?)
What does this leave me with? One guy. I know that probably doesn't work out mathematically but I had a permanent D in Math, so please lower your expectations now. Only ONE guy is none of the above, a hard worker, a homeowner, a football lover, well adjusted, super nice, mature, thinks I'm hilarious, and has beautiful eyes..............
A few dates later, great conversations that flowed like water, same values, similar interests, and here I am. A giddy, scared, happy mess. I feel like I've had a spring in my step all week. As excited as I've been, I'm actually terrified. I had not expected to like someone as much as I do right now. I was hoping to only kind of like him, and I definitely did not expect to want to introduce him to 488 of my closest friends and my family.
We've talked about our ghosts of relationships' past and what we've been through. He has an idea about my trust issues. I explained that I need lots of reassurance that he's into me in the beginning. I need to know if I'm wasting my time or if he's worth the investment of my trust. I miss the security that I had with my ex. Granted, it was a false sense of security, but when I was naive about it, it was great. The feeling of just knowing for certain that whomever you're with isn't going anywhere is priceless. Ignorance is bliss.
Last night, I confessed to this guy that I'm excited/nervous about dating again. His response was, "Try not to think about your past, let's focus on the future >smiley face<". To which I responded, "And that was exactly what I needed to hear >big smiley face<". But now it's 8:24pm. We had plans to hang out for a little bit tonight, and I haven't heard from him since early afternoon. I texted once, called once.....no response. I can't help but presume the worst, which is, he doesn't want to deal with my baggage and he wanted to spare my feelings by applying a thick layer of liquid sugar over everything. Or he fell asleep. Or ninjas attacked his house. Or his phone has been dead for hours and monkeys in tuxedos stole his charger. Or maybe he's "just not that into me".
Whatever the case may be, I'm not going to allow myself to dwell on whether he's simply ignoring me or if maybe he really did get attacked by ninjas...... I'm going to go back to my old methods of self-preservation that I practiced before I got married. They include:
Delete all text messages from dating offender.
Delete dating offender's phone number from your phone.
Try to completely forget his name. Or at least his last name.
Watch The Notebook, and cry it out.
Although deletion of someone's virtual existence may seem a bit extreme, it's better than leaving the temptation to call or text again wide open and risk looking like a Stage 5 clinger. If he does happen to call me with a lame excuse, or any excuse for that matter, as to why he ditched me, I can then objectively decide if continuing to date him is worthwhile. At least 3 times, he said, "I can't believe you're single! HOW are you single??" To which I replied, "Because I've been waiting for someone awesome." The awesome guys are not punctual. They show up when you least expect them to. Usually, they're late. You have to meet a lot of less than awesome people to figure out what's best for you. And, in my case, he needs to be on fucking time and not keep me waiting all night. Are you sure you want to delete this contact? Yup.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Love Is A Many Splendid Clusterfuck of Emotions
It's 1 something am. Can't sleep again. This has become routine over the last month or so. I'm flipping through 200 channels of nothing until I land on Walk The Line. If you've never seen the movie, you should. First of all, it's based on a real, live love story between Johnny Cash and June Carter that endured so much difficulty, it's incredible that they remained married until their deaths. The scene I happened upon was Thanksgiving dinner at Johnny's new house. June, her children, her parents, Cash's children, and his parents were all together for the first time. Cash's father was a real asshole and never showed him any love whatsoever during his childhood. As a result of constant abuse and some bad decisions, Cash battled with an addiction to drugs and alcohol on and off for years as an adult. During dinner, some words were exchanged between Cash and his father. June finally understands the deep-seated depression and guilt Cash has suffered from his whole life and the reason behind his drug abuse. She then puts her life on hold to stay by his side and take care of him as he detoxes from his addictions. In my opinion, it's the best part of the entire movie. That's love. True, honest to goodness love.
So naturally, I start bawling like an infant.
The day my ex and I went to divorce court, we decided to get back together. You read that correctly. Yes, we're batshit crazy. What were we thinking, blah blah blah. Well, for the record, we weren't. We finally had the conversation that I had been waiting for us to have for a long time. The conversation that would shed some light on what really went wrong in our marriage. The VH1 Behind The Music, E! True Hollywood Story account of what happened between us. The acceptance of each other's faults, the apologies for the mistakes we made, and the realization that deep down, there may have still been some love left in our hearts. We sat on a bench in the middle of a bustling downtown square, held each other, and cried it out. He smoothed my hair, kissed my cheek, and I became putty in his hands all over again. All kinds of warning signs, red flags, and foghorns were trying to keep me from making yet another stupid mistake, but I just kept driving down this crazy, winding road of bliss and confusion. Before we parted that day, we concluded that we should try to actually date and get to know each other all over again, something that we should have done 4 years ago. For the two months that followed, there were lunches and coffee dates, flirting and smiling and jellowy leg feelings. That fiery passion, that electricity we had felt from the moment we were in the same room with each other, remained. He seemed so much more mature, and I really felt as though he and I had both come out of our divorce as better people. Everything was wonderful for about 2 and 1/2 months (standard honeymoon phase time frame). A few things happened that brought me back to reality. It became apparent to me that he hadn't changed much at all in certain ways. He is who he is, and no amount of time will change him into the person I want him to be. I subconsciously became withdrawn, I communicated with him less, lost that burning desire to be next to him, but I was too much of a coward and harbored too much guilt about those feelings to come right out and tell him what was on my mind. I also had, and still do have, so much I need to take care of on my own, just little things like getting a job and trying to plan out the rest of my life.
His work schedule became quite hectic around the same time I began to change my mind about our future together. Communication diminished even more, and it got to a point where we didn't talk at all for a week. No plans were made to spend time together as a family or even with just him and the kids. I finally broke the silence and got the impression he had moved on from me. Not necessarily with another woman, but just moved on from our relationship without there being a discussion about it. In a way, I suppose I had, too. Now we're back to where we were 6 months ago: Him spending weekends with one or both kids and me trying to get over this relationship again. Even though I'm certain we're not right for each other, there's still a lingering ache that I don't know how to subdue. The way things have ended so suddenly, twice now, keeps messing with my head. Have we just been in lust this whole time? I was so sure that I truly loved him and that the feeling was basically mutual. Is this how it happens? Does love begin and end like a blow to the head? It's hard for me to come to terms with the notion that he never really loved me at all, that maybe he just loved my sense of humor or my other quirky personality traits, and didn't love all of who I am. When we were married and together, I know with all of my heart that I loved him for who he was. This time around, I think I got caught up in a whirlwind of lust and a selfish need to feel like I meant something to someone again. It's not my place to say or even hypothesize what he was thinking when he asked if I wanted to go for a walk with him the day we left divorce court. All I know is, we've never fought to be with each other. When one of us becomes distant, the other doesn't fight to become closer. There's just this mutual acceptance of the situation.
I take full responsibility for my mistakes, but this is how I learn: Royally fucking something up, feeling devastated, hating myself, watching old movies, and eating ice cream. Then I'm all better a few days later. One day, hopefully sooner than later, I'll break the self-pity cycle. In the meantime, I have officially sworn off dating until I totally have a grip on what I'm doing with the rest of my life. When I say dating, I mean all aspects of dating. Nothing physical or emotional or a combination of both. No more self destructive behavior, no more crying over something that was obviously never meant to be in the first place, no more ice cre-.........well, let's not push it. After a full year of this relationship being in an odd form of limbo, it's over for good. Seriously. I'm not kidding. Never again. Fat lady sang, Randy Jackson said "Hey yo, that was dope, dog!" The end. Fin.
Now, where did I leave my confidence..... I think it's somewhere near the happiness, but I can't find that either. Then again, it's always in the last place you looked.
"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to
replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It
dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of
tarnishing." Anais Nin
So naturally, I start bawling like an infant.
The day my ex and I went to divorce court, we decided to get back together. You read that correctly. Yes, we're batshit crazy. What were we thinking, blah blah blah. Well, for the record, we weren't. We finally had the conversation that I had been waiting for us to have for a long time. The conversation that would shed some light on what really went wrong in our marriage. The VH1 Behind The Music, E! True Hollywood Story account of what happened between us. The acceptance of each other's faults, the apologies for the mistakes we made, and the realization that deep down, there may have still been some love left in our hearts. We sat on a bench in the middle of a bustling downtown square, held each other, and cried it out. He smoothed my hair, kissed my cheek, and I became putty in his hands all over again. All kinds of warning signs, red flags, and foghorns were trying to keep me from making yet another stupid mistake, but I just kept driving down this crazy, winding road of bliss and confusion. Before we parted that day, we concluded that we should try to actually date and get to know each other all over again, something that we should have done 4 years ago. For the two months that followed, there were lunches and coffee dates, flirting and smiling and jellowy leg feelings. That fiery passion, that electricity we had felt from the moment we were in the same room with each other, remained. He seemed so much more mature, and I really felt as though he and I had both come out of our divorce as better people. Everything was wonderful for about 2 and 1/2 months (standard honeymoon phase time frame). A few things happened that brought me back to reality. It became apparent to me that he hadn't changed much at all in certain ways. He is who he is, and no amount of time will change him into the person I want him to be. I subconsciously became withdrawn, I communicated with him less, lost that burning desire to be next to him, but I was too much of a coward and harbored too much guilt about those feelings to come right out and tell him what was on my mind. I also had, and still do have, so much I need to take care of on my own, just little things like getting a job and trying to plan out the rest of my life.
His work schedule became quite hectic around the same time I began to change my mind about our future together. Communication diminished even more, and it got to a point where we didn't talk at all for a week. No plans were made to spend time together as a family or even with just him and the kids. I finally broke the silence and got the impression he had moved on from me. Not necessarily with another woman, but just moved on from our relationship without there being a discussion about it. In a way, I suppose I had, too. Now we're back to where we were 6 months ago: Him spending weekends with one or both kids and me trying to get over this relationship again. Even though I'm certain we're not right for each other, there's still a lingering ache that I don't know how to subdue. The way things have ended so suddenly, twice now, keeps messing with my head. Have we just been in lust this whole time? I was so sure that I truly loved him and that the feeling was basically mutual. Is this how it happens? Does love begin and end like a blow to the head? It's hard for me to come to terms with the notion that he never really loved me at all, that maybe he just loved my sense of humor or my other quirky personality traits, and didn't love all of who I am. When we were married and together, I know with all of my heart that I loved him for who he was. This time around, I think I got caught up in a whirlwind of lust and a selfish need to feel like I meant something to someone again. It's not my place to say or even hypothesize what he was thinking when he asked if I wanted to go for a walk with him the day we left divorce court. All I know is, we've never fought to be with each other. When one of us becomes distant, the other doesn't fight to become closer. There's just this mutual acceptance of the situation.
I take full responsibility for my mistakes, but this is how I learn: Royally fucking something up, feeling devastated, hating myself, watching old movies, and eating ice cream. Then I'm all better a few days later. One day, hopefully sooner than later, I'll break the self-pity cycle. In the meantime, I have officially sworn off dating until I totally have a grip on what I'm doing with the rest of my life. When I say dating, I mean all aspects of dating. Nothing physical or emotional or a combination of both. No more self destructive behavior, no more crying over something that was obviously never meant to be in the first place, no more ice cre-.........well, let's not push it. After a full year of this relationship being in an odd form of limbo, it's over for good. Seriously. I'm not kidding. Never again. Fat lady sang, Randy Jackson said "Hey yo, that was dope, dog!" The end. Fin.
Now, where did I leave my confidence..... I think it's somewhere near the happiness, but I can't find that either. Then again, it's always in the last place you looked.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Reminder: You're Not Out of the Woods Just Yet
It's been awhile since I've written, mostly due to not having much inspiration. Lots of stuff has happened since....January....but many of the "incidents" have been isolated. More at 11.
As most of us know, there are several stages of grief in reference to death of a loved one. Maybe I'm just a naturally born rebel, but I didn't necessarily flow through tiered "stages" (I LOVE quotation marks. I also may have ADD. More at 11.). I was just sad. Maybe a little angry, but mostly sad. I miss him so much it hurts. However, he was fighting a war against his own body which there was no chance of winning. I've accepted that he's finally at peace and I know he's always with me.
His presence is justified when super coincidental things happen. Like a few weeks ago, I was thinking about my dad while I was driving and I started to tear up a little bit. I had the radio on, and the timeless classic, "E.I." by Nelly started playing. Let me tell you a little something about Freddy Crittela: He thought that rapping was hilarious. As soon as he learned like 3 lines to any rap song, he would repeat them over and over, while bopping his head to a rhythm not found in any musical selection. This song in particular, was one of his favorites. His "go to" line was, "I'm a sucker for corn rows and manicured toes. Fendi capri pants and Parasucos (<---my dad would actually say, "parachute clothes". Wtf are parachute clothes??)". Then he would "dance" until the chorus. "Andele, andele, mami. E I E I, uh ohhhhhhhh. What's poppin' tonight?". He would have this huge, proud grin on his face like, "Yeah, that's right. I can relate to black people." When he would perform this masterpiece while working in the kitchen, the black guys hew worked with would (thankfully) crack up. Anyway, when the song came on that day in the car, I immediately started laughing. So then I had the crying/laughing look on my face which I'm sure the other people at the stop light thought was incredibly attractive.
I'm totally sidetracking from what I wanted to write about originally. This is MY blog though, right? I can do what I want. I'll make this flow....somehow.
One of the coolest (and most painful) things about life is that there's always something there to remind us.
It's ok, I just did the "Ba da da da da" sound in my head, too.
In terms of broken relationships, little reminders of the past pop up unexpectedly at any given time and can completely throw us out of whack.
What the fuck, you know here I am, doing ok, got my career a flowin', kids are good, family's good, then POW!!!! And all I did was open my internet browser. Yahoo! is my homepage, although it very well could be replaced soon, and I occasionally peruse through some of the featured articles, which are usually ridiculous. On this particular day, I came across one article entitled, "When It's Just Another Fight, and When It's Over", taken from The Wall Street Journal. I thought to myself, "That's a respectable periodical. Let's see if I really knew when my marriage was over. Haha."
Well a few minutes later, there was no more "haha". I was full out sobbing. If you'd like to read it, here's the link: http://finance.yahoo.com/news/just-another-fight-over-040100241.html
The gist of the article is basically asking the reader to seriously consider if divorce is really the only option. It encourages trying counseling first and takes you along the journey of one couple who divorced suddenly but later on in life ended up working together and still do to this day. They even wrote a book together.
I can't pinpoint what the trigger was that made me upset. Maybe we should have done something else? Should we have tried counseling? Would we both have showed up to go to counseling? I went from feeling confident and happy to feeling like I didn't have the answers anymore. I feel like I still don't have closure on exactly why he strayed, or why he begged to stay when I told him to leave or how we went from being totally crazy about each other to sleeping in separate places over the course of three years.
Then, every little thing reminded me of him and our relationship. In one day, no joke, I heard the song we walked down the aisle to (I'm Yours by Jason Mraz), the song we had our first dance to (Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones) and Story of My Life by Social Distortion, a song from the Social D playlist we listened to while we cleaned our old apartment. Three very different songs, all heard in various places. Grocery store, Michael's, and satellite radio, to be specific. It doesn't stop with just music either. This is going to sound so ridick and it's a total stretch, but even when I see lobsters at the grocery store, I think of my 26th birthday, when he made me this amazing seafood dinner with all my favorite delicious undersea creatures.
He introduced me to things I otherwise would not have cared about. Irish music, for example, I probably never would have given a chance, but he had me listening to The Pogues, Flogging Molly and The Dropkick Murphys, all of whom I now love. Sriracha, the greatest hot sauce EVER, would not be a permanent staple in my fridge had he never put it on my eggs. I miss the look on his face when I would cook something that came out really well. I miss our chemistry. I miss the way we laughed together. I miss the way he would look at me before he kissed me.
Does it ever get any easier? Or maybe it was meant to be all along and life just got in the way? There's no instruction manual to refer to, so how the hell are we supposed to know what we're doing?
All of life's questions are answered in songs from the 80's.
As most of us know, there are several stages of grief in reference to death of a loved one. Maybe I'm just a naturally born rebel, but I didn't necessarily flow through tiered "stages" (I LOVE quotation marks. I also may have ADD. More at 11.). I was just sad. Maybe a little angry, but mostly sad. I miss him so much it hurts. However, he was fighting a war against his own body which there was no chance of winning. I've accepted that he's finally at peace and I know he's always with me.
His presence is justified when super coincidental things happen. Like a few weeks ago, I was thinking about my dad while I was driving and I started to tear up a little bit. I had the radio on, and the timeless classic, "E.I." by Nelly started playing. Let me tell you a little something about Freddy Crittela: He thought that rapping was hilarious. As soon as he learned like 3 lines to any rap song, he would repeat them over and over, while bopping his head to a rhythm not found in any musical selection. This song in particular, was one of his favorites. His "go to" line was, "I'm a sucker for corn rows and manicured toes. Fendi capri pants and Parasucos (<---my dad would actually say, "parachute clothes". Wtf are parachute clothes??)". Then he would "dance" until the chorus. "Andele, andele, mami. E I E I, uh ohhhhhhhh. What's poppin' tonight?". He would have this huge, proud grin on his face like, "Yeah, that's right. I can relate to black people." When he would perform this masterpiece while working in the kitchen, the black guys hew worked with would (thankfully) crack up. Anyway, when the song came on that day in the car, I immediately started laughing. So then I had the crying/laughing look on my face which I'm sure the other people at the stop light thought was incredibly attractive.
I'm totally sidetracking from what I wanted to write about originally. This is MY blog though, right? I can do what I want. I'll make this flow....somehow.
One of the coolest (and most painful) things about life is that there's always something there to remind us.
It's ok, I just did the "Ba da da da da" sound in my head, too.
In terms of broken relationships, little reminders of the past pop up unexpectedly at any given time and can completely throw us out of whack.
What the fuck, you know here I am, doing ok, got my career a flowin', kids are good, family's good, then POW!!!! And all I did was open my internet browser. Yahoo! is my homepage, although it very well could be replaced soon, and I occasionally peruse through some of the featured articles, which are usually ridiculous. On this particular day, I came across one article entitled, "When It's Just Another Fight, and When It's Over", taken from The Wall Street Journal. I thought to myself, "That's a respectable periodical. Let's see if I really knew when my marriage was over. Haha."
Well a few minutes later, there was no more "haha". I was full out sobbing. If you'd like to read it, here's the link: http://finance.yahoo.com/news/just-another-fight-over-040100241.html
The gist of the article is basically asking the reader to seriously consider if divorce is really the only option. It encourages trying counseling first and takes you along the journey of one couple who divorced suddenly but later on in life ended up working together and still do to this day. They even wrote a book together.
I can't pinpoint what the trigger was that made me upset. Maybe we should have done something else? Should we have tried counseling? Would we both have showed up to go to counseling? I went from feeling confident and happy to feeling like I didn't have the answers anymore. I feel like I still don't have closure on exactly why he strayed, or why he begged to stay when I told him to leave or how we went from being totally crazy about each other to sleeping in separate places over the course of three years.
Then, every little thing reminded me of him and our relationship. In one day, no joke, I heard the song we walked down the aisle to (I'm Yours by Jason Mraz), the song we had our first dance to (Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones) and Story of My Life by Social Distortion, a song from the Social D playlist we listened to while we cleaned our old apartment. Three very different songs, all heard in various places. Grocery store, Michael's, and satellite radio, to be specific. It doesn't stop with just music either. This is going to sound so ridick and it's a total stretch, but even when I see lobsters at the grocery store, I think of my 26th birthday, when he made me this amazing seafood dinner with all my favorite delicious undersea creatures.
He introduced me to things I otherwise would not have cared about. Irish music, for example, I probably never would have given a chance, but he had me listening to The Pogues, Flogging Molly and The Dropkick Murphys, all of whom I now love. Sriracha, the greatest hot sauce EVER, would not be a permanent staple in my fridge had he never put it on my eggs. I miss the look on his face when I would cook something that came out really well. I miss our chemistry. I miss the way we laughed together. I miss the way he would look at me before he kissed me.
Does it ever get any easier? Or maybe it was meant to be all along and life just got in the way? There's no instruction manual to refer to, so how the hell are we supposed to know what we're doing?
All of life's questions are answered in songs from the 80's.
Dating: It's For The Birds
*I wrote this a few months ago, but never published it. Why do I do the things that I do? Enjoy!*
Dating is a nightmare. Seriously. Fuck. That. Shit. I don't know what I was thinking by even trying to date. So I had a date with this guy whom I did not know personally, but we had several mutual friends (Thank you, Facebook). I couldn't get a baby-sitter to save my life when we were both free, so he suggested we make some dinner at my house together and watch a movie after. Sounds cute, right?
WRONG.
Dinner was ok except that it involved some very spicy jalapenos which made him sweat profusely and gave me some kickin' heartburn. Then there was the conversation. All about him, him, him, and how much he knew about, um, everything, and how little I knew. Ooooooook. So I try to chalk that up to him being a little nervous and maybe the sweat was distracting him from having a normal conversation. Who knows.
Then there was the movie.
It was a John Cusack movie.....he plays an air traffic controller......Billy Bob Thornton and Angelina are in it too....... point is, I'd never seen it.
He talked through.....
The. Entire. Movie.
If you are one of these people, please excuse my bluntness when I say, it's fucking annoying. STOP IT.
Anyway, at one point I started keeping track: On an average of about every 8 seconds, he opened his mouth. And it wasn't like he was saying something intelligent. He was basically providing his own commentary on the movie itself. He was his own Special Feature!!
I thought for a sec what my Dad would have done. My dad would have pressed the stop button on the dvd player, looked him square in the eye and said something like, "That movie was being so rude. Please continue the play by plays. Your perspective is so much more interesting."
Somehow I made it through the movie without punching him in the face. I was totally ready for him to get off my couch, but then he decided to talk at me for another hour or so. When he was about to leave, he tried to give me the most awkward kiss in awkward kiss history. It was at that moment when I thought about giving up men for good.
After he left, I gave myself a pep talk. Ok, so maaaaaaaybe he was just really nervous and he thought he had to talk himself up a lot because he was intimidated by me? Aw what the hell? I'll give him a second chance. It can only get better from here, right?
Wrong again!!!
Bad Date: Take Two:
I whip up a little snacky snack and he brings over another movie, one that I have seen before but not in a long time. Total repeat of Bad Date One. Talking throughout the movie, overstays his welcome, but this time, I realize that he's not just nervous or intimidated by me. He's a damn know-it-all. Here's how I figured it out:
After the movie, he again decides to talk AT me for about an hour. We somehow get on the subject of skin, which is kinda my thing. I know I'm not a dermatologist or even a nurse, but I didn't go to school for 6 months for nothing. He starts in on sunscreen, which I'm a little anal retentive about wearing. He tells me that sunscreen is pointless, that it does absolutely nothing, and is basically, a big conspiracy.
Uh.....exsqueeze me? Bacon powder?
So I, very calmly, begin to explain what the ingredients in sunscreen do to protect the skin and I'm completely certain that years upon years of research prove otherwise.
Well, clearly, I know absolutely nothing because he knows everything and fuck this!!
No awkward kiss this time. I created an imaginary forcefield around myself that repelled arrogant pricks. Later on, I told him that I reeeeaaaaaalllllllly just wasn't ready for a commitment yet. Or maybe ever.
Bad dates are so disappointing. I went in to them with all these expectations and positivity and 9/10 times, I realized that I am soooooo normal compared to some of the freaks that we share a community with.
Good luck, Singles. You'll need it.
Dating is a nightmare. Seriously. Fuck. That. Shit. I don't know what I was thinking by even trying to date. So I had a date with this guy whom I did not know personally, but we had several mutual friends (Thank you, Facebook). I couldn't get a baby-sitter to save my life when we were both free, so he suggested we make some dinner at my house together and watch a movie after. Sounds cute, right?
WRONG.
Dinner was ok except that it involved some very spicy jalapenos which made him sweat profusely and gave me some kickin' heartburn. Then there was the conversation. All about him, him, him, and how much he knew about, um, everything, and how little I knew. Ooooooook. So I try to chalk that up to him being a little nervous and maybe the sweat was distracting him from having a normal conversation. Who knows.
Then there was the movie.
It was a John Cusack movie.....he plays an air traffic controller......Billy Bob Thornton and Angelina are in it too....... point is, I'd never seen it.
He talked through.....
The. Entire. Movie.
If you are one of these people, please excuse my bluntness when I say, it's fucking annoying. STOP IT.
Anyway, at one point I started keeping track: On an average of about every 8 seconds, he opened his mouth. And it wasn't like he was saying something intelligent. He was basically providing his own commentary on the movie itself. He was his own Special Feature!!
I thought for a sec what my Dad would have done. My dad would have pressed the stop button on the dvd player, looked him square in the eye and said something like, "That movie was being so rude. Please continue the play by plays. Your perspective is so much more interesting."
Somehow I made it through the movie without punching him in the face. I was totally ready for him to get off my couch, but then he decided to talk at me for another hour or so. When he was about to leave, he tried to give me the most awkward kiss in awkward kiss history. It was at that moment when I thought about giving up men for good.
After he left, I gave myself a pep talk. Ok, so maaaaaaaybe he was just really nervous and he thought he had to talk himself up a lot because he was intimidated by me? Aw what the hell? I'll give him a second chance. It can only get better from here, right?
Wrong again!!!
Bad Date: Take Two:
I whip up a little snacky snack and he brings over another movie, one that I have seen before but not in a long time. Total repeat of Bad Date One. Talking throughout the movie, overstays his welcome, but this time, I realize that he's not just nervous or intimidated by me. He's a damn know-it-all. Here's how I figured it out:
After the movie, he again decides to talk AT me for about an hour. We somehow get on the subject of skin, which is kinda my thing. I know I'm not a dermatologist or even a nurse, but I didn't go to school for 6 months for nothing. He starts in on sunscreen, which I'm a little anal retentive about wearing. He tells me that sunscreen is pointless, that it does absolutely nothing, and is basically, a big conspiracy.
Uh.....exsqueeze me? Bacon powder?
So I, very calmly, begin to explain what the ingredients in sunscreen do to protect the skin and I'm completely certain that years upon years of research prove otherwise.
Well, clearly, I know absolutely nothing because he knows everything and fuck this!!
No awkward kiss this time. I created an imaginary forcefield around myself that repelled arrogant pricks. Later on, I told him that I reeeeaaaaaalllllllly just wasn't ready for a commitment yet. Or maybe ever.
Bad dates are so disappointing. I went in to them with all these expectations and positivity and 9/10 times, I realized that I am soooooo normal compared to some of the freaks that we share a community with.
Good luck, Singles. You'll need it.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Happiness. In the form of a blog.
What the hell happened?
I feel like I took a deep breath, exhaled, and then all of sudden........
I'm happy.
I mean legitimately happy. I don't think I've been legitimately happy since before I started shaving my legs (and I think I was around 9? Maybe 10. I'm Italian.)
Picture this: A rhinoceros is sitting on top of your back for yeeeeaaaars, and every day you try to crawl out from underneath this rhino's ass. You're scratching and clawing at the earth, trying to pull yourself away from Mr. Rhinoceros to go see a chiropractor. Sometimes you think you're almost out, but then he shifts his weight, and you're stuck again. That was what my 20's felt like.
Right after New Year's Eve, I started to feel better, and like I was getting somewhere. I FINALLY graduated school on January 5th. This is huge for me. I know, I didn't graduate from Harvard or Yale, or even a state school, but I'm not one who completes things. I can barely finish a book. I graduated high school by the skin of my teeth. As much as I love to learn new things, I do get bored rather quickly. This is something I cannot change.
Anyway, I spent a lot of time in December really hating my ex. Really, really, REALLY HATING my ex. I'm not proud of the things I wished on him. I'm sure he wished some heinous things on me, too. I'm sure he would have been pleased if I failed miserably and didn't graduate school or lost all my friends or got chlamydia. I also spent a lot of time plotting revenge on a "friend" who repeatedly stabbed me in the back by running right to my ex and telling him secrets I had shared with her. If she thinks I didn't figure out that it was her, she is sadly mistaken, because.....I did. I forgive, but I sure as hell don't forget.
Well.....this time, I am going to forget. I wasted so much time sitting around and wondering how someone could turn on me that way. I racked my brain trying to figure out what I had done to this girl to warrant being stabbed in the back. It was making me crazy. I almost lost some real friends because I became so obsessed with trying to figure out the backstabber's identity and her cause. Regardless, I'm going to leave all that hate and anger in 2011, where it belongs. Hatred is a burden. It uses up a lot of energy that could be put forth to something good and worthwhile. I used to think that letting things go was a sign of weakness or lack of pride in oneself. On more than one occasion, I've heard both of my parents say, "Kill 'em with kindness." I used to say that over and over in my head while waiting on douchebags when I worked in a restaurant, but that phrase can be applied to most situations. I don't know about you, but I'd rather be kind and happy than spiteful and miserable. Not to say that I won't stand up for myself when necessary. Homie don't play that.
Letting all of that go has brought me to a better place. I have this very zen feeling of calmness now. Is this how yogis feel? It's all new to me. I recently reflected on times when I thought I was happy, but I was lying to myself. I only thought I was happy. Or maybe I just tricked myself into feeling that way because if I hadn't, the other option was complete and utter depression. Now, I feel as though depression is not an option. I won't let it be one. I don't have time to be depressed, there's just too much to do. The crazy thing is, I'm not done trying to make myself happier. I still have a weight loss goal that I WILL get to, even if Jillian Michaels kills me during the process. More on that later.
How did I really get to be sublimely happy?
Step 1. Get divorced.
I'm kidding!! Come on, that was funny! Ok, let me put my serious face on.
I did something for myself that was realistic and something that I enjoyed. Hopefully, it will make me some money too (Esthetician school). I wrote down my goals. I write everything down. Visuals help me. I've been chastised for this, but fuck the haters, it works for me.
I also got real with myself. I forgave myself for getting married too quickly. I forgave myself for consistently getting involved with guys that weren't right for me, especially when I knew better. I forgave myself for trusting someone that I didn't know very well, and letting them in on personal details of my life. I stopped saying, "Woe as me!". Ok well, I didn't actually say that verbatim, but I stopped feeling sorry for myself and being so angry about the hand I'd been dealt. It's a waste of time.
Finally, I realized something: I was damn lucky. Not to brag, but my mom and step-dad, and my friends, have had my back the entire time. Holy Shit. What would I have done if I didn't have these guys around? What would I have done if my mom and step-dad hadn't financially supported me so I could go to school? I am a lucky bitch. There's nothing I can do to repay them. Nothing. I will appreciate what the people in my life have done for me every day until I'm dead. And if I kick the bucket first, my ghostly ass will be flying around them 24/7 saying, "No really, I still appreciate you even though I'm transparent now."
The best part of my new found happiness is that I can literally feel my dad's energy all around me now. It's the strangest, and coolest thing. Being stuck in a bullshit fog for so long prevented me from noticing it. If you didn't know my dad, I feel sorry for you. My dad was special. He could make you feel like a million bucks just in the way he said hello. He had this presence about him that could light up whatever room he walked into. Even after his death, that presence still exists.
I faced a lot to get to where I am right now. Sometimes, I'm afraid the other shoe is going to drop, and something really bad is going to shoot me down off my little cloud of happiness. It's Murphy's Law. But after everything I've been through, I've learned that regardless of what happens, there's always something awesome right around the corner. It might even be a rhinoceros.
I feel like I took a deep breath, exhaled, and then all of sudden........
I'm happy.
I mean legitimately happy. I don't think I've been legitimately happy since before I started shaving my legs (and I think I was around 9? Maybe 10. I'm Italian.)
Picture this: A rhinoceros is sitting on top of your back for yeeeeaaaars, and every day you try to crawl out from underneath this rhino's ass. You're scratching and clawing at the earth, trying to pull yourself away from Mr. Rhinoceros to go see a chiropractor. Sometimes you think you're almost out, but then he shifts his weight, and you're stuck again. That was what my 20's felt like.
Right after New Year's Eve, I started to feel better, and like I was getting somewhere. I FINALLY graduated school on January 5th. This is huge for me. I know, I didn't graduate from Harvard or Yale, or even a state school, but I'm not one who completes things. I can barely finish a book. I graduated high school by the skin of my teeth. As much as I love to learn new things, I do get bored rather quickly. This is something I cannot change.
Anyway, I spent a lot of time in December really hating my ex. Really, really, REALLY HATING my ex. I'm not proud of the things I wished on him. I'm sure he wished some heinous things on me, too. I'm sure he would have been pleased if I failed miserably and didn't graduate school or lost all my friends or got chlamydia. I also spent a lot of time plotting revenge on a "friend" who repeatedly stabbed me in the back by running right to my ex and telling him secrets I had shared with her. If she thinks I didn't figure out that it was her, she is sadly mistaken, because.....I did. I forgive, but I sure as hell don't forget.
Well.....this time, I am going to forget. I wasted so much time sitting around and wondering how someone could turn on me that way. I racked my brain trying to figure out what I had done to this girl to warrant being stabbed in the back. It was making me crazy. I almost lost some real friends because I became so obsessed with trying to figure out the backstabber's identity and her cause. Regardless, I'm going to leave all that hate and anger in 2011, where it belongs. Hatred is a burden. It uses up a lot of energy that could be put forth to something good and worthwhile. I used to think that letting things go was a sign of weakness or lack of pride in oneself. On more than one occasion, I've heard both of my parents say, "Kill 'em with kindness." I used to say that over and over in my head while waiting on douchebags when I worked in a restaurant, but that phrase can be applied to most situations. I don't know about you, but I'd rather be kind and happy than spiteful and miserable. Not to say that I won't stand up for myself when necessary. Homie don't play that.
Letting all of that go has brought me to a better place. I have this very zen feeling of calmness now. Is this how yogis feel? It's all new to me. I recently reflected on times when I thought I was happy, but I was lying to myself. I only thought I was happy. Or maybe I just tricked myself into feeling that way because if I hadn't, the other option was complete and utter depression. Now, I feel as though depression is not an option. I won't let it be one. I don't have time to be depressed, there's just too much to do. The crazy thing is, I'm not done trying to make myself happier. I still have a weight loss goal that I WILL get to, even if Jillian Michaels kills me during the process. More on that later.
How did I really get to be sublimely happy?
Step 1. Get divorced.
I'm kidding!! Come on, that was funny! Ok, let me put my serious face on.
I did something for myself that was realistic and something that I enjoyed. Hopefully, it will make me some money too (Esthetician school). I wrote down my goals. I write everything down. Visuals help me. I've been chastised for this, but fuck the haters, it works for me.
I also got real with myself. I forgave myself for getting married too quickly. I forgave myself for consistently getting involved with guys that weren't right for me, especially when I knew better. I forgave myself for trusting someone that I didn't know very well, and letting them in on personal details of my life. I stopped saying, "Woe as me!". Ok well, I didn't actually say that verbatim, but I stopped feeling sorry for myself and being so angry about the hand I'd been dealt. It's a waste of time.
Finally, I realized something: I was damn lucky. Not to brag, but my mom and step-dad, and my friends, have had my back the entire time. Holy Shit. What would I have done if I didn't have these guys around? What would I have done if my mom and step-dad hadn't financially supported me so I could go to school? I am a lucky bitch. There's nothing I can do to repay them. Nothing. I will appreciate what the people in my life have done for me every day until I'm dead. And if I kick the bucket first, my ghostly ass will be flying around them 24/7 saying, "No really, I still appreciate you even though I'm transparent now."
The best part of my new found happiness is that I can literally feel my dad's energy all around me now. It's the strangest, and coolest thing. Being stuck in a bullshit fog for so long prevented me from noticing it. If you didn't know my dad, I feel sorry for you. My dad was special. He could make you feel like a million bucks just in the way he said hello. He had this presence about him that could light up whatever room he walked into. Even after his death, that presence still exists.
I faced a lot to get to where I am right now. Sometimes, I'm afraid the other shoe is going to drop, and something really bad is going to shoot me down off my little cloud of happiness. It's Murphy's Law. But after everything I've been through, I've learned that regardless of what happens, there's always something awesome right around the corner. It might even be a rhinoceros.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Lessons.......I've Learned a Few........Maybe More Than a Few
"The hottest love has the coldest end."
Damn, Socrates, you were ahead of your time. The following entry consists of the lessons I've learned since 2008, in no particular order.
Damn, Socrates, you were ahead of your time. The following entry consists of the lessons I've learned since 2008, in no particular order.
- My children's feelings will always come first. They're the ones that have to put me in the nice nursing home someday.
- I need to surround myself with positivity because I easily absorb negative energy if it's within a 30 foot radius. The people who bring out the best in me are the ones that I need to keep in my secret inner circle of fabulousness.
- I found out who my true friends were and I will never put them on the back burner again, regardless of how crazy life gets.
- I will never ever EVER lose my sense of self in a relationship again nor will I keep my mouth shut when I strongly disagree with something.
- I will never let myself get too comfy in a relationship again, whereas I completely stop taking care of myself. As a romantic at heart, I wish I could say that the right man will love you and still find you attractive if you consistently wear your SU Basketball t-shirt and sweatpants every day, gain 50 lbs, and eat a bag of Doritos in front of the tv, but that is simply not that case. He may not necessarily run out and cheat on you, but there's a good chance he's not going to race you to the bedroom. Reality is, not even my seductive charm and quick wit will win someone over if my hair is not done. It's sad, but that is reality. You don't want to get to a point where Kesha in a garbage bag looks like a supermodel compared to you. Not to mention, there will ALWAYS be someone to impress, even if you are in a committed relationship: Employers, clients, cops who try to give you a speeding ticket, the list goes on...
- I am not capable of loving anyone else until I can look at myself in the mirror and say, "You......are the shit." And mean it. I have to be
100% happy97% happyat least 95% happy with myself and my position in life before I can contribute to a partnership with another person. This works both ways. I cannot commit to someone who isn't happy with himself either.
- I can't be with someone who doesn't respect me or my feelings because they simply don't understand why I feel the way I do.
- I will admit when I'm wrong (I sure will try!) and follow suit with an apology. And I'm not going to allow myself to always be wrong. My future boyfriend should also have some sweet apology skills, too. Being self-righteous is incredibly unattractive.
- I have to trust my gut instinct. My best friend has scolded me about this on more than one occasion. She's wicked bossy, thank God. If it doesn't truly feel right, it probably isn't. I will never be blinded by infatuation again.
- I need my partner to have my back and be there for me when things get rough. I can handle a lot of tough stuff on my own (because I'm a badass mofo), but having that special person's arms around you, telling you that everything is going to be alright......is priceless. Sometimes, that's all I need to hear, and sometimes, I just need a fucking hug (even though I am still a badass). I also need my future someone to be supportive when things are going really well! You know, like when I'm famous someday! (Don't roll your eyes at me......it could happen....)
So there you go. One marriage, many lessons.
With all that I've been through, I'm here to tell you that marriage itself, is not a huge mistake. I'm fairly certain that marriage can be wonderful with the right person.
"But Jen, how do I know if it's the right person?"
Whoa whoa whoa....I'm not a therapist!
Seriously, from experience, I think that the test of time will give you, or me, the answer to that question. I believe you have to go through some heavy shit first before you get married. Loss, joy, moving across the country, moving into your mom's house, job promotions, unemployment, holidays with each others families, you get the idea. If you can survive a hurricane, a tsunami, and an earthquake together and still feel the way you did when you first met, therein lies the answer.
Marriage is not an institution. It's a beautiful idea. In a world full of shit, it should be the most romantic and meaningful idea left. It is not something that can be taken for granted nor should it be used as leverage toward an ultimatum. It is not selfish nor to be made a spectacle of (ahem, Kim Kardashian).
As the chapter in my life entitled, "My Twisted 20's", comes to a close this year, I can't help but be excited, yet apprehensive, of what's next on life's agenda. It's kind of funny, but I got a lot of milestones out of the way in my 20's. I had children. I got married. I lost a parent. I had to count out change to buy my family dinner (that's not a milestone, but at least I can look back and laugh at it...sort of). I got divorced. And I somehow did it all without medication or therapy, although it probably would have helped.
On New Year's Eve of 2011, I vowed to put everything behind me and start fresh with a different outlook on people, relationships, and life in general. I look forward to my new career and where it could take me. I want to be the best mom I can be to my kids because they're so deserving of it. Now that I've pretty much figured out who I am, I'm ready to accept my faults, and continue to grow from my mistakes......because I am bound to make several more. I want to give myself an entire year without dating to focus on my new life. Cheers, motherfuckers!!!
Of course, if I've learned anything at all, I should know by now that life doesn't always go as we plan it :). Stay tuned, kids.
"But Jen, how do I know if it's the right person?"
Whoa whoa whoa....I'm not a therapist!
Seriously, from experience, I think that the test of time will give you, or me, the answer to that question. I believe you have to go through some heavy shit first before you get married. Loss, joy, moving across the country, moving into your mom's house, job promotions, unemployment, holidays with each others families, you get the idea. If you can survive a hurricane, a tsunami, and an earthquake together and still feel the way you did when you first met, therein lies the answer.
Marriage is not an institution. It's a beautiful idea. In a world full of shit, it should be the most romantic and meaningful idea left. It is not something that can be taken for granted nor should it be used as leverage toward an ultimatum. It is not selfish nor to be made a spectacle of (ahem, Kim Kardashian).
As the chapter in my life entitled, "My Twisted 20's", comes to a close this year, I can't help but be excited, yet apprehensive, of what's next on life's agenda. It's kind of funny, but I got a lot of milestones out of the way in my 20's. I had children. I got married. I lost a parent. I had to count out change to buy my family dinner (that's not a milestone, but at least I can look back and laugh at it...sort of). I got divorced. And I somehow did it all without medication or therapy, although it probably would have helped.
On New Year's Eve of 2011, I vowed to put everything behind me and start fresh with a different outlook on people, relationships, and life in general. I look forward to my new career and where it could take me. I want to be the best mom I can be to my kids because they're so deserving of it. Now that I've pretty much figured out who I am, I'm ready to accept my faults, and continue to grow from my mistakes......because I am bound to make several more. I want to give myself an entire year without dating to focus on my new life. Cheers, motherfuckers!!!
(In order to really understand my excitement, please enjoy this Whitesnake video and also Tawny Kitaen's love affair with David Coverdale.....and his car.)
Of course, if I've learned anything at all, I should know by now that life doesn't always go as we plan it :). Stay tuned, kids.
Monday, January 2, 2012
The Means to an End
When my parents separated, it was probably the easiest thing they've ever done together. They came to a mutual agreement, they remained friends, everything was as cool as the other side of the pillow. Silly naive little me, I thought my husband and I could end things just as easily.
It started out that way. We sat down. We discussed. We eventually came to the agreement that things weren't working and that there was too much damage to repair through counseling or other means. We were not the same happy, euphoric people that couldn't wait to marry each other. It's hard to say whether or not we grew apart. We may have, but I think what it comes down to is that we didn't know each other well enough before we got married.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeew. There. I said it. Usually, I don't have a problem admitting when I'm wrong, but this is the one thing I never wanted to come to terms with. Three years ago, I was so sure that I was making the right decision. We had a spark, a connection, we totally clicked! It was a "There were birds....all around....but I never heard them singing......til there was you" kind of love. You could cut the passion between us with a knife, and I'm sure some people around us wanted to. We were the epitome of a dating success story. From the bottom of my heart, I meant every word I spoke during our wedding vows. I took marriage seriously because I hadn't found anyone worthy of that kind of love before. I should write a country song.....
So here we are, in the living room that's no longer "ours", avoiding eye contact, on the verge of tears, trying to to figure out how we got to the point we were at. That word..."divorce"....passed my lips, and my eyes welled up. Even though I knew when we separated that this was the inevitable next step, I couldn't believe it was really happening. Everything that the people who doubted us had predicted of our marriage was coming to fruition. We lightly touched upon the details of the children and money, but what I remember him so clearly saying was, "If I can't make it work with you, I don't think I can make it work with anyone." Hmmmm....yes, this is true.....
Just kidding. Not really. Ok, yes, really.
Moving on.
So initially, we were on the same track and it was nice while it lasted. Eventually though, things got nasty, as they usually do during a divorce. It took me by surprise and it was almost as if we hadn't known each at all. Again, my parents were an exception to the "bitter divorce" cliche. I guess I have to chalk it up to the fact that they're just awesome people who were realistic about their marriage and their futures. I'm not going to get in to the nitty gritty details of the nastiness of our divorce because that phase has passed, I hope, and I'd rather look ahead than behind. And after the year that I had, I really don't want to look at my behind. It's quite bigger than it used to be.
Now, Jennifer, what did we learn from this?
HA!!! Where do I begin!?
It started out that way. We sat down. We discussed. We eventually came to the agreement that things weren't working and that there was too much damage to repair through counseling or other means. We were not the same happy, euphoric people that couldn't wait to marry each other. It's hard to say whether or not we grew apart. We may have, but I think what it comes down to is that we didn't know each other well enough before we got married.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeew. There. I said it. Usually, I don't have a problem admitting when I'm wrong, but this is the one thing I never wanted to come to terms with. Three years ago, I was so sure that I was making the right decision. We had a spark, a connection, we totally clicked! It was a "There were birds....all around....but I never heard them singing......til there was you" kind of love. You could cut the passion between us with a knife, and I'm sure some people around us wanted to. We were the epitome of a dating success story. From the bottom of my heart, I meant every word I spoke during our wedding vows. I took marriage seriously because I hadn't found anyone worthy of that kind of love before. I should write a country song.....
So here we are, in the living room that's no longer "ours", avoiding eye contact, on the verge of tears, trying to to figure out how we got to the point we were at. That word..."divorce"....passed my lips, and my eyes welled up. Even though I knew when we separated that this was the inevitable next step, I couldn't believe it was really happening. Everything that the people who doubted us had predicted of our marriage was coming to fruition. We lightly touched upon the details of the children and money, but what I remember him so clearly saying was, "If I can't make it work with you, I don't think I can make it work with anyone." Hmmmm....yes, this is true.....
Just kidding. Not really. Ok, yes, really.
Moving on.
So initially, we were on the same track and it was nice while it lasted. Eventually though, things got nasty, as they usually do during a divorce. It took me by surprise and it was almost as if we hadn't known each at all. Again, my parents were an exception to the "bitter divorce" cliche. I guess I have to chalk it up to the fact that they're just awesome people who were realistic about their marriage and their futures. I'm not going to get in to the nitty gritty details of the nastiness of our divorce because that phase has passed, I hope, and I'd rather look ahead than behind. And after the year that I had, I really don't want to look at my behind. It's quite bigger than it used to be.
Now, Jennifer, what did we learn from this?
HA!!! Where do I begin!?
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