Hello again....

Wow.  So it's been almost a year.  I can hear the chorus: Where did she go??  Where's the funny stuff happening to her that I can relate to and giggle about?

 The truth is, sometimes love isn't so funny.  Sometimes, it leaves you with a wound that cuts so deep you're not sure you can go on.

But you do.  Because you have to.  Or maybe even because it's what you were born to do.

In the intervening 8 months or so since you and I last talked via this blog, I tried oh-so-hard to make it work with a guy.  I smiled at all the right times, I giggled, I dressed up, I shaved my legs...and when that didn't work, I cried and I cussed.  Oh man, did I cuss a lot.  There are sailors that could've learned a thing or two from me!  My apologies to this guy for that.  Also--that thing that I did where I totally embarrassed you?  Yeah...sorry for that too.  It was only once though, right?!  :)

Girls will understand this immediately...and I'm hoping that most of you guys will, too:  once in a lifetime, a person walks into your life and you feel drawn in.  Like a magnet, you get stuck to them.  It's immediate and definite and the pull of the moon couldn't take you away from him.  I found that guy.  And just as quickly as he came, it seemed he was gone, lost in another world with a woman who will just as likely get her heart broken.  I say that not out of jealousy or jest, but out of knowledge of facts that will go unspoken here as so to protect anonymity.

And now, Mr. Heartbreaker.....it's been six weeks since we've spoken or seen each other; we've never gone this long without finding our way back to each other.  I am relieved for that, for I find myself now reflecting on who I was when I was with you and who I have the potential to now become. It would be patently false to pretend that you haven't changed me, that you didn't affect every cell in my body and alter its constitution.  You took me to the moon and then you took me to hell and there is no use in denying that you changed the course of my life.  Perhaps for better, maybe for worse, but to try to move on and hide from evolution would be an exercise in insanity.

In the last six weeks, however, I have come to realize that I have an inner strength that you didn't affect.  I can do it--I can live the life I am meant to live, on my own.  Sure, you would've been a beautiful complement to it all had we survived our self-created failures...but as it is, there were critical missing parts that pre-empted our potential success.  The things that made you mad at me are the parts that make me me: I am fiesty and spicy and prone to a spontaneity that was outside what the reality of our relationship could endure.  I don't make my bed every morning and I leave an occasional dish in the sink.  In other words...I'm flawed, if you want to call it that.

I would prefer to remember us as having differences that were incompatible with each other.  Not for the little stuff like the dishes and the bed, but for the big stuff, like the way we each preferred to communicate and the way you chose to walk away when everything went pear-shaped...and not just once, but over and over again.  For me, trust is built by a continued presence through the hard times...for you, the hard times are made for disappearing from the reality of emotion and life. 

While I am still mourning the loss of a best friend who once knew me like no other, I also am working through making peace with all that has happened.  With time, the scar tissue that patches my heart will not be so bothersome; it may even serve to protect what was once torn, making it stronger and more resilient to injury. 

For when true love falls apart, there can be no salvaging the pieces...they merely melt away, dissolving far too quickly in salty teardrops and leave behind only thin gossamer threads of memories.  Those threads are stitches, sewing together a difficult past with a hopeful future.

A League of Their Own

My darling gal pal came over for dinner last night and some chick chat time.  It seems she's started seeing someone........or, more specifically, she's started dating her ex-boyfriend again.  After the initial <<gasp!>>...I started thinking about ex-boyfriends.  Why is it that some of them disappear into the abyss of Ex-BoyfriendLand and others linger in our lives?  And for those that linger, are we supposed to/allowed to go back?  Un-ex-boyfriend them?  Call them up from AAA, to use a baseball analogy?

If we are going to call them up from the farm team...what are the criteria? Sometimes, there are just too many injuries on the roster, there's a gap in the lineup or weak first baseman.  Once in awhile, you just need a Prince Fielder-type to come in and knock out a few home runs, give the team a morale boost....so to speak. 

Other times, though, we sent them down in order to teach a lesson....so calling them back up tells them that they're out of the proverbial doghouse with the team manager.  That, darling reader, is the most dangerous form of recall because we never really know if he's ready to take a solid place on the team or if he's just going to cause more fielding errors.  Is he ready for the big leagues?  

We can never really know for sure until we've given him a chance to show us what he's got.  So we take a risk, we put our hearts in the game because that's what life is about: showing up and trying.  The greatest risks can bear the greatest rewards.  But with ex-boyfriends, we keep our eyes open, watching, assessing, using the first few dates as a tryout while reserving judgment and guarding ourselves from injury.

But playing like that is dangerous--using too much caution and trying to avoid getting hurt can sometimes lead to a worse outcome.  We're so caught up in trying not to get hit with a pitch that we forget to swing for the fences.  It's a balancing act, to be sure.

Hopefully, in the case of my gal pal, Mr Wonderful has grown and improved his game while he was away....otherwise, he'll have to be left stranded at first base--literally and figuratively.

On Valentine's Day Eve...

'Tis the season of love: of hearts and sugary treats and flowers and naked winged babies named Cupid.  And like so many other holidays (Christmas, Halloween, etc), it's been worked over by the marketing magicians at Hallmark, Target, Wal-Mart, and other big-box retailers.  The aisles are lined with teddy bears, cheap chocolate, and scraggly flowers.  Ahhh...nothing says romance more than a stuffed animal that was mass produced in China by small children! 

But enough of my politics regarding overseas sweatshops.  On to more important things, like romance.

In asking my male friends what they are doing for their gals for this glorious "holiday"...I got a theme or variation of this line:

"Valentine's Day is such crap.  I'd rather do something for her some other day of the year that shows her how much I really love her, rather than spend too much on flowers just because it's Valentine's Day."

Awwww!  Isn't that sweet!?  It's so sweet that I just threw up a little in my mouth.  I keep on wanting to ask, "So, when was the last time you did that, then?" but I don't want to come off as cynical.  Or at least more cynical than I already seem.

The thing is, I'm really not a cynic!  I believe in love and fairytales and happily-ever-afters.  What Cinderella forgot to really teach us is that those happy endings take WORK.  The sun doesn't shine every single day in this magical land of roses and hearts--sometimes, it rains in the form of arguments, disagreements, and tears.  And when you get to kiss and make up....well, that's when the non-Disney-friendly fun starts!  (wink!)

In the midst of all of this--the good times and the bad, the ups and the downs, the fat days, the sick days, the fairytale dates and walks in the park under the moonlight--we get to know our partners very well.  And this, my friends, is where the real romance lies.

I can almost guarantee she doesn't want a teddy (either the bear or the lingerie).  What she wants is something *meaningful*--a memory, a shared moment, a look that conveys so much.  It can be so easy--a set of his/hers coffee mugs with a note about how much you want to wake up on Sunday and have coffee in bed while reading the paper.  Or take her for a drive back to where you two met or where you proposed and have a simple lunch and talk about that special day.  Girls want to feel connected to their partners--to know that what we value inside our hearts and the memories we have don't simply exist in the mental scrapbook we keep.  We want something that says, "I get you.  I understand you.  I know your heart."

That, dear reader, is love.

Dating Darwinism

A potential suitor once told me that I should "kick those other guys to the curb" and go out with him.  I responded by telling him that those guys were kicking themselves to the curb...and it made me think: sometimes, problems just take care of themselves.  Kind of like Darwinism.


Dating Darwinism can take all forms: a bad pickup line in a bar, repeated instances of foot-in-mouth disease, poor manners, or a failure to embrace common forms of hygiene.

My most recent example: wearing a wedding ring and flirting with girls (me) in front of the wife.  "Hey, can I get a picture with you and your friend here?  You girls are just so cute!  Saw you from across the bar!"  Uhhh...what??

 Now, before you go off on me for being too tough on guys, I want it noted for the record that I often give too many guys too many chances to redeem themselves.  Remember Mr. Chicago?  That whole thing evolved over three weeks!  He just never quite got it together....hence, dating Darwinism.

A girl friend of mine had a dating Darwinism moment of her own.  The fella took her to a movie for their date.  He seemed nice enough and she was having a good time.  The movie, a comedy, became even more hilarious when the date began loudly laughing at non-funny moments in the movie.  He would also point at the screen and elbow her, as if to say, "See!?  That sh*t is funny!" which it was not, as evidenced by the fact that he was the only one laughing.  Oh--and his laugh??  Think of a donkey's bray...combined with the snuffling and snorting of a pig.  Not exactly subtle...or attractive for that matter.  Bless him...he makes us laugh every time we remember him!

So what are your dating Darwinism moments?  Do you laugh them off or do they catch you shaking your head in wonderment?  And guys...don't think I'm picking on you...girls can be their own worst enemy too!

Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Idiots

It should go without saying that you don't kiss & tell.  Especially at our age, dear reader.  (This is, of course, assuming that you're within my demographic: 30-something, bi-ped,  and with the ability to appropriately wield a razor as so to appear human.)

Evidently, some folks need to be reminded of that lesson.  Take, for example, my ex-boyfriend, "Todd."  And my friend, "Joe," who has been pursuing a date with me.  Todd and I broke up back in early January after an arduous year+ of on-again, off-again dating.  In the course of that relationship, I told him personal things--exposed my inner self, if you will....the sort of details that you tell your partner, expecting that even if the relationship ends, these things will just always remain between the two of you.  

Either that rule changed and I'm just old-school, or Todd has some serious learning to do about how you treat ex-girlfriends.

Yesterday, Todd took it upon himself to call up Joe and "have a beer."  Now, I know I'm a girl, but I also know that "having a beer" is a 21st century male bonding ritual akin to a 19th century quilting bee for ladies.  Gossip and all.

Joe agreed to meet for a beer and so they found themselves at a local establishment, talking boy talk, when Todd decides to bring up my name and then divulge those aforementioned secrets that should have been buried along with our now-deceased relationship.

• "Did you know she has an eating disorder because she was chubby in high school?"
• "Did you know that she's not friends with that one girl because they fought over a guy?"
• "Did you know she slept with so-and-so?"
• "Did you know she's a pod person?"  (okay, I made this one up)

..and so on.  To his credit (?!), Joe didn't encourage this locker room talk, but he didn't stop it either or remind Todd that talking about a girl that the other party has dated is a bad idea for everyone.  Nor was Joe interested in fact-checking the above rumors with me; rather, he was just plum-proud of himself for not saying anything nasty about me in agreement with Todd.  He just couldn't understand why I was so upset ("tweaked out" was the phrase he applied)....

Gentlemen, the rule is this: Life is not a locker room.  You do not get to go around farting, scratching, belching, or relaying stories of your conquests.

We are, after all, 30-something.