On the Road Again

Unknown to some, I’ve been given quite the special talent. With that said, I suppose I have to consider what one would define as special.

Clairvoyance, I suppose, is the best term for it. And to some a talent like this can be considered a gift. For others a curse. And for many, one in the same. But then again, I suppose that all depends on who you’re talking to.
Okay, okay…so maybe I can’t see into the future exactly. But I do have a talent for knowing when it’s over. And today my friends…IT…IS…OVER.

When James Dean and I first met, it was the kind of stuff that Disney movies are made of – talking silverware, singing birds and a whole new world. Can’t get any more magic than that now can we? He arrived at the most inopportune time to show me that all was not lost in love and war. And up until now, it has been quite the magic carpet ride.

When that carpet first took off, I made it very clear that I’m not an along for the ride type of gal. And within a specific amount of time I expected that ride to pull into the station and settle down for the long haul.

Fast forward to the present and we’re now entering our arrival date of what I expected to be a pending engagement. But harsh reality has changed my Disney world view on things and brought me back down to reality. Before we can begin to move forward together as a couple there are a few pieces of baggage that we both need to unload that we picked up during our single life.

I have personally struggled with the, who, what, where and when on how to handle this conversation. How do you tell the person that you want to spend the rest of your life with that we may have to put that spending plan on hold while you deal with past debts that came up before you even knew one another?

And yet, somehow I found what I thought was the right time and the right place to discuss my fears. So I laid my cause on the line. I knew the timeline of a pending engagement – that albeit I set – was coming close and I wanted to make sure that we were entering into it with a clean slate on both our ends and that we should forget about my forced timeline and just let things happen.

After I said it.

After we had discussed it.

After my message was clear.

My world stopped spinning.

James Dean had become as cold as Tom Riddle – and we all know there’s no coming back from “he who should not be named”.

This is where my gift and my curse emerged and I knew that it was coming to an end.

I knew that it was over.

But he didn’t know.

And if he did he didn’t want to admit it. At least, not in that moment.

It took a day a half before he knew. Which in retrospect, I suppose hurt more, because he had fooled me into thinking different. And a huge thanks goes to Edward and Bella for leading me to believe that the future is subjectable.

LIES!!!!

In moments like this, the future is inevitable.

If the surplus of metaphors and pop culture references have you confused, to put it simply James Dean and I have broken up.

And here I am, again. Back in the realm of singularity.

30 Day Notice

“It’s only been a week and a half. Don’t people date anymore?” 

Aiden Shaw – Sex and the City 

Thanks to this one little quote a mantra was set….

At some point during the dating game comes the round of it’s time to “do it” tug o war. But how many rounds are you supposed to go before you enter into the ring, rope in hand? How hard should you pull? How much should you give? And most importantly at what point do you throw in the towel and say “it’s time to ‘do it!'”

30 days.

At least that’s what I give myself. There will be no sleepovers, no coming up for “a cup of coffee”, no “coming over to watch a movie”, and no dinners at my/his place. There have to be some boundaries set. And the longer I keep myself away from areas that include couches, beds or kitchen tables <—oh c’mon don’t act like you haven’t at least thought about it —> the more likely I am to keep the sex haze phase and twiterpated phase separate.

Don’t get me wrong, these rules have been broken on several occasions but not without consequences. (And we are sooooo not going to talk about those consequences right now!)

The 30 day sex diet is an attempt to make it though the phases of the dating game that more often than not tend to overlap before one has completely run its course.

Phase 1: Attraction – “Wow he’s hot”

Phase 2: Sexual Chemistry – “Fuuuuck! I should just take my clothes off now”

Phase 3: Getting to know you – “Awwww…he calls his mom every Sunday”

Phase 4: Caring about you – “I’m here for you if you need to talk”

Corny? Perhaps. But it makes sense though right? And what’s so wrong with having sex with someone you actually care about?

And so one date night, after one too many whiskeys, and one too many thoughts of “Fuuuck! I should just take my clothes off now!” I told James Dean about my 30 day notice. No details. or specifics, I simply told him that I wanted to wait a month and he was completely on board with it.

Let the countdown begin…..

Movers and Shakers

For a year I stopped dancing; rather, I stopped doing the dance:

“Does he like me?”

“Should I text him?”

“Is he really interested?”

I had found a table to settle down at and watch others take their chance out on the dance floor.

But now, at the table alone, it was my time to hit the floor again.

(Cue cheesy romantic comedy music now…How about a little “Hello” by Lionel Riche)

I had barely made it through the first verse when there he was, James Dean – names have been changed to protect the innocent and to make the guilty question whether or not I’m talking about them – and who in their right mind can resist a guy with that “James Dean Daydream” look in his eye? (Damn you Taylor Swift!) He took me by the hand and led me out to the floor.

We laughed, we talked, we flirted, we drank <— of course! —> and we set a date for the next night.

And just like that I was doing the dance again…..

“Does he like me?”

“Should I text him?”

“Is he really interested?”

Guess we’ll just keep dancing until the song goes off….

Dumb and Dumber

The summer before I started 4th grade, all I wanted to be was just another dumb kid.

Without any sort of permission from me, my mom had decided to rip me away from the elementary school that I had known and loved since kindergarten – where I learned the fundamentals about how to steal a cookie from the cookie jar (Who me? Couldn’t be. Then who?) 

According to some stupid test and to my disbelief I was considered a smart kid, which meant I had to go to the smart kid school. I yelled, I screamed, I protested, and I argued that all I wanted to be was just another dumb kid.

Somehow I survived 4th grade and have made it into adulthood. Yet I’ve found ways to be that dumb kid that I always longed to be….

We made it a year.

But at 10 months and 2 weeks I knew it was over. I studied our problems at bars, at brunch, late nights on my couch with a glass of wine, – I swear I’m not an alcoholic! – but no matter how I tried to rework it, the answer was the same every time – I had to subtract myself from the relationship.

And so I did.

The one constant among all the other variables was simple – I fell out of love. I mean no matter how hard it may be, there are just certain things we all have to acknowledge as fact: Myspace is no longer a relevant form of social media; Brad and Jenn are never getting back together; Derek Jeter is retired; and when that moment hits you that you see the man you thought you loved as your best friend rather than someone you want to build a future with, the fact that you’ve fallen out of love is the only thing that makes any sense.

After weeks of back and forth and trying to do what no other broken couple has ever been able to do – “be friends” – I finally had to completely walk away. And when I did, Donnie asked me to give him one good memory that I would hold onto about him and our relationship.

And so I thought…..

The day I told him I loved him, we fought.

The day we went to the fair, we fought.

Our first long weekend away together, we fought.

My bestfriend’s wedding, we fought.

My birthday, we fought.

New Year’s Eve, we fought.

Valentine’s Day, we fought.

So I did what I had been doing the final month and two weeks of our relationship, I played dumb. and said my birthday.

So now, faced with a years worth of memories, and what seems to be a years worth of arguments I have to ask myself just how long I had really been playing dumb about the relationship. Was it just that last month and 2 weeks, or did I know we weren’t compatible all along?

Like I said, I just want to be another dumb kid.

Heads or Hearts?

WARNING!!!

This is one of those ramblings where I take the time out to delve in my emotional psyche. It may be due to the fact that I just have so much to say…or perhaps someone has had a bit too much red wine to drink on a stay at home Saturday night. Either way, you’ve been warned….

It’s been 10 months and 2 weeks since I met Donnie. We are much further along than where I thought we’d be. We have shared holidays, birthdays, sickness, family dysfunction, arguments, love, financial issues, dinners, dancing, weddings, friends, weekends and everything else that comes tied up in the unknown package that gets delivered on your front porch when you make the decision to enter into a relationship.

And now – after 10 months and 2 weeks – I’m starting to panic.

Perhaps, I am one of those people that just can’t be in a relationship – or at least that’s what I tell myself when I feel the need to lock down in panic room for an undisclosed amount of time.

Perhaps, I’m simply not happy in this relationship – which is what I tell myself when my mind starts to wander over past relationships.

Perhaps, what we’re going through is a rough patch (and every relationship has rough patches) – which is what I tell myself when I contemplate staying.

Perhaps, I can’t handle this (whatever this is) – which is what I tell myself when I contemplate walking away.

I love Donnie. He was the glue that held me together as the world attempted to stone me to death during a very tough 2014. But now, 10 months and 2 weeks later, I feel as though he has been a solid ground to support me when I’m falling, but what’s missing is the hand to catch me if I lose my balance. There’s an emotional disconnect between what’s supporting me and what’s holding me up. I know he loves me but the problem is that I don’t feel it.

I think this may be the first time in history where the head knows better than the heart. But then again, this is the year of “deflategate” so I guess anything is possible.

So what’s a girl to do? Go with what she knows or fall victim to how she feels? Perhaps, I’ll just have another glass of wine…..

Lights…Camera…Action!!

Dear Hollywood,
F**k you!!
Sincerely,
Me

Detect a hint of bitterness??? Oh yea, you better. Go ahead and go down the list yourselves…

From the classics: Gone with the Wind and Casablanca

To the awkward 80’s: 16 Candles, Pretty Woman and Say Anything

The infamous: Sleepless in Seattle, The Notebook and Titanic

And finally the re-imagined modern: Twilight (oh you bet your sweet ass I’m taking my wrath out on vampires and werewolves too!)

Retell the story any way you’d like – boy meets girl, sparks ensue, and in a matter of seconds girl is pouring her overly emotional heart out to guy and he’s juuuust sitting there. Listening. Oh, and then boy pours his (slightly less, I mean c’mon he is a guy) emotional heart out to girl. And she’s juuuuust sitting there. Listening. (and loving every second of it, I mean c’mon. She is a girl). What I wouldn’t give for a scripted Hollywood version of my life. No emotional insecurities, no anxieties, no fear of judgement. Juuuuust someone sitting there. Listening.

As Donnie and I continue to journey down this path that has now evolved into a relationship – yea it happened. But don’t go and blow this out of proportion!! Unless you want to see me dodge, dip, duck, dive and dodge out on Hwy 80 – I’m finding that writing my own script to the things I want to say isn’t as easy as being a girl, standing in front of a boy asking him to love her. (Did I forget to mention my angry wrath is also geared toward the Brits?) Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m being overly analytical – hey, I am a Scorpio after all. Or maybe I’m being emotionally guarded – nope that’s definitely me being a Scorpio. Or maybe…and remember I did say maybe…I’m a little afraid that going unscripted might make this a little less Hollywood and a bit more real. Because once the lights and cameras are off, it’s just me….flaws and all.

End Scene.

Would You Like To Use A Life Line?

I have a little sister, a mom, a dad and hosts of cousins, aunts and uncles.

I can point out my best friends in an instant; and not think twice about the groups people i’ve chosen to be close with.

I know my frenemies and ex boyfriends like the back of my hand – So well in fact, that I know there should be a 20 foot radius between them and me at all times.

I know all these people and their role in my life. I know where they fit. But most importantly they’ve been defined. Our relationships have meaning, boundaries and an unstated understanding.

Donnie Brasco, however, does not.

He’s much more than some guy im dating. He’s the boy. That’s how I know him. That’s how my friends know him. And they know that when the boy is used in any sentence that I’m referring to someone who’s much more than just some guy. 

But that’s not the proper definition for him….Or is it?

Donnie and I recently spent just shy of a full 48 hours together and surprisingly enough didn’t kill one another. But within that time frame we ran into random groups of friends that I know, and it was the first time that the lines and boundaries that we had drawn for ourselves, invited an enemy invasion and asked for a definition. Who are you? What are we? How do I introduce you so it’s not awkward for anyone involved?

Hold up! Wait a minute…let me put some singularity in it…

Before this conversation goes any further, let it be known that I am a commitment phobe. The very thought of having “the talk” breaks my brow out in a cold sweat, pushes my pulse into overdrive, and I contemplate the very idea of literally running out to go play in traffic. (“Please let the next car be a F-150”)

But by standard (I wish I knew the asshole who was making these rules up), the panic attack that comes so natural to me, is defined as peculiar, uncommon and unknown. What I have with Donnie makes people uncomfortable, because to them, it doesn’t have a meaning.

To the people that don’t know me, I’m still single, to the few that do they know I’m not. And the very select handful that I let into my world of crazy, know that I’m not interested in anyone else, and that’s all that matters. So why do I need to label it for everyone else?

Call it caving under pressure. Call it conformism. Call it whatever you will, but just don’t call it a relationship! (At least not to my face…unless of course you’d like to see me taking my chances out there on Highway 80.

Carrie Quotes Vol 3

“Maybe all men are a drug. Sometimes they bring you down. And sometimes, like now, they get you so high. – Carrie Bradshaw”

Quotio

Exposed

Some people are just born with talent.

These people are singers because….well…they can sing.

Dancers – because…well…they can dance.

Athletes – they’re just so damn athletic!

And politicians – some people are just natural born liars.

I, as I have come to find out over the past 29 years or so, am NOT talented.

I, as I have also come to find out over the past 29 years or so, am pretty passionate about certain things. (And isn’t that worth more than the ability to win a Grammy and rake in millions of dollars year after year?)

Some of the things that I’m passionate about include, but are not limited to the following: eating and drinking, the Oakland A’s, Sex and the City, Red Bull, Rihanna, and my closet. And though this list and changed and evolved throughout the years, one thing has always remained at the top of the list – my passion for writing.

Donnie Brasco – names have been changed to protect the innocent and make the guilty question whether or not I’m talking about them – is someone I’ve been meaning to write about. You may know him as the combination of Mr. Wants and Mr. Needs. (And If you don’t please scroll down and work your way back up.) And up until now I couldn’t find the right moment to bring him up, the right story to share, and the right feelings to discuss.

But recently Donnie found my blog floating around in cyberspace and now all my secrets are on the table. (What better moment to talk about him than now?)

It’s not like it was a big secret. He knew about my blog on or around our 2nd or 3rd date. He knew that I had brought him up in my writings. He knew many of the things that I’ve written about. And he’s heard some of these stories indirectly in one way or the other.

But he’d never directly read it. Until now.

I don’t know specifically why he waited until now.

But what I do know is that I’d never considered what would happen if someone took the time out to read each one of these stories back-to-back-to-back and the repercussions it could have on both parties.

Do regret anything I’ve written? PFFFFFT! Not so much! This is my personal journey of singledom and it’s the truth. Whether they happened 5 minutes or 5 years ago…it’s the truth.

But the moments, details and people that are insignificant to me can mean volumes to someone else. Two words: Snowglobe Shaken!

Now I’m exposed.

I’m all in, cards are on the table and I’m showing my hand. He can see everything I’ve got. But at this point in the game, he still has the opportunity to fold.

The Big Bang Theory

Evolution  – 1) any process or formation of growth. 2) a process of gradual, peaceful, progressive change or development. 3) a gradual development, especially to a more complex form.

“Gradual and peaceful” pffffft! Not so much….”more complex form”, now that I can agree with.

As you know, (and if you don’t please scroll down a bit) I recently jumped off the diving board and dove into the thought process surrounding my wants vs. my needs. While jumping into the deep end, however, I also forgot that I don’t know how to swim <——True story!

So here I am….drowning….and not a single Baywatch babe in sight to rescue me. The only life raft in sight is being pioneered by none other than “the guy I need,” *pause for effect*……. Engulfed in the madness that are my thoughts and drenched in the feelings that I refuse to feel, I climbed aboard.

A split second of air returned to my lungs and just before I passed out, I had enough time to see that “the guy I need”, has now evolved into “the guy that I want”.

FUUUUUCCCKKKK! I didn’t see this one coming! My wants and my needs have now evolved into something, better yet, someone unexpected. A more, “complex form”.

Unless we’re talking about a slice of white chocolate raspberry truffle cheesecake, it seems nearly impossible to live in both worlds. How is it possible to have the things that you want cleverly hidden within the things that you need?

Evolution – 4) a process of continuous change from a simpler or worse, to a higher, more complex, or better state. 

As things continue to evolve, I suppose I can only find myself in a “better state”.

I mean, Webster’s can’t be wrong, can it?