tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88455152619738224112024-02-08T04:49:33.726-05:00Nothing Less than ButterfliesUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-26929191181593514632010-11-26T21:56:00.002-05:002010-11-26T22:00:22.407-05:00found.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">i have always maintained that i would never settle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i have been lucky enough to surround myself in love and loving couples my whole life - first with my beautiful parents who taught me that long lasting love and respect is possible...and in later years, with couples who value and adore each other beyond my wildest dreams. it has been both an incredible yet frustrating experience to witness such love as i stood on the sidelines waiting to find my own butterflies. my own person to give me that love and affection i so desperately wanted. so i vowed to never, ever, settle.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">so i searched, and well, searched i did. through an endless barage of bad dates and even worse relationships. to the point where i was so upset and frustrated that i thought maybe i was the anomoly - that i was the forever singleton who would celebrate and appreciate the love around me, but never have love to call my own.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">until now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">until AB.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i have found the butterflies that i had been looking for. that i had been hoping for. when i felt my most lost, he found me. i quite literally have been found and in that process, discovered the butterflies only dreams could be made of. my dreams, in fact.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">he makes me feel special everyday and he has this amazing ability to lift my spirits by just smiling. he tells me he loves waking up beside me in the morning and when we kiss, he kisses me like i'm the only thing that matters. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i know it is early on, but i have been through enough almost-butterflies, lust, thrust, and smitten-ness to know that this is different. this is beyond any of that. this is soul-lust and brain-thrust and this is real. and for me, real never constituted romantic. but it is more romantic than i ever imagined. AB has pushed me into a reality of existence i never thought possible - one where a relationship is both a friendship and lovership. one where support and kindness can be better than thrills and orgasms. and while the orgasms are ever present, they are but a mere side dish to a wonderful main dish that makes me swoon with every bite.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">we search each and every day to find experiences and thrills that bring us to a new place. that enable us to brag to our friends about said moments - moments that help us grow and understand ourselves a little better. i never thought i would find an experience like AB. that i would find a person who so closely matched everything i could have ever asked for in a partner, lover, or friend. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">but i did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and i couldn't be more happier to be found.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-40470213738134246162010-10-05T22:36:00.001-04:002010-10-05T22:38:48.137-04:00fire and rain<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">as little girls, or big girls, for that matter, we set unrealistic expectations for the man we will eventually fall in love with. "the man" we want to marry - the man who will find us, rescue us, and sweep us off our feet for all of eternity.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"my man" has many traits: he must love animals, but not want one. he must want children, but be open to not having any. he must hold doors open for ladies, write well, and speak highly of his mother. he must accept my love for britney spears and understand my need for a good cup of coffee in the morning. he must recognize that reading fiction and hating movies that were orginally books is the right thing to do. he must know that James Taylor is a romantical genious and that the song "fire and rain" is the most romantical song in history.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">enter AB. who understands, accepts, and has nice little check marks against everything that i have listed above.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i should barely like him but i feel like i already love him. he stands for and holds dear everything that i have ever appreciated and been passionate about in my life. he's a man at 25...and a wonderful man at that. he is not a boy, not a boy in any sense of the word. he lost his dad to the big C word almost 2 years ago and that made him a very mature and well represented man very early on. that i recognized immediately. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">where i am loud and obnoxious, he is thoughtful and shy. where i am mean and rude, he is thoughtful and inquisitive. and for these reasons, i am completely smitten. i feel like he holds the power to rescue me from this terrible place i have been residing these past few months and i'm both scared and excited to see where this goes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">he gives me butterflies where i have never felt them before - in my soul. i want to know him, inside and out. and i want him to break down the barriers i have built up so strongly after dealing with bullshit and idiocy for as long as i can remember. he makes life interesting and worth living again. and we've only been out on two dates.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i can't wait to see what happens. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-79541560698290521702010-08-31T22:57:00.003-04:002010-08-31T23:04:02.526-04:00sometimes a girl just needs a good label<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">i have somehow lost my way in my search for butterflies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">tonight i feel empty and lost after feeling full and found for a staggering three months.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">yes, people, three. this is big for me, okay?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">oh mr. bank, how i will miss you. he entered my life with such gusto, grace, and fun that i never wanted him to leave. but leave he did - off to the big city - the city that i seem to lose all of my lovers to. he met me on a Thursday and found out the following Monday that he had received the job offer of a lifetime, a job that would require relocation. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">instead of running in the other direction, he talked to me about it. yes, talked. like, as in feelings and shit. he told me that he liked where this was going and that he wanted to continue it even after he moved to the big city. was i up for it?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">hell yeah homie.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and so began a month of moving preparations and constantly trying to push the feeling of anxiety and insecurity over a long distance relationship out of my head. we had only been dating a month and he was leaving. how do you get to know someone when they are five hours away?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">you make it work, people. or so tim gunn would say.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and oh, i tried. i tried so.damn.hard to make it work. he moved - on a rainy August morning and we made plans for me to go down and visit him two weekend's later. the visit was mixed with feelings of passion, happiness, sadness, and pure embarassment.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">yes, i said embarssment. i drank too much wine on friday night and let it slip i had referred to him as my BOYFRIEND to a coworker. he took the word BOYFRIEND as though it was the most vile thing he had ever heard.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"wow," he said, "i haven't been labelled in a really long time."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">wow indeed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i was so hurt and thrown back that i was rendered speechless for what seemed like 5 minutes. it probably wasn't even 5 seconds. so i apologized and changed the subject immediately. but it wasn't the same after. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">not at all the same. after i left Sunday night and flew back to my wonderful home, i couldn't help but feel terrible about the whole thing. why was he so worried about a label? i'm a marketer - my life is full of labels and branding. sometimes a girl needs a good label, i think. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and Mr. Bank wouldn't give it to me. and to add to my misery, his texting was inconsisent and cold upon my return from his new home. i was confused and sad - gone were the days of cute pet names and random sexting. Mr. Bank had become distant and weird. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i won't get into the nitty details but he ended it tonight. he was so uncomfortable with my boyfriend bomb that he said he felt smothered and pressured between two cities. it appears that in the end, i was dumped over a stupid label. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">but why do labels get such a bad rap? they aren't necessarily a bad thing. labels help us identify and they hold recognizable features that make us feel comfortable and safe. that's all i wanted with Mr. Bank - comfortable and safe. secure and wanted. and now that's gone. all because of my want for a label in the first place.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">good bye Mr. Bank.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-8048947340330457052010-06-14T22:51:00.000-04:002010-06-14T22:51:52.903-04:00the space in between.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">it has been quite sometime since i've sat down to write.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">these past few months, the space in between my last post..and now, is a space that is so indescribable, i don't even know where to begin.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i guess it begins with my idea of taking a hiatus. a hiatus from dating. from badboys. from heart ache and drunken texts. i think i lost myself in a myriage of boys and dates - seeking desperately to find those butterflies. i was focusing so much on the idea of a perfect boy that i stopped focusing on me. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i vowed to take three months (beginning in January) to not date, to not have sex, and to focus on me. it didn't work. i wound up breaking the rules almost two months in with a dumb boy who i met through a friend at work. i think the hiatus did the exact opposite of what i wanted - it made me needy and horny...and those two together are a disasterous combination. this dumb boy episode made me realize that i did want to find someone - but someone who wanted a relationship and was going to be a constant in my life. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">so i took up online dating.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">yeah. i am still totally embarassed about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">it's like admitting that you failed at normal social conditions - that my stupid hiatuses and silly ways have driven me to face an online buffet of desperate men in my city. an</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">d you know what? thus far, it has been a disaster. well, i did meet one almost match - the almost lawyer. but he's a story for another day.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">instead, i am going to tell you the story of jj. the man who i totally fell head over heels for instantly. the man who i could totally see myself being with. ah, the man who was married.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">jj and i connected immediately - there was a spark like i had never felt before and the conversation and flirtation was amazing. we were superstars in each other's company and it was only inevitable that something was going to happen. we started meeting each other for wine after work and created this amazing pseudo-friendship where you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">the affair began in the parking lot of a restaurant with a simple kiss and ended in a tragic tear fest. there is a lot in between that is still too fresh and too raw to put down into words right now. what we did was completely wrong and for that, i should be sorry. but i'm not. it seems so unfair that situation and circumstance can get in the way of what could have been the greatest love of all. unfair seems to be the common demonator - unfair that jj got the best of both worlds, unfair that i'm not with him, and unfair that there is nothing i can do about it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i wish this story had a happy ending. i wish my absence had purpose or merit. instead i'm nursing heart ache and anger.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">the space in between was so filled with promise for a short period of time, but was taken away to reveal a dark, empty void.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-71060348770803278602009-12-16T01:22:00.001-05:002009-12-16T01:26:20.803-05:00a bad mistake.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">in my last post, i mentioned the fact that i was done with badboy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">done with his delicious sex.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">done with his unrelenting sex drive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">basically done with him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">but that was a downright lie. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">oh, i went back - yes, yes i did. the badboy and i, in fact, have shared many nights together since i last spoke. there have even been moments where i thought that maybe badboy wasn't so bad at all. that maybe the two of us could come together when all the odds were stacked against us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">you know, 'cause that happens all the time. clearly badboy will turn out to be just a bad boy waiting for the right girl to come along and make him a good boy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">in.my.dreams.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i don't know how i convinced myself that maybe i would be different than any other girl badboy had come across. i don't know how i could put myself in such a vunerable situation (just wait, i'm getting to that). and i really don't know how i could resort back to being on the receiving end of a 30-something, non-committed asshole. i thought i had learned my lesson on that one.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">but no, instead i decided that i should come right out and talk to badboy about this whole "thing" we've got going on. my issue is this - i'm in my mid 20s, i understand the risks that go along with a non-monogamous relationship. i'm too old for bullshit and i'm certainly too old for an std. i wanted to ensure that if we were going to continue this "thing" that we were to be 100% safe about it because i wasn't sure if i was the only "thing" in his life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">annnddd he went silent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">like i basically just trumped the drunken "you anmd me = yes" text.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">there was an obvious pause and then a terrible awkwardness that wound up ruining the entire evening. there was sex, of course. safe sex. and all i could think about the whole time was - "i'm.not.the.only.one." - over and over again in my head. what a terrible feeling. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">badboy is gone. for good this time. i can't be left feeling like this ever again. i should not have to question a boy's intentions with me. and i shouldn't have to be ms. monday or "one of many." it's unfair.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i deserve better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">all girls do.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-75602595313954896592009-11-07T23:54:00.001-05:002009-11-07T23:58:27.261-05:00an update.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">it has been quite some time since i last provided you an update. and i'm here to tell you - there is reason for this absence. the reason(s) in chronological order:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1 - the virgin "did I mention I have Crohns?" guy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2 - the friend-of-the-coworker (AKA married dude) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2 - the return of the badboy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">i am well aware that these are not really reasons, but boys. but isn't that the best reason ever? i have been living in the awkward middleground that is singleness for quite some time now and lately, i have been calling into question my own ability to attract guys who i want to date and be serious with. this ability appears to be non-existent - i love bad, bad boys. boys who you don't want to take home to your family. boys who don't call you back. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">so after my latest disasterous bout of badboy, i decided that i should take this realization that i am attracting the wrong kind of boy and once again, try for the good. enter my roomie, who sets me up immediately with an old coworker. he's tall and nice and smart, she says. he is a good person, a Finance guy. oh, and did we mention he's a virgin? yep. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">i must admit, i was intrigued. he's in his late 20s, i saw his facebook profile picture - he's cute, and he's got a good future ahead of him. i am assured by ms. roomie that he is social and friendly...and her guess is that he just has never had the right opportunity. good guys, apparently, wait for an act of god before performing a deadly sin. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">so i decided to go on a Sunday brunch date with the virgin. and saw why he was still a virgin. homeboy is rake thin. tall and thin. and while i understand this works for some ladies, it does not work for this one. but i gave it the benefit of the doubt, enjoyed brunch and the company, and decided that nice guys deserve a date (and a break) sometimes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and when the virgin asked if we could go to a movie that week, i said yes. so off we went to an old school theatre downtown right before Halloween to see an old horror classic and as we sit settle into our seats and wait for the film to start, he throws out the most ridiculous and TMI (def'n - acronym, too much information) statement i have ever heard on a second date - "did i mention i have crohns?" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and wow. obviously my first thought is poor guy. my next thought is, well that's why he's so skinny. how does someone react to a statement like this? i felt horrible and mumbled that i was sorry to hear that...blah blah blah...please get me the hell out of here. that's when i also looked down and saw that his thighs were skinnier than mine.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">deal breaker. total deal breaker. trust me, the crohns i could handle, the TMI i could chalk up as nerves, but the thighs? no way. it was done right then and there. that's my thing. a dude's gotta have bigger thighs. anything else is just unnatural.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and so after the movie, i broke things off with the virgin TIMI guy. and went on to warding off the friend-of-a-coworker. he's married and older and works for a company i really, really want to work for some day. and he likes me. very much. he IMs me every day and it's relentless. it has gone from innocent to not innocent at all. and all the while this is going on, badboy comes back on the scene.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">turns out he wasn't uninterested, he's just bad. he doesn't want dates and movie nights, he wants sex, motorcycles, and cigarettes. so i had my way with him on my own terms (read: great round 2 sex) and felt that at least i remembered all of it this time, and he seemed very satisfied. that <a href="http://nothingglessthanbutterflies.blogspot.com/2009/10/badass-bust.html">badass bust</a> made me call into question my "abilities" and made me feel that perhaps i wasn't desirable. why else would he not want to see me again. oh yeah, he's the badboy.<br />
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">i see the badboy and i continuing a professional and friendly front at work, but i think i'm done. he's not what i want. he is not good for the ego, or the soul. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">after the badboy realization, it appeared that the whole friend-of-the-colleague chatting sessions were getting more racy (on his end) and very inappropriate messages. especially while he was away on business this week. he recorded, yes recorded, the most sexual messages i have heard. it was like phone sex, but a recording. it made me blush, laugh, and tingly all at the same time. and that should not have been the case. this guy should not be doing this. he's married and has 2 kids. not cool dude, not cool. and here i was almost encouraging it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">so i slapped myself out of my egoistic, attention-seeking frame of mind and told him to stop. and he kinda has. kinda. there are no more recordings, but there is certainly still a lot of messaging and attention. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">is this bad? probably. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">but i can't cut all bad out of my life, where's the fun in that?<br />
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-84774670849139124452009-10-19T19:04:00.000-04:002009-10-19T19:04:50.864-04:00the badass bust.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">damn.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">my hopes of catching and taming the badboy are over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">dashed. gone. a distant memory.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">there have been a few texts, some casual conversation, and a msn conversation here and there - but that does not constitute progress. i asked him out over msn today to see this cool documentary - a film that is playing for only two days downtown. and he told me he has volleyball on both of those nights, sadface, sorry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">no offer of an alternative.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">no continuing of the conversation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">i may as well had a phat farm sweatshirt on - he is so not into me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">damn. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-72723859462775173502009-10-13T19:16:00.000-04:002009-10-13T19:16:37.024-04:00the right kind of wrong.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">the words, "oh wow" come to mind as i try to figure out how to explain to you my new found desire for all things bad.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i went on the date with mr. motorcycle, and i was, oh so very, very bad. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">we went to a restaurant near his place and enjoyed delish food and a bottle of wine - act of badness the first.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i was driving - why was i agreeing to share a bottle of wine? i had to eventually embark upon a 20 minute drive home - why would i ever think this was ever okay? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i blame the badboy influence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">that and the fact he looked so damn yummy. (but i guess when your last date wore Phat Farm, anything was bound to impress.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">so there i am, drinking my, oh fourth glass of wine, when he brings up the preverbial question, "so, what are we doing after dinner?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">me: "uh, go and get a drink somewhere?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY I SHOULD HAVE MORE BEFORE I GET BEHIND THE WHEEL. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and so materialized act of badness #2.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">mr. motorcycle approved of my suggestion and off we went for a drink down the street, but not before he first suggested that we "just go back to his place" to drink. in a suprising act of somewhat intelligence, i quickly poo-poo-ed that idea and directed us over to a bar.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">where we proceeded to drink more. (</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">act of badness the third.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">the conversation, by the way, was amazing and natural. he is actually cool and easy to talk to - i liked it. we played 20 questions and i enjoyed all of his answers and questions. i enjoyed it so much that when he asked if i wanted to go to his house and have a drink, i said yes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">that was the ultimate act of badness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i fought hard (well over 45 minutes) at his house to keep a physical distance between us. until it all went arye and we got naked and had very, very bad sex - but bad in the good way.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">whoops.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">there was a lot of badass sex that night. so much in fact that i'm still not walking properly. i have bruises, marks, and amazing memories. i left in the morning with a massive headache but a rather dirty smile on my face. he really is that bad...in a good way.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i promised myself i would not contact him first. i had to play it super cool, let him come to me, you know? instead i wound up sending a drunktxt (def'n: a text message sent when you have consumed too much alcohol) to mr. motorcycle. to my surprise he responded quickly and sadly declined my drunken request to come to the bar we were at.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">but i didn't stop there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">oh no. no. no. no.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i wrote him back (and i quote WORD FOR WORD) "Ps - i think you anmd me = yes"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">liiike, what? who thinks up something like that, let alone says it? and who can't spell the word "and"? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">when i read it back to myself in the morning, i was devastated. in one text message, i might have destroyed all my chances i had with mr. motorcycle.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">so i attempted damage control and sent him a text message apologizing for the drunken texts. and he wrote back with a "these things happen. have a great Thanksgiving." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">!!!!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">hmm...bad boy played nice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and i'm still very much into him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">stay posted.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-9315899270546562642009-10-06T22:26:00.004-04:002009-10-06T22:31:33.418-04:00the one with a motorcycle<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">when i was a little girl, my mother told me a story that made me forever terrified of anything to do with motorcycles. i will spare you the gruesome details of a story involving an accident, a motorcycle, and a paramedic (my mom's cousin) - but it was terrible and incredibly impressionable. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">so, i grew up with the forced understanding that motorcycles were bad.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">in fact, it was also the people who drove motorcycles, she said, who were bad - </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i believe my mother even once when so far as to comment, "boys who drive motorcycles have loose morals."</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i have never been remotely interested in anything to do with motorcycles until i accidently stumbled upon a cute boy who works in my building. and he just so happens to own a motorcycle.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">he is bad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and not just because he owns a motorcycle - he has this whole badass mantra that i can't put a finger on. and i like it. he is funny, sometimes crude, and calls it like it is. he is refreshing and provides an excellent distraction during my day. but he owns a motorycle, and that is bad.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">but i'm beginning to think that bad is the new good.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">he has offered to take me on my first motorcycle ride too many times to recall and i have turned him down each time. his reactions to my fear have been both hilarious and understandable. and i like his teasing - it's bad and good all at the same time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and now The One With a Motorcycle has asked me out for dinner on Friday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and i said yes, on the condition that we travel in a vehicle that has doors and windows.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">but this brings me to the question - why? why am i going for a badass again? why am i wasting my time with a boy who is often rude but shows signs of goodness? i sometimes think it's because i see a glimmer of good AND the fact that i am drawn to situations where i like the boy more than he likes me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i like the chase. i like the butterflies. i like the unknowns and it appeals to me in ways that i can't explain. my fear of motorcyles is deeply rooted - they are scary and bad, it gives me butterflies just looking at one. but in a weird way, i think i am drawn to them and attracted to their power. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">almost like the feeling i get with a bad boy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and now i have found a bad boy WITH a motorcycle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...this should be interesting.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-36759748278927152682009-10-01T23:17:00.000-04:002009-10-01T23:17:11.173-04:00when nice just doesn't cut it.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">so i gave it a shot with That Nice Guy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">annnd it was a complete bust.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">i must preface my disappointment with the explanation that i tried really hard to open myself to the possibility that maybe it was time for me to choose nice over unavailable. that it was my chance to break my bad dating habits and embrace the comfortness that is That Nice Guy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">so i said yes to a movie date. and this time, i didn't make up a lame excuse to ditch him and i only changed the place and date once. i swear. so off i went on a date that i hoped would forever change my fucked up status-quo.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">but i couldn't get past his wardrobe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">don't even get me started. phat farm at 25? he may as well been dressed in seasame street attire. it was absolutely ridiculous and i had no idea how to act. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">he tried several times to put his hand on my thigh during the movie and i caught him every few minutes, looking over at me with this weirdo look that suggested he might kiss me. it was during the movie that i realized i am so not into him. That Nice Guy is simply that, nice. He is not anything close to what i crave and desire in a significant other. i want passion and laughter and awesomeness and unrelenting desire. and That Nice Guy does not arouse any of those feelings. <br />
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">so after this realization (and the movie), i practically ran to my car (yes, my car, SINCE HE DOES NOT OWN ONE) and chauffered That Nice Guy home, with the realization that our relationship would end in exactly the same place it began - in the rain, in his driveway, in awkward silence. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-80773354014785719972009-09-26T15:07:00.000-04:002009-09-26T15:07:40.359-04:00that nice guy<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I started this blog in an effort to keep my darling best friend who is currently on a job assignment in the middle east up to date on my boy adventures.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and it has turned into so much more than that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">this blog has quickly turned into my Journal 2.0. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">my thoughts are now typed for all the world to see on the Internets. gone are the days when they were locked away in my nightstand, right next to the vibrator and condoms.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and i kinda like it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">perhaps my mistakes, endeavours, successes, and their subsequent lessons will shed light on others' search for butterflies.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">so here i am today, to muse about That Nice Guy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">we all know one - the guy who gets you a cab home, the one who finds your jacket and makes sure you get home safe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i have one of those and he likes me. a lot, i think. i met That Nice Guy through good friends and through various social and sport activities. we actually see each other quite often. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and one night in the middle of the summer, we made out in the rain, in my car. here was the conversation:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><em>*intense storm rain is beating down and we are in my car, music is playing softly on the radio...there is silence..until finally..*</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">That Nice Guy: wow. that is intense rain. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">me: righhhht. so are we going to sit here in my car and talk about the weather, or are you going to kiss me?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">That Nice Guy: oh yes, right, i was getting to that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and so began a very lovely make-out that lasted for quite sometime, until the rain died down and he ran inside. and i ran away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">he is too damn nice. he has a good job, talks highly of his mom, and has it pretty much together. he is single, available, tall, and attractive. so why can't i like him?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i have ditched him a few times now and with work being so busy, i haven't made any effort to see him. and then last night, he came by my friend's house for drinks. and it wasn't so bad. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i had a conversation about That Nice Guy with my new and wonderful friend, D, the other day. she agreed that it was pretty fucked up that often we feel the need to run far away from stable and nice. perhaps it's time, we thought, to start a new trend - a trend that involves embracing a kind of boy that is thoughtful, generous, and caring. the one who would marry you. the one who thinks about buying a house and saving for retirement. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i will see That Nice Guy tonight and i am excited to embrace my new trend. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-27558790791423239842009-09-25T14:15:00.000-04:002009-09-25T14:15:54.567-04:00mr. popular (AKA once-a-month-bf)<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">i met mr. popular when i was in university - he was super cool and was the classic "guy's guy." he dated pretty girls and went to all the pub crawls, fundraisers, and networking events. he was literally the most popular boy in school - he was funny and interesting and cool, but i was never physically attracted to him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">until we took a 4th year Supply Chain Management class together and bonded during a field trip to the Walmart Distribution Center. Oh yes, we were that cool. it was on this trip that i realized that maybe his tall and large frame and cute nerd glasses were actually attractive. so we hung out a bit, went on some dates, kissed, and talked about our successful careers and the future ahead of us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">then he got an amazing job at a huge blue-chip company in Toronto and moved after he graduated. it was no big loss to me at the time - i had lots of other boys on the go and mr. popular had physically removed himself from the equation. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">mr. popular and i continued to flirt and talk via the Internets - swapping work stories and sexual adventures. he helped me through many possible boy disasters and i provided insight into the confusing world that is a lady's brain. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i finally made the trip down to toronto a few summer's ago to visit him and see if maybe living in TO was something i would enjoy. but it was not a successful trip. i spent more time meeting all of mr. popular's girl friends and fans then i did hanging out with him. i was devastated - i thought that the trip would make me fall in love with both him and life in Toronto. but it did the opposite - i left frustrated, mad, and annoyed with Toronto and mr. popular. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">it left a bad taste in my mouth and i vowed never to go back until last year, when he came clean about that fateful trip. he told me that he had been "scared" and that his outlook on life and love was changing. perhaps i was that one person he was supposed to be with? i didn't know the answer to that, i said. but i did know that living in toronto, and being with mr. popular was not an option then.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">now, maybe it is.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">my new job requires me to be in the big city at least once a month. mr. popular is usually around. and he makes a nice once-a-month boyfriend. we have dinner together, hold hands, kiss, and have pretty good sexy time. it's glorious and nice and fancy and so grown-up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">so i just got back from toronto. and this time, it wasn't so great. i don't know what i'm doing anymore actually. i get my hopes up for my once-a-month-bf and our adventures - both in the city and in bed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">but this time was weird and a bit different. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and i can't describe why.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">there was nothing unusual or awkward. there was no badness or weirdness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">just a weird feeling inside of me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">i don't think i can do once-a-month-bf anymore - physically or mentally. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">just another excuse to stay as far away from toronto as possible.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-22232314888481345802009-09-20T21:44:00.000-04:002009-09-20T21:44:56.592-04:00platonic passion.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">i find it a frustrating concept that guys and girls can be friends. i'm not saying it is impossible, i'm just saying that it is rare. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">i think it is unnatural that a platonic relationship can exist between men and women beyond kindergarten and grade school. (and even those friendships forged in our early years often end up in messy drunken "i have always loved you" confessions). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">i have never dated a guy who had "really good" girl friends but i don't think i would ever be comfortable with it. call me jaded, but i believe that having relations with a member of the opposite sex will lead to just that, sex. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">boys and girls cannot be friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">or so i keep telling myself. because i cannot get Mr. Grammar out of my head. Who is Mr. G, you ask? I met Mr. G through my last job and I became good friends with him and his gf. in fact, The One That Looked Like Jesus and I went out on several double dates with them. The boys were even good friends - they still are.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So fast forward - The One That Looked Like Jesus and I break up. Mr. G stays friends with both of us. Mr. G makes major efforts to keep our friendship going. he still does. he likes my company, i like his. it is easy and natural and amazing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">we like words and reading. scrabble gets us excited. we talk about nothing and everything and there is a comfortable comfort that i just can't exactly explain. but it is effortless and stimulating and amazing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and i am so in love with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and he has a girlfriend. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">my issue is this: we met in our mid 20s. we were co-workers for a year. and now, after a break up and a lay-off, we still make a significant effort to hang out and see each other.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">he calls me "just to talk" and we make dinner for each other. alone. sans gf.<br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">inappropriate for "just friends"?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">i don't know. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">up until now, i have pushed the platonic-ness of our relationship in an effort to ensure Mr. G stays in my life. i'm scared if he knew how much i cared about him, he might run away or become awkward. but then i think that maybe he cares about me too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">he called me tonight just to say "hi" and that he was "thinking about me". Would you want your boyfriend doing that to another girl? i think not. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">so i think now it has gotten to a point where i must say something.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">turn my platonic-ness into a passion and speak up for my feelings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">sometimes in life we need to take a chance and take the plunge.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">here's to my platonic passion plunge. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-88627175504754662372009-09-15T20:09:00.000-04:002009-09-15T20:09:46.410-04:00the ghosts of boyfriends past.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">in order to start this blog properly, i need for you to become aquainted with the boys of my past.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">i warn you now, my track record with guys isn't the prettiest or the most innocent. i admit, there have been times where i became lost in certain dramatic situations (hello, office affairs) and caught chasing the wrong guys </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(oh hi, mr. professor). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">i am not proud of some of the things i've done (or the guys i've done, for that matter) but they all form into the beautiful story that is my life. and while happiness is not measured or controlled by our relationships with the male </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">species, i find they are major contributors to the lessons we learn and the people we become.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">allow me to share with you some of my major contributors:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Mr. Insta Happily Ever After</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I met Mr. IHEA years ago during my frosh week at university. he was a fourth year (whoa.) and a Teaching Assistant (read: position of authority.) and i wanted him. turns out he wanted me too. and after months of flirtation and </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">mild inappropriateness, we kinda hooked up. and it wasn't bad. Please understand that Mr. IHEA was not the most attractive young business graduate, but what he lacked in looks, he made up for in personality and oral sex.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">our little "thing" lasted for a few months until he graduated. and then he got really serious. he wanted an insta-wife. i wanted fun. he had the degree, now he wanted a career, a house, a girl. i wanted wine, cigarettes, and lipgloss. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">and so it ended based on our differing situations in life. but this was not the last of Mr. IHEA. oh no. he made a triumphant return in the fall of 2007 when I began recycledating (def'n - the act of re-dating a person from the past bec</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ause your current options are limited). Mr. IHEA was a good bet. I was about to graduate and i wanted serious. so i got drunk with him a lot, told him i loved him during several drunken phone calls, kissed him a few times, and </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">shared my dreams for "our future." and then i ran away. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">whoops.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">what i did to Mr. IHEA is not nice. not at all. i took advantage of a situation because i needed to make myself feel better about myself. and in the process, i hurt a really good guy. we should never have to turn back to someone we </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">already left because we need insta-gratification. recycle-dating is never the answer. there was a reason we left in the first place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>trouble</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">trouble is perhaps the most scandalous contributor. i am not proud of this story and what happened with trouble was, just that, trouble. in fact, if he ever read this, he would be proud of what was written. which is shame really.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">so yes, i urge you to judge based on the scadalous-ness of it all, i would too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">and so the story goes - many years back when i was in business school, i interned at a major computer company. i was 21. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">there i met trouble. aka nerd gorgeous. and i was enthralled. i wanted him so very much. but knew that it was a big corporate no-no. oh, and he had a live-in girlfriend. i can't explain to you why i always enjoy(ed) going after </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">guys who are completely unavailable, but i can't remember a time when i didn't love the chase. and although trouble was certainly unavailable (in oh so many ways), i certainly didn't have to chase him. because he chased me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">and so began a scandalous affair that saw at least one boardroom table, a bathroom, and a stairwell. whoops. (like i said, i'm not proud). but after months of this office affair, i realized that this was unfair to me. he was getting </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">the best of both worlds, and i? i was having sex in the back of a car and in public places BECAUSE WE HAD NO WHERE ELSE TO GO. He lived with his girlfriend. i lived with my parents. yikes. we couldn't go out in public often and he </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">was at least 10 years my senior. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">so i said goodbye to trouble. and he was hard to let go. he fought to stick around and i still hear from him from time to time. mostly to see if i want to hook-up, and the answer is no everytime. boys like trouble are no good. they </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">want it all and expect to give you nothing in return. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>The One That Looked Like Jesus</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">he didn't look like jesus when i first met him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">he was beautiful. and he asked me if i liked snowboarding on the first day of my "real-life-big-girl" job. i thought he was the coolest coworker ever and i was the new girl in a cool company that was young-ish and did really </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">good things for the world. it was exciting and amazing. the perfect first job out of university. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">he made coming into work exciting. he made it fun and interesting and social and friendly and amazing. i could go on. oh, and he had a girlfriend. (yes, can you see a pattern here?) he was unattainable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">and so i fought hard to keep it platonic until one night we both gave up trying to fight it and we kissed. and that kiss turned into sex. in his car. (yes, can you see a pattern here?) but that sex in his car turned into countless </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">more encounters that somewhere along the way sparked true feelings. and then he broke up with his gf ...and i became his gf...it was surreal and weird. but it worked. it worked until somewhere in the middle of Fall last year, he </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">stopped wanting me. (you can read an earlier post about The One That Looked Like Jesus and our subsequent break-up. a break-up i asked for, but that he had initiated months before.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The One That Looked Like Jesus was a lesson in never settling. all my friends were in relationships, i was in a relationship - WE ALL TOOK VACATIONS TOGETHER. HOW COOL IS THAT? and i didn't want to loose that. i liked the </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">comfort. so i stayed longer than i should have. just because it was easy. and because we worked together. but i knew in the end (and i certainly know now) that i deserved better. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--- </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">while i would love to say that my experience in life, love, dating, and sex is limited to these three winners, i am afraid i would be lying to you. there have been many more, more than i am willing to admit. but it seems that it has </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">been these three who had the most impact and who have taught me the most.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-34289799373226181952009-09-13T09:40:00.001-04:002009-09-13T09:41:39.861-04:00a little walk down memory lanethe concept of 'never settling' is a lesson I learned the hard way.<br />
a lesson that took a very long time to truly understand.<br />
i would like to share with you the hurt and confusion that existed within me after i left my first "serious" boyfriend in early spring 2009:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">I never thought it would hurt like this. I thought it would be easy to get over an asshole. But it was an asshole I spent a year with. I miss him with everything and with shame. How can I romanticize a relationship that was lacking so much?</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span> <br />
<div class="EC_MsoNormal"></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">He left his live-in girlfriend for me. He swept me off my feet and the dropped me so very hard. There are not enough descriptors in the English language to define everything that was wrong with our relationship. </span></span></span></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">It was unemotional.</span></span></span></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">It was detached.</span></span></span></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">It sucked.</span></span></span></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">But I miss it. I miss the companionship. A type of companionship I never knew I wanted. The feeling of knowing you have someone to go home to. Someone to fall asleep beside. Someone to just be there.</span></span></span></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">But I came to realize that while companionship is wonderful, it is not a relationship. A relationship requires support, understanding, love, and passion. And I was missing all of them. My boyfriend openly made fun of me, was uncomfortable with my parent’s success, disrespected my job, and refused to introduce me to his parents.</span></span></span></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Yeah.</span></span></span></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">He made me think there was something wrong with me. That I was something to be embarrassed about – when the reality was I was the best thing that had ever happened to him. I was young and pretty and smart and beginning a successful career. I was witty, classy, and respectful. But he could not love me and I will never know why. </span></span></span></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">He also refused to have sex with me more than once a week. Saturday mornings – that was it. Sex became a taboo subject and he refused to answer my simple question – “why?” Why do you not want to have sex with me? Why do you turn away from me? I got every excuse in the book and again, I will never know why.</span></span></span></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"></div><div class="EC_MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Franklin Gothic Book';"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">How someone can be so utterly shut off from his feelings, I will never know. </span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8845515261973822411.post-4346436850941374792009-09-13T09:23:00.000-04:002009-09-13T09:23:12.537-04:00One in a Bazillionso.<br />
the world wide web is rampant with blogs about the quest for finding "mr. right".<br />
i've read a lot of them, and always enjoyed the feeling that i am not alone in my search.<br />
that i am right in pushing away all the mr. wrongs. that i should not settle. that i should wait it out.<br />
<br />
<br />
i have always chronicled my life through a journal (ok, at one time it was a bright pink diary, but who's asking) and i think it is time to take my most intimate musings and issues public.<br />
<br />
because that's really smart. and clearly what everybody else is doing.<br />
<br />
welcome. enjoy. experience. learn.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0