i'm no meteorologist

I once kissed this guy and lost all track of time.

At some point he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He opened them again and slowly turned to face me, looking me right in the eye he said, "wow, when it rains it pours." He shook his head slightly as he said this and gave me a little smile out of one side of his mouth. Then, we both pretended as if he had never said it.

That kiss launched what would be a year and a half relationship. It was a relationship filled with wonderfully good times and some I'd rather forget.

I really liked him and a small part of me might even admit that I loved him. I chose to ignore what he really meant that night in July when he talked to me about raining and pouring. It took a year and a half, but the reality of what he said on that first night was the final nail in the coffin we built for ourselves.

In the end, he was right though. When it rains...it definitely does pour. I thought about him tonight. I thought about what he said because it is pouring in my world right now. But, I am welcoming it.

While can I hear the rain and thunder outside my apartment right now...I'm not talking about the weather and neither was he. We just speak of very different rain.

you didn't get away...i let you go

It's been coming up with increased frequency lately...the one that got a way. This theme of being reminded of my "one" started a few weeks ago over drinks with a friend. Then, I came across a picture of him in the background of some group shot on a friend's Facebook page. And yesterday, I swore I saw him in a little vintage shop. I even doubled back and looked again. It was his twin. Or him. Who knows. I walked away not even knowing totally if it was him or not. I can pretty much promise it wasn't. He doesn't live in Chicago as far as I know. But, it sure looked like him. He has popped up in my dreams and his name appears places. He is haunting me.

It is funny. The idea of "the one that got away." That person is romanticized. You remember only the loveliest of qualities and times. You remember the way they did cute stuff like call you on your way home from work to say they really wanted to make you dinner...if that was okay with you. Or, wink at you across a crowded room to let you know that you might as well be the only two people there. Stuff like when they kissed you it was as if the world didn't exist but in your kiss. How they told you they were proud of you. Or said you were the most favorite friend. You forget about when they dropped off the face of the earth for days at a time. Or how they couldn't say certain words that you needed to hear. You push from memory that they wouldn't come to your family Christmas party. Or that there was a time when you weren't the only one in the room or their heart. You forget all the bad and remember the stuff that makes your heart skip a beat.

But, today as I walked away from that little shop still not knowing if it was him, I thought of something. He wasn't "the one" that got away. I was. Your "one" doesn't get away. They are the one for a reason. They aren't perfect, but they surely don't break your heart in a way that if they ever came back...they wouldn't fit in it anymore.

This isn't a sad realization. It was almost exciting. The whole concept of having one that gets away is a fallacy. No one gets away if they are suppose to be there.

ey, ey

I love my friends. And, I love their stories because they definitely add value to my life.

My best friend has been dating her boyfriend for almost six years now. Wow, I just now realized when I typed it that it had been that long. Anyway, as would happen in a six year relationship they have discussed children once or twice. (And by once or twice I am sure the numbers are up there in the hundreds because come on people...it has been almost six years.) Anyway, besides the normal hesitation about children there has been one hurdle she has felt needed to be overcome before ever seriously going down the baby road. And, it isn't marriage or joint home ownership as you may think. Nope. It is....

Captain. Don't be fooled into thinking that it is alcohol she doesn't want to give up. Truth be told, that will be a hurdle in and of itself. Yet, alcohol is not the problem. No, no, my friends...it is Captain. As in a name. As in Captain Edwards...the name her boyfriend has proclaimed will be that of his first born son. Captain. Captain, of what? Life I guess. Captain. That's right. Like the child's name would be, Captain. A name, I don't even know I would use for a dog. Captain.

Good news though. She recently spent a long weekend with her boyfriend at the beach and the topic of children's names came up. When asked what he wanted to name children one day, he responded, "I don't really know. I haven't given it serious thought." Which was a secret victory for my friend and for their future child.

Looks like Captain went out to sea never to be heard from again. We hope, at least, because I am NOT calling any baby Captain.

a pee in your pants kind of love

Emily from Emphasis Added! posted this on her blog...cutest thing ever!

This may just be the cutest thing I've ever seen. Apparently, this couple has been married for 62 years (he is going to be 90 years old this year) and they are still getting into trouble and having fun with one another. They walked into the Mayo Clinic for a checkup, spotted this piano, and got down to business.

I used to worry about love. I didn't think it really existed. I didn't trust it. And, I lied and said things like, "I don't believe in true love." Or, "I don't really want to get married." The truth is, I desperately want to believe in love. I want to trust love. And, I want to get married. You see, what I was doing by saying those false statements was masking my fear. I'm scared of love in a way. I don't trust it because I know that love can be amazing and powerful, but it can also be hard and painful. Also, as a single woman I feel this pressure to be independent and reject a pining for love. I don't want to be "one of those girls." Whoever they are. Those girls who talk about falling in love and getting married and plan their wedding before a groom even enters their life. I just don't want to be "her." However, I am slowly learning and accepting that it is okay to be both independent and want love. It is okay to say out loud that I want to be loved, that I want to be married, and that it scares me at the same time. It just isn't okay to push it away anymore just because it terrifies me.

I want to be part of that couple that is married for 60+ years getting into trouble and making a scene because of we love being silly together. I want people to think and write about how they want a love like the one I share with my husband. I want to never stop talking and having fun. I want to stay young as I grow older with my partner. I want to play the piano at the Mayo clinic and pee my pants because I am laughing while I do it. (Come on, you know she was peeing a little...it happens.) I want that. I want what they have. Love.

I just need to learn to play the piano first.

mission accomplished

So, remember this post about that guy who sent me a facebook message saying he didn't want to see me anymore (the day I was laid off of work)? If so, you probably remember this post about when I drunk text said dude and it resulted in a conversation that resulted in drinks. Well, drinks were had.


I went into this drinking summit with very defined boundaries. Friends. Even though my gut instinct told me that I already had too many friends and did not need to add this dude to the roster. Damn gut. Right?

Anyway, we met up for drinks at my favorite bar in the city. I wanted the home field advantage. This particular bar is small, but not too small. It is in Wrigleyville, but is not like a Wrigley bar. And, it has board games. Love. It.

I arrived five minutes later per the usual. He had already ordered me a drink. We had to stand for a while because it was packed, but I poached a table and we sat down mid drink two. We had a good time. Conversation was easy. We played Master Mind and I was a total fucking mind reading rockstar. He sucked, which gave me more pleasure than it should have. After that, we played Guess Who? and somehow I lost a round...not because he guessed first but because I messed up somewhere along the way. Not even sure how that happens. I think the game is suitable for like two year olds.

So, the good stuff? There wasn't really until the next day. We left the bar and got some pizza after having way too much to drink for having not had dinner. He had paid for all of our drinks despite my protests, but I paid for the pizza just to be clear...this wasn't a date. After pizza he got on the El and I walked home. Mission Friendship accomplished.

Well, it was about as accomplished as the time another (not so friend of mine) declared his "mission" accomplished.

The next day I get this text:

"I feel really bad about this because I like you and I wanted to give this a second try. I just don't feel like the chemistry is right with us. I wish it was...because you're such a great girl."

I don't even know how to fully verbalize what I thought at this point. Now, I never responded to his facebook I don't think we should see each other anymore message. There was nothing to say. This, however, pissed me the fuck off. This was my reply:

"Seriously? I am sort of blown away that you thought this was a second try sort of thing. We went for drinks because you asked if we could and I assumed it was as friends. Had I thought you were hoping it would be more than that I would not have gone. A second chance was never an option even if you thought there was chemistry."

Apparently you can.

Just Say No

For you to be able to grasp the full effect of this post I'm going to ask that you read this: My First Blog Post Ever.

It is very important that you read that first because if you don't you won't understand why you are shaking your head back and forth and giving me that "really emily? really?" look upon reading this post.


I have a habit. Or, affinity for engaging in some late night calling or texting. Not the dirty kind...just the "I might not remember this in the morning" kind. I don't really discriminate. I will contact anyone. If you are saved in my phone, you are fair game. Be warned now. Block me or something.

Anyway, I attended several holiday functions over this past month or two. Many of these functions involved lots of holiday cheer, which I consumed. So, we appropriately queue late night calling and texting at this point. What's the harm you say? A sibling? A best friend here? An old roommate there? Nothing really. Totally harmless. Right? Wrong.

Real fast, I'm just going to say that they really should devote some time in DARE teaching kids about the dangers of drinking and dialing. Maybe Nancy Reagan will jump on board and do some Just Say No shit. She was all over that in the 80's. (P.S. I did just have to google Nancy Reagan to make sure she was still alive and available for said Just Say No campaign. Turns out she is. Also turns out that her real name is Anne Frances Robbins. Like, for real. I'm feel a little duped, Nancy Reagan. If that is even your real name...oh wait, IT ISN'T!)

Anyway, let's fast forward to the part where I discovered that douchebag's (mentioned in the post that you were required to read earlier) phone number wad still saved in my phone. That's right...we're going down that road. Totally text him. Four months later. No communication since said facebook message...not even a response. Yep. Who is awesome now?

Making matters worse, he responded the next day. Later that night he had his roommate try to pull some grammar school sleep over tactic on me as he text me and was all "who is this? I have your number saved in my phone, but no name. I'm trying to figure out if I should delete you." His fatal move was disclosing his real name when I responded, "who is this?" Yep, my next text was, "My guess is you can delete me. My other guess is that your roommate got a text from me last night and doesn't know who I am so he asked you to text me to try and figure it out instead of doing it himself." I totally felt like a rockstar and wanted to high five myself for that one. Douchebag immediately text me apologizing. He somehow tricked me into an hours worth of text exchanges during which he apologized like ten times and got me to agree to meet up for drinks some time which I thought would never really happen but as it turns out "some time" is actually Sunday night. (Imagine that last sentence said in one breath. No breaks. Fast like ripping off a band-aid.)

Yeah, you can shake your head. "Really Emily? Really?"

old chapters

I've written before about privacy and how it has evolved in our lifetime. I don't know my neighbors' names. I never even met them. I mean, clearly if I had met them I would have an answer to what was up with all the vomiting that happens next door. But, alas, I've never met nor do I know anything about them. Not one thing. Well, besides all the vomiting. What I do know are the stories of people I've never met before. I knew when Georgina found out she was pregnant with a girl. I knew when David decided to return to life as a manwhore. I knew when Lilu's B peed on the cat. I knew when Lexa was called a glorified secretary. And, I know a lot more...about a lot of other people....people I've never met before. All compliments of our friend the interweb.

Problem is, I also know a lot about people I have met. I know stuff I never wanted to know. And, it was a couple of weeks ago that the book of faces let me down again by allowing me to find out information I never needed to know.


I'm not quite sure why it bothered me so much. But, as soon as I saw it I immediately shut the laptop. Apparently shutting the laptop would make it go away. I looked around as if to find out if anyone else saw what I saw. Why book of faces? Why? Why did you allow this to pop up on my news feed?

I had never been in a relationship like the one I was in with him. I hated and loved him with more intensity then anyone I had ever met before. I believe the feeling was mutual. We were too young and too intense. We fought. We saw each other way too often. We probably made each other miserable. And, we couldn't get enough of each other. I remember one night we were in a bar and his friend turned to me and said, "He really does love you. I don't know what he would do without you. He seriously loves you more then you know." The funny thing was that we were celebrating my new job. My new job in another city. The new job I looked for, in another city, to get away from him. He was toxic for me.

It was the intensity that I loved though. It was the intensity that caused this seemingly short lived romance to live way beyond its shelf life.

He use to say we were going to be together forever. He would talk about our children and the kind of mother I would be to them. He told me he loved me and never wanted to be without me. He said he was more in love with me each morning when he woke up next to me...on account of my messy hair and snuggly nature. He drank more then any person I knew. He lied when I confronted him about cheating on me. He never introduced me to his mother. He turned away from me when I cried. And, he left when he promised he would be in the waiting room when I got out.

He cemented my fears that people would turn away from me. He made my suspicions reality. He made me feel more unlovable than I thought possible.

It was years ago. And, I wasn't perfect. I didn't deserve to be treated as I was, but I didn't treat myself well either. I kept returning. I went back for more. I forgave and pretended to forget. I looked the other way and only discussed my concerns for him in anger. He was young. He was hurting his body in ways I didn't even allow myself to acknowledge. His choices were clouded by abuse that he put his body through. It wasn't a free pass. He should not receive a pardon for it, but I should have rested my case and given in. I should have stopped looking for love from someone who couldn't even treat themselves well.

The announcement of his marriage made me sad. Sad that I allowed myself to be hurt so badly by someone. Sad that he didn't want to treat me better. Sad that I believed the untruths I told myself in response to his behavior. Sad that I couldn't "win" by appearing to come out on top.

The sadness faded though. I reminded myself we were young. He hurt me, but I don't believe it was intentional. We didn't know how to treat each other. And, I probably hurt him as well. He wasn't a terrible person. He was funny. He was loyal. And, he could be incredibly loving when he wanted to be. It wasn't me. We just didn't work. And, we were kids. We needed to grow up. Move away. Make more mistakes. And learn to love ourselves.

So, I sent him a message. I told him that he looked really happy and I congratulated him. He didn't respond and I think I am okay with that. In the past I would have been crushed by his lack of response. I had and still have this strong desire to be on good terms with him. He once occupied space in my heart and a piece of him will always remain a tenant. But, relationships don't get their loose ends tied up nicely. The frayed ends linger until you can accept them and understand why the end is much harder to define then the beginning. An email would not have given me closure because what I realized was that I found it long ago. He will always hold a place in my life story, but I am chapters beyond what we were. I got closure long ago. I was just reminded that it comes in your heart and not an email or a moment in time.

The other plus about having closure is that today I can totally laugh when I retell the story about how he peed in my bed. And how I told the dry cleaner that the dog peed on my down comforter because I didn't quite know how to say, "my boyfriend peed on this" and look her in the eye. Let's hope he has learned to keep his drinking bladder under control or that he and his new wife registered for a plastic mattress protector. Bitchy much? Yes, yes I am.

i don't like it...

So, I feel like we are in need of some nonsense around here. Those last posts seemed really heavy. I leave you with this:

I wrote a post (#2: Jump Right in...) a while back about the guy who asked me to be his girlfriend on the second date. He was not the best catch I even caught. No relationship should begin with you wondering if your new partner roofied you or not. Sadly, this one did.

What I failed to discuss in that post about him was how things actually ended. Amazing. It's about the only word that I have for it.

We went downtown to see the fireworks for the 4th of July. More accurately, we went to the lake. I grew up by the ocean and always watched the fire works from the beach. It seems ludicrous to watch them anywhere but by the water. Anyway, we watched the fire works and drank Captain and Diet Dr. Pepper out of Nalgene bottles. (side note: I do not like Diet Dr. Pepper. Despite what the commercials will tell you, it tastes nothing like regular Dr. Pepper or any dessert I've ever tried. I did not choose to pollute Captain with Diet Dr. Pepper. The guy for whom I was about to end things with did. He said, "I know what my Baby likes." Never could a statement be less true...I was not his Baby nor did he know what I liked.) So, yes, fireworks and alcohol in Nalgene bottles. I ended up drinking a lot. A lot. He tried to talk about meeting my family. I tried to drink as much as I could.

We went back to his place after the fireworks. The fireworks were over...in more way than one. He ended up passing out and I was left laying next to him. I am not sure whether it was all the Captain Morgan or the artificial sweetener, but I was in a mood. I immediately began crying. Yep, laying in bed next to passed out dude...crying. I managed to get up, grab my phone, and make my way onto the balcony. I promptly called my dear friend and said, "Molli, I don't like it." She tried to ask clarifying questions, but apparently all I could do was repeat, "I don't like it." Awesome. I there I sat in a tank top and panties on the balcony of some dude's apartment crying on the phone. Because she is an awesome friend she said, "Get up now. Grab your stuff and cab over here. I am at a party. You need to get out of there." I explained that I had no money and because she is amazing she said, "I will pay the cab driver when you get here. You just need to get out of there." Brilliant idea. Seriously, it was some amazing advice.

I didn't want to be totally rude. After all, I was up and leaving him in the middle of the night. Leaving a note was the least I could do. One problem. The boy had no paper in his apartment. Literally, no paper anywhere. I looked. Really hard. I just couldn't not leave a note though, so I did what any reasonable person would do. I tore off a piece of the Dr. Pepper fridge pack and wrote, "I'm sorry. I just can't do it. I had to leave."

That's right boys and girls. I ended things with a note on a torn off piece of a Dr. Pepper fridge pack.

(If you are totally horrified, it might be good to note that I did end up talking to him later and properly ended things. Those details are just not as interesting. Hopefully I've renewed some faith you had in me.)

Collections

I was recently at a friend's house and he went into the other room, leaving me alone for a second to look around. Everything was neatly in its place. Everything was practical. His place is not empty by any means, it is comfortable and warm and very nicely styled. There are awesome little works of art on his walls. A sentimental photo or two. But, it was all very minimal. Clean.

I look around my room as I type this and am almost embarrassed to list out some of the things in my direct line of sight (a stuffed gall bladder, a wooden letter E, a Zack Morris phone, a snow globe of NYC, an Eiffel Tower, a Chilean three legged good luck pig). My room is by no means minimal. I have weird gadgets and whatnot. I'm like the Ariel (The Little Mermaid) of the studio apartment world. I have "treasures" all over my place. I am a collector. A collector of all things.

I know that the timing of this post doesn't hep the whole "I am not a hoarder" argument, as it comes dangerously on the heels of the In My Bed post. But really, I am not a hoarder. I just collect things, which I get is probably the same argument they use. But really, I'm not. Hoarder I am not. Collector I am.

This practice I have of collecting is not discriminatory. No, no, my friend. I don't just collect items in my apartment. I also collect friends and exes and a whole host of other things as well.

I guess this whole topic also comes up because I was having dinner with a friend tonight and we were discussing how to end relationships that are toxic. It's hard. I think I have shared quite a bit about my view on friendships, dating relationships, etc. I know you may have gotten a skewed version of me if you simply read about my bad dating experiences and how I walked away from those so easily. Don't be fooled though. I put my heart into stuff. I will give all of my soul to fix and mend things...even when it isn't mine to mend...meaning that I have many times in the past taken on fixing the wrong doings of others and have taken on some of the responsibility and burden that comes with "breaking" things. I collect the relationship in my heart. The person. I don't know how to let it go sometimes.

I'm doing much better at purging the bad stuff in my life than I used to. I guess you could say that I am becoming more selective on what it is that I collect and place sentimental value on. When something becomes toxic in your life, it is okay to walk away from it. This is a lesson I've learned with time. With lots of time. Walking away doesn't mean that the thing or the relationship or the person didn't have value at one time. That it wasn't the best thing for you...at one time. But, time moves on and things change. Things evolve. Short of Alzheimer's or serious head trauma, memory of relationships or treasured possessions can't be taken away. I've had relationships that meant so much to me, but what I've learned or had to learn was that ending them is sometimes the best and healthiest thing. Cutting ties doesn't mean that at one point in time they weren't important. They just can't live on and hold the same value for all time. Things change. Not having them in my life anymore doesn't cheapen the past. It doesn't make it disappear. It will hold a special place forever in my history, but it needs to live there...in my past.

I know this is a little all over the place, but I guess the point is to say that as I've come to realize with relationships the same can hold true for personal possessions as well. I can purge belongings from my life and not strip them of their one time importance.

So, I'm not suddenly going to become completely minimalistic. I'm not going to have a closet that will ever just have clothes, shoes, and maybe a box or two. I will always have stuff under my bed and knick knacky stuff on my shelves, but perhaps I will move forward with caution about what I choose to keep. Perhaps I will purge a little. Perhaps I will realize I don't need to hang on to that t-shirt from the company softball team from a company I don't even work for anymore. Perhaps I will realize that while I loved trolls as a kid, I don't need my entire collection as an adult. (don't tell my mom that though because it lives at her house and I am not quite there yet....this is all hypothetical)

I guess I just got to thinking after looking at my friends apartment and talking over dinner tonight:

If I make room by getting rid of some of the collections I don't really need to hold on to except in memory, what good things will I be making room for in my life?


And, just because I know you are wondering...below is a picture of my amazing stuffed gall bladder. It was a gift from a dear friend who knows that I needed one given that my original gall bladder was surgically removed.

#1: The Biggest Loser

I have to admit that I struggled with who to give the coveted Worst Date Ever award to. I've had so many winners...and by winners I totally mean losers. It wasn't all that the guys were losers. They weren't. Some of them were, in fact, very nice. We were just very not right for each other. Unfortunately, I've gone out on more dates that were bad than were good. I guess it would make sense though given that I am neither married or in a long term relationship. This is also not to say that I haven't gone on some amazingly wonderful dates. I have had my fair share, but it is always more fun to talk about the terrible ones in hide sight than the ones that made me go home and talk to my best friend and tell her how much I really liked the guy. This is also because I (to date) have not ended up with said guy, so I feel I have license to spill about the bad ones.

Anyway, as I was saying, I struggled to come up with Worst Date Ever. I really was leaning toward the date that ended with the guy telling me that I made him feel like a prostitute. Real fast, we had gone on several dates. I was never quite sure about him. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something not right. What I realized after....well, I made him feel like a prostitute and we didn't see each other again was that he was trying to sleep with me hard core on each of our dates. The irony of all of this is amazing. On our first date he drove me home and then said he might be too drunk to drive. I said that it was good I live in a neighborhood where it is really easy to get a cab. He then asked if I had a couch he could sleep on. I wasn't buying it. I responded, "not one you can sleep on." The second date we went to a show and went back to his apartment. He again gave the too drunk to drive excuse and said that I should just spend the night. No. I told him I was fine taking a cab. When he realized I wasn't budging, he agreed to take me home. On our third and final date we went out to dinner (it was BYOB and he brought a bottle of wine) and then went to a bar. He came up to my apartment and we did a little...adult stuff. Nothing crazy. It would just not be in a PG movie...or a PG-13 movie. I know it would make it into an R rated movie...they let anything go now a days. Anyway, midway through I started to realize I was very drunk and he needed to leave. I was not okay laying on the bathroom floor or resting my head against the toilet while he was there, so I told him he needed to leave. I apologized and said I really didn't feel good. Apparently my mistake was not throwing up in front of him to prove I didn't feel good. Despite another apology the next day and an explanation, he still said (and this is a direct quote), "for a second there, I kind of knew what it felt like to be a prostitute." Give me a break. Needless to say we didn't see each other again.

But no, he was not the Worst Date Ever. Close. But, he just gets an Honorable Mention. No, the Worst Date Ever happened on a little night called Election Night.

I have to make two disclaimers before I tell about this date:

1. If you are in anyway related to me, for both of our sake, stop reading and skip to the next post. This is information neither you nor me will be happy you know about. While I am not about to spread all my business up on the internet, it is still more than you need to know about me. I am still the sweet and innocent person you know me to be. Don't let this disclaimer cause you to think otherwise. I'm just saying. It is in our mutual best interest if you don't continue reading. And, I would like to be able to look you in the eyes (and vice versa) at future family functions. So, move ahead. You will thank me for the information you do not know.
   
2. This date perhaps was not the all time worst, but it goes on record for me as #1 because I will never be able to shake the memory of this date. It will haunt me. It will cause me to have to lie to my children. It is a moment in time I will never get to relive or experience. That's right...get ready.

We had been on a few dates at this point, but I have a habit of making dates on holidays. I don't even know how it happens. I guess since I don't have family that lives in town, I sort of skip over them in my mind. I end up making plans and then realizing it was a holiday. I've gone on dates on Easter, Father's Day, MLK Day, 4th of July (twice), Memorial Day, Labor Day, and Election Day.

I live in Chicago. I lived in Chicago during the 2008 Presidential Election. It was the most significant political moment of my lifetime. And, I was on a date. We went to dinner, but I had election fever and said I really wanted to get to a television to see the results as the polls came in. He obliged and we went to his apartment. His awesome apartment on like the 35th floor of a building with views of the Sear's Tower and the John Hancock Building. Just a few blocks away from Grant Park....where all the action was taking place.

When my children ask me where I was when the country elected our first African American President, what am I supposed to say? How do I tell them that I didn't really see it?

I will leave you with this very funny Saturday Night Live clip. Believe what you wish.

#2: Jump Right in...

Clearly there is a purpose to dating. For most people, there is an objective. As I typed that last sentence, I felt it important to recognize that the objectives of people can be very different...some could be looking for a free meal, others a relationship, or some could be looking for "a good time" if you know what I mean.

My objective, if you will, is companionship or maybe all of the above. It would be nice to find someone I enjoy spending time with. It would be even nicer if the feelings were mutual. So, I guess the hope is that we both like each other enough that we want to keep spending time together and something more develops. Now, I'm not one of those girls fantasizing about my wedding. I don't have some weird scrapbook with wedding dresses cut out and cakes and flowers that I like. No, I didn't start imagining my wedding when I was five. It's just not me. That isn't to say that I don't want to get married one day. I do. I like the idea of loving someone for the rest of my life...and vice versa. But, I also am not in the wedding race that some people my age seem to have entered.

Oh, and let's be clear...this race is not exclusive to women. No, no my friend. Men have taken their number and put on their running shoes in this race to the alter. Exhibit A:

Our first date was fun. We went for drinks and tapas. We had good conversation and some good chemistry. We hopped around from bar to bar for a little while and on our last stop we sat at a table, he tucked my hair behind my ear telling me how much he enjoyed being with me and gave me a kiss. It was sweet. He offered to walk me home, but only after he asked me to come over and "watch a movie." Cute right? It was about 1am. We ain't watchin' no movie. I was very proud of my self control when I said, "No," because at this point I was feeling somewhat intoxicated. He walked me to the door, kissed me some more, asked if he could come in, I said no, and he left...saying he would call me. What happened next was weird. It was morning. Right, one minute I am saying goodbye and the next memory I have is waking up...in my roommate's bed. (She was out of town.) I have no idea how I got there or why I was in there. My jewelry was on her dresser. It looked as if I walked in like I owned the place and just went to bed. Odd, right? In hind sight, I was probably roofied because I didn't have THAT much to drink and I've only blacked out once in my life...and I learned my lesson. This was not drinking black out.

Regardless, we went out again. I make poor choices. I think I said that before.

On our second date we went to this awesome restaurant and had a pretty good time. Although, he did ask me some odd questions about kids, when I wanted to have them, etc. Later in the night I agreed to go back to his place for a drink. Just a drink. Gosh boys and girls, I am a lady. We just kissed. I think.

But, sitting on his couch kissing was when it happened.

Date: I really like you.

Me: Thanks.

Date: No, I really like you. I've had a good time with you.

Me: I know. Thank you. I've had fun hanging out with you too.

Date: Like, I want you to be my girlfriend. What do you think of that?

Me: Uhm. Thanks. But, you don't really know me.

Date: Is there something I should know?

Me: Yeah. Do you even know my last name?

Date: Well, no. But, I know that I really like you and want to date just you.

Me: I'm not trying to be bitchy, but you don't know me enough to want me to be your girlfriend. You may get to know me better and change your mind...I may change my mind. Let's just get to know each other.

Date: It's just that I really like you.

Me: Thanks. But...

Date: So, no girlfriend.

Me: No girlfriend right now.

I get that it seems like perhaps he was just trying to sleep with me. Maybe he thought that would work on me. Clearly it didn't. But, I don't think that was the case. It became apparent that he was serious. Just wait.

As stated before, as stated before I sometimes make really bad choices. We continued to see each other and his push toward a serious relationship continued. His jealousy kicked in too at some point. He made weird comments about my roommates- two of whom were guys. Saying weird stuff, like how I should lock my door at night because they were probably trying to sleep with me. P.S. They weren't. He would also make comments about waiters or guys at bars. Oh, and not even a month in he made some comment about me fitting in nicely with his family...who I had not met.

Shortly afterwards I ended things with him. It all got too weird. The potential roofie incident. The asking me to be his girlfriend on the second date. The jealousy. The projections about "our" future. We didn't have a future.

Perhaps he wasn't racing to the alter, but he was racing for a commitment of some sorts from me. And, it freaked me out. I took some time off after him to figure out if it was the commitment that freaked me out. Or was it him? In the end, I realized that it was clearly him.

I spent some time feeling bad. Like, perhaps I should have jumped at the opportunity to be in a relationship. But why is it not okay to be alone? Why did I even make myself feel guilty for choosing to be single over entering a bad relationship? I like being single most of the time. And, I'm not going to suit up for the relationship race. I'll walk thank you. Get over it.

#3: Small Bar...Long Date

In the movies people on dates always have some escape plan. They have a friend call and they answer it stating there has been some emergency and they need to leave. There are a few flaws with this plan:

1. It's pretty rude to answer your phone mid date. And, your date will be clued in to the fact that you aren't giving them your full attention if you are answering calls from anybody and everybody.
   
2. You would have to be pretty comfortable lying because it's got to be something really off the wall to require you to leave in the middle of the date.
3. You also have to be comfortable with your date knowing deep down you are lying....because seriously, you didn't forget an appointment or your roommate doesn't need you home for some emergency...

So you see, while in theory it seems like a flawless plan to have an out in the event that a date isn't going so well...it isn't practical. Which leads me to the longest date ever.


Okay, it wasn't the actual longest. I've oddly been on some marathon dates. Longest date at this point has been 9 hours. (I know. Don't ask.) Anyway, this date just seemed to drag on forever because I didn't have an out. And, going by the flaws listed above in the escape plan, I'm not so good at #3. I don't know how to make an exit. I don't know how to wrap things up when they aren't going well. To this guys credit, he wasn't terrible. I just wasn't feeling it.

We met up at this bar in Chicago, which is supposedly the smallest bar in the city- Matchbox. It is teeny tiny. No room inside. It is basically- wall, bar, stools, wall. There was an outside area, which we sat in. For the record, I don't like sitting outside. For the sake of trying to keep a hold on my rambliness, I will go over that at a later date.

Anyway, we sat down at about 5pm and ordered drinks. I knew right away there was no connection at all. I felt like I was on an interview or something, which generally means you don't want to make out afterwards. We talked about all kinds of first date stuff- where we were from, where we went to school, what jobs we have done, etc. I was out of topics of conversation. It was about 5:30pm or 6pm. I was hoping he was feeling the same way because there was no sake in continuing this. No. He said, "Let's order food. I am starving."

What do you do? How do you tell someone you aren't having a good time and that a free meal isn't even worth staying? Do you stay?

In my case I did. To save you on the long drawn out details, I will share that the date continued until 10pm. I lost all filter and didn't follow rules on "things that shouldn't be discussed on a first date." We talked about gross youtube videos, throwing up, seeing eye ponies, conjoined twins, kittens, nose bleeds, traveling, Fraggle Rock, and a lot of other ridiculousness.

When the meal was over, drinks were drank, and we still sat there...it verged on miserable. I would like to believe that he too was wanting to leave, but neither of us knew quite how to make an exit. Perhaps it is the Achilles heel of being too polite. Eventually at 10pm, I felt it was reasonable to say, "Man, I should go home. I have to be at work early tomorrow." That just didn't seem like an option at 8pm. He quickly agreed.

I'm not sure we hugged. We definitely didn't kiss. We said goodbye and both knew, we weren't going out again. I'm pretty sure it was the throw up talk that tipped the scales. And, I'd like to take credit for that one.

#4: All You Can Eat is never sexy

Dear potential suitors,

Please take note of the details of this date...and do the opposite of everything that went down. The outcome will be better for both of us.

Sincerely,
emily


How excited was I got a call from my date two days prior to when we were supposed to go out and he asked if I wanted to go to a Cubs game? Very excited. Okay, I wasn't over the moon excited. There is nothing wrong with the Cubs, I'm not saying that...it is just that since moving to Chicago I have been very spoiled in the the Cubs game attendance arena. My former roommate has season tickets and also sells shares of his games to friends. I split a share with another former roommate, which has resulted in my ability to attend many many games. Regardless, it is always a fun experience and a cool date. So, I was excited.

We made plans to meet at a bar before the game. Pre-game it a little. I called as I was on my way and he said we could grab a few drinks at the bar before "moving on." As the first inning was wrapping up I became slightly curious of when we would begin the long walk across the street to Wrigley seeing as how we had tickets and all and it didn't make much sense to watch the game on TV- tickets in hand. Right? Didn't "moving on" mean "to the game?" But, I'm not one to complain (at least not to someone I don't know really well....friends or complete strangers...all bets are off), so I didn't say anything and I slowly sipped my beer. He ordered another. He rambled on about how he worked for his dad, but didn't really do much. He said that he "worked from home," but did very little work. He continued by stating that he never woke up before 10am. None of this is terrible. I mean, I wouldn't brag to a date about doing "nothing" for a living, but whatever. And, I would love to sleep in forever. The weird turn came when he started talking about how much money he made a year and how his parent's bought his house for him.

Two things:

1. I don't care how much you make. Really. I don't. I'm not one of those girls. I mean, that's cool for those girls who want to be those girls. A guy will just never impress me with his bank account or material possessions. Just don't talk about it. I might like you less if you do...in fact, I will.

2. After bragging about how much money you earn, how about we not mention Mommy and Daddy still buy you stuff...especially when that stuff is a HOUSE!

Back to the date.

Mid-way through the second inning I couldn't help myself.

me: So, were we going to head over to the game?"

date: Oh, no. I couldn't get tickets for a good price. Some guy was trying to sell them for like $90 and I'm not going to buy tickets for $90. Someone else offered me two rooftop tickets for like $110, but even if it is all you can drink and all you can eat. I'm not paying that much. I can get tickets for much cheaper.

me: (in my head) If you could get tickets for much cheaper why didn't you? AND, could you stop with the money talk? Just say it was crazy expensive and apologize. Oh, and another thing, why didn't you say that we didn't have tickets right away or when I called you on the way home from work?

me: (out loud) Oh, that's fine. Don't even worry about it. (fake smile. fake smile.)

date: (not quite sure because I was getting annoyed) I love where I live. It's so close to Wrigley....charge people to park....make lots of money...blah blah blah...money. blah blah blah

After having another drink we decide to grab something to eat. The date proclaims that the drinks are too expensive at the bar and he doesn't want to pay that much for draft beer. Classy.

We decide to go eat sushi and this awesome little place near my house, which also turned out to be near his house. Because let the awesomeness continue...he lived one street over from me. Yep, ladies and gentleman, same house number and everything. One street over.

We get to the restaurant and date sees a sign for all you can eat sushi $29 a person. He proclaims that we should order the all you can eat sushi. I explain that I'm not all that hungry and I am not sure I can eat $29 worth of sushi. He doesn't listen. He orders it anyway. Oh, and when the server tells us that we have to eat everything we order of they will charge extra...I begin to freak out. He starts the ordering. When I suggest a spicy tuna roll he says that it is not expensive enough and we "really need to get our monies worth." Ohhhhh-kay. So he goes on an ordering spree. Gyoza, miso soup, veggie eggrolls, monster sushi rolls, beef teriyaki over rice...the order went on and on. I ate and ate and ate. All to a sound track of "you have to keep eating. We have to get our monies worth." Really? When I believe I ate my weight in raw fish and rice I waved the white flag. I couldn't do it anymore. And, one person is not suppose to get that stuffed....forced to get that stuffed on a date! He ate the remainder of the food. You know, don't want to be charged extra. It was terrible.

As I waddled back to my place...and his place as well he asked me to come see his house. I think it was the food coma that stopped me from even having the energy to say no. He walked me from room to room to show me his huge flat panel TVs...in every room. Bedroom, living room, dining room, kitchen....BATHROOM. Not impressed. And, I think he finally got the hint because he stopped pointing them out midway through. He walked me out onto his deck and began to talk about the awesome barbeques he could have out there. He said, "You totally have to come over and we'll barbeque some time." Right.

He offered to walk me home, but I told him I would be okay. He gave me a hug and said he would call me so we could go out again.

He did.

I didn't answer.

I didn't eat the next day either.

#5: Mr. Personality

It was the kind of date that you go to work the next day and attempt to recreate the awfulness for your coworkers. There is one slight problem. You can't stop laughing. It is that sort of laugh that actors get when filming a funny scene. The production assistant has to keep coming into the frame and saying, "take ten." You try to start over. You get a few words out, "Well, he picked me up and we ended up going to a b....I can't." Usually the "I can't," is indiscernible. You can't get it out. You stand up straight, smooth yourself out, take a deep breath, "okay. He picked me up and we ended up going to a ga...." And then the laughing happens again.

Fortunately for you, I can giggle and type so you (unlike my coworkers) will get the story in one piece sans bursts of laughter.

This date had all of the makings of a good date. We had talked for a little while, text, g-chatted...things seemed to be good. He totally made me laugh and I would like to believe that my quick wit made him laugh as well. We were originally going to go out on Wednesday, but Tuesday as I was out shopping for an outfit with a friend for the date I got a text. "My friend is out of the country and lost her passport. Long story. Wanna meet up tonight? I'm in your hood." Ahhh. No, I'm shopping for our date TOMORROW. I'm not ready. I'm not ready, right? Well, luckily for me (or perhaps unluckily...jury is still out) I have friends that have strong influence over me.

A tangent...we're not talking peer pressure, "Try it you'll like it," kind of influence. No. If everyone jumped off a cliff, I would be sad. I wouldn't be off said cliff with everyone. I've gone to great lengths in the past to not fall into the dangerous traps of peer pressure (queue some sappy after school special music). I will save the story about my cigarette smoking seventh grade friend for another day...let's just say I listened to Nancy Reagan and just said no.

Anyway, my friends make suggestions...that is what we will call it. And, I have a tendency to listen to them within reason. So, she said, "Oh, you are going tonight. You have clothes to wear at home. I'm taking you home to get ready. Text him back." It was a blur, I couldn't think. Or, that is what I will chose to remember. See, this was her fault. Yep, her's.

I text back that it would be okay. About forty five minutes later I was walking out my door to meet him. But this was going to be good, right? We were totally getting along. Well, we hadn't met yet...I forgot to mention that. But, all communication had been really good at this point so how could things not go well?

I will tell you.

It may be more fun to just give you snippets of the date. Tiny slices of what happened over the next few hours. You will get the point. And, you won't have to suffer through it.

• I met him and he said, "Hey," but in a way that was absent of personality. Yep, no personality...really, none. No inflection in his voice. Dry. We might as well have shook hands the way I do when I meet one of my parent's friends. The whole, we're never going to see each other again, but with a fake smile I nod my head and say, "It's nice to meet you."
  
• The venue. We had discussed dinner, but he said he would think of somewhere to go and he would choose. When I asked where we were going he dryly shared we were going to a gay sports bar. Let it soak in. This was a first date. He had no personality. (Sidebar, I've been to this bar before. I love me some gay bars, but they are usually attended with my gay friends...NOT FIRST DATES!)
• It was trivia night. It was movie trivia. I have seen like 20 movies. I can't even get started on that. But, I knew nothing. He practically rolled his eyes.
• He ordered garlic cheese fries as an appetizer.
• He named our trivia team after his friend- Jamie Lynne. I tried to make a joke about how Jamie Lynne Spears had just announced her pregnancy that day blah blah blah (she had...it was a while ago). He didn't know who she was. And didn't seem the slightest bit amused.
• He responded with one word answers to any of my questions. He didn't return the gesture of conversation making and ask any himself.
  
• He did share that he grew up raising falcons with his father. Perhaps a conversation piece? I mentioned Royal Tenebaums (my favorite movie...one character raised a falcon). He looked at me and said, "Oh, I hate that movie." After I shared that it was my favorite.
• We got the check and he asked if I wanted to get it or if I wanted him to get it. I suggested we split it.
  
• He drove me home.
  
• When we got to my house, he said, "I had a good time. We should do this again some time."

Yeah. I got nothing else, but a shit ton of laughing...still. Over a year later.

We never went out again.

let the countdown begin

So, I did some thinking last night about this past year. I'm not really sure why I felt that Labor Day weekend was the time for a "year in review," but I'm doing it anyway. Well, lots has transpired since last Labor Day weekend. I moved out of the orphanage (the house I shared with four other people...the name is self explanatory at that point), I got a studio, I lost my job, I got another tattoo, I had a plethora of out of town guests, and I went on some terrible terrible dates. What a better place to show case the terribleness of those dates than here? Hold onto your f'ing hats and grab your socks. I'm gonna knock them off.




That's right kids...this week we are going to count down the five worst dates in dating history.

Get excited!

being horizontal

So, I've been having trouble sleeping. Or, I've been having trouble going to sleep. And, in bed before 1am? Never happens. This is nothing that is a secret. I've blogged about it. And, if you are paying attention to the time stamps you are well aware of this anyway.

I talked to my doctor about it. He gave me this sleep program to follow to retrain myself. Basically, I need to pick a minimum sleep threshold and a time I want to wake up at. I can only be in bed for the minimum sleep threshold. so, if i want to sleep eight hours and wake up at 8am i am to get in bed at midnight. No matter how long it takes me to fall asleep I am suppose to get up at 8am. Eventually (or so he says) this will retrain me and put me back on a schedule. But, he strictly said, "You can not be horizontal for any other time during the day. No naps whatsoever."



I shared this with my mom. She responded, "What if you go on a date and want to have sex?"

"Ummmmm, ooookay. We're just going to pretend you didn't say that."

(The truth is though that I've made this same comment to most of my friends when discussing said sleep plan. I just don't need my mom to go there.)

there are two exits above the wing

Several years ago I went out for sushi with my older brother. I really love going out to eat with my brother. We get into some of the most interesting conversations. We sit for much longer than we actually need to and just talk. It may be a common trait of the men in my family. Well, those blood related to me. When I was little and my parents first divorced, my dad only took us out to dinner. He knew how to cook about three things...so, he just chose to take us out. Anyway, my brother, dad, and I would get into the best conversations. We would sit for hours after eating just talking. And, it is one of my favorite memories of the two of them. Not one particular time, but the practice of doing it. Something about being in a restaurant allowed us to be really open and honest and really talk. We would have these great conversations. We would always say we would continue them after we left the restaurant...when we realized that we were the only patrons left. But, it was never the same. I don't know. Something about sitting at the table. It may be like sitting in a puffy chair at a counselors office. You just become so incredibly honest and open to discussion.

Anyway, my brother asked me, "What is it that you want in a relationship?" See, I have terrible luck with guys. Mainly because I have terrible taste and have an affinity for putting up with what I do not deserve. So, my brother posed this question to me. After some thought, I responded, "Well, I want someone who will come after me if I walked out the door."

I was very proud of my response. It seemed incredibly romantic. I imagined someone loving me with such a passion that they would never want to let me go. They would go to the end of the earth to be with me. I would be what gave them life.

My brother looked at me and responded, "That's fucked up."

What? How could my romanticized idea of perfection be "fucked up?" Well, I couldn't let this question go unanswered...so, I asked.

My brother began by saying, "You shouldn't be walking out the door." He explained that me romanticizing a relationship in which I leave was not healthy. Surely he didn't understand. See, this was romantic. I would storm out of the room. My lover would chase after me and grab me by the arm (in a nonviolent way) and tell me why he couldn't live without me. We would kiss passionately and live happily ever after because we knew how much we loved one another. We would go to any length to be together. We would fight for our love. See. Very romantic. How could my brother not understand this?

He continued to discuss this "walking out the door issue." Apparently he felt like it was immature and a way to test the love of my partner. As if I would leave in the hopes of them following. My brother said that his hope for me was that I would never want to walk out the door.

I had to let this sink in for a second.

Why did I romanticize walking out on my partner? Why did I feel that having my partner chase after me once I left was the recipe for an ideal relationship? And again, why would I be walking out in the first place?

It has been years since that conversation, but I think I know some of the answers to the questions I had so long ago. No, it isn't because I've met Prince Charming. No one has swept me off my feet. But, what I do have is a little more understanding of myself.

It was never about me walking out the door. I thought it was. I thought that it would be so wonderfully romantic to have someone chase after me. No, it wasn't about that. it was about trusting that they cared. You see, wanting a man to chase after me was how I felt as if I would know for certain that they loved me. That if they came after me, surely they loved me.

So, it wasn't about me walking out the door, but me knowing and believing that I was loved. It's a hard thing to do. To fully embrace someone's love for you. Well, it is for me at least. And, I am not sure I even know how to do that today. I still don't trust with full certainty some love that should be unquestioned. It's a flaw. I know.

But, if I were to find myself at dinner with my brother again and he were to ask me about what I wanted in a relationship, I would have another answer for him. I would share that what I would want was security. Security in our love. Faith that nothing could break it. I would know at the core that I was loved. And, I would have a knowledge that it is never to be tested. Not in the way I use to want to test love. I would allow the love to happen. I wouldn't create situations to have my partner prove it to me. I would be there. And the man I am with would be there too. Fully present in the relationship. Ups and downs. There. No walking out. No bailing. Because it would be worth it. And, I would always know that there is no door to walk out. For either of us.

oh, i'm jumping on that bandwagon

so, i recently started this whole blog thing. one may not know it based off of the excessive number of posts i've made in the past few days; however, if one were truly following the blog one would know that i am unemployed and have more time than the average person on my hands.

anyway, i stumbled across a jewel of a blog today: The Rest is Still Unwritten. seriously, this dude is amazing. besides the fact that he is an amazingly raw, real, and emotional writer...he is super cute. but really, you don't even need to see his picture to love this guy. the way he writes and the things he says make you (or at least me anyway) want to be loved by him. perhaps i am crazy. all i'm sayin' is just read his blog before you judge.

he wrote this post where he shared 101 things about him. it was chock full of random facts about him...stuff most people wouldn't know. now, if you know me really well, you know that i have a book on my coffee table that is basically this same principle, "Dailey Dose of Emily." (P.S. the first entry is that i can not spell...i know that daily was misspelled.) but, i was inspired to write more. or to try to at least. perhaps there will be some repetition, but just as my new blog crush i will attempt to be completely honest...rolling funny, sad, shocking, scary, silly, and the like all into one.

1. i was voted Best Personality in high school, but i am afraid to go to my reunion because i don't think anyone will remember me. the truth is that i only really won because so many people got nominated that i was the one with the majority...it wasn't overwhelming though.

2. i have in irrational fear of peeing my pants. when a bathroom is not immediately accessible i suddenly have an overwhelming urge to pee. (for the record i have not peed myself in over two decades)

3. i remember the night we moved out of the house we shared with my dad. my mom's friend's yelled at me for having so much shit under my bed. really? was that the appropriate thing to do to a young kid who really didn't know they were moving?

4. i wanted a SkipIt so bad in third grade. all the cool girls had them on the playground.

5. i never got one.

6. i one upped them and got a boyfriend.

7. i get ridiculously excited about buying new panties and have spent more money at victoria's secret than i should admit to.

8. my mom didn't know that my new year's resolution in high school to "stop falling asleep on the bathroom floor" had nothing to do with me working late hours and everything to do with me smoking pot.

9. my brother, cousins, and i made up this story about a dead dog that was kept under the bed at my grandmother's house. we use to try to get my youngest cousin (who wasn't in on secret) to stick her hand down the side of the bed to touch it. we laughed when she wouldn't and started crying.

10. i've never cheated on someone.

11. i've been cheated on more times than i would like to think about.

12. i wonder if it is me or that i have terrible taste in guys.

13. i always won the sit and reach competition in school.

14. i secretly wouldn't mind being a stay at home mom.

15. my dad has told both my brother and i at one point that we were adopted. he probably kept the joke alive longer than necessary- neither of us really are adopted.

16. i am really good at fake crying.

17. i've always said that i would marry a guy if he bought me breyer's mint chocolate chip ice cream.

18. i go so far out of my way to make my partner happy that i probably turn them away.

19. my parents have told me that when i was a kid and we would eat at this one particular restaurant all i would order and eat was cole slaw

20. i have memories of cheating on a spelling test in first grade.

21. i memorized the homeless people on my route home from work and would get worried when i didn't see them...i was afraid something happened to them.

22. i went to europe for five weeks in college. i got really homesick even though i was with by brother and his best friend. and i did go to school anywhere near "home," so it didn't really make sense.

23. i've never ridden a horse.

24. i loaned an ex-boyfriend $500 to pay for his DUI lawyer because he couldn't stop drinking and save money. he never fully paid me back. surprise.

25. my heart melts when guys kiss me on my forehead.

26. i talked to my dog alfie as if he were going to respond.

27. i drank about a bottle and a half of vodka when we put him to sleep.

28. i still miss him.

29. when i see a large grassy hill or field i have this overwhelming urge to take off running toward it.

30. i giggle if someone farts in the stall next to me.

31. if i see something in a store that i like...i touch it.

32. i miss my brothers more than they know.

33. college was the first school i went to for more three years.

34. i got a tattoo with my best friend because we were eating breakfast and couldn't think of anything else to do that day.

35. i never throw away the fortunes from fortune cookies. i think it is bad luck.

36. i've spent the entire day in a towel watching tv because i was too lazy to put on clothes after a shower.

37. on two occasions i called in sick to work saying that the dog was throwing up...the dog was not throwing up.

38. i have no gall bladder, well, except for the stuffed one my friend bought me.

39. my heart still beats fast when i watch My So Called Life and Jordan Catalano grabs Angela's hand in the hallway so that everyone can see.

40. i once told a doctor i was 16 after he asked my age. i was 18. i don't even know why i said it.

41. it still makes me happy when Rerun jumps on the back of the truck at the end of the credits for What's Happening!!

42. i recognize it would make more sense for the punctuation after What's Happening to be a question mark, but the show uses two exclamation points.

43. i think i started experiencing major depression in high school. my parent's thought i was just being overly dramatic and perhaps i did too. all i know is that i couldn't make it stop.

44. my parents never talked about God at home, so i become really uncomfortable talking about him with other people. i just don't know if i think it is one of those things you should talk about or just let it be private.

45. out of stubbornness i peed in a trashcan because my older brother wouldn't get off of the toilet. i could have used another bathroom. (i was probably 7 years old for the record)

46. i bite the inside of my cheek when i am nervous.

47. after my first kiss the boy tried to do much more. he didn't care that i said no.

48. i have more pillows on my bed than any one person needs.

49. i really only use two to sleep with. i like the rest there to make the bed feel more full.

50. i started skiing when i was four years old.

51. i sometimes felt hypocritical working at a domestic violence shelter when i continued to ignore what happened in my own family.

52. i become more passionate talking about domestic violence than probably anything else i ever talk about.

53. i worry more than i let on that no one really loves me.

54. i moved to nashville because a boy broke my heart.

55. i told a boy i was dating he was gay...because he was. he cried and said he was scared. i held his hand.

56. he is my friend today, but i probably still love him.

57. i can drink most guys under the table.

58. i never turn down a free shot.

59. i started wearing a bra before any of the other girls in my class. i was really embarrassed about having boobs and didn't want anyone to know.

60. i still sometimes think my boobs are overwhelming.

61. i secretly find it sexy when guys smoke.

62. some of my most fond memories of my mom are from when she was sick and i would crawl in bed with her. i felt like she really needed and wanted me there.

63. some days i can't get out of bed. i would like to...i just don't know how.

64. i never told anyone how abandoned i felt after they said they would be there for me...and weren't. it was as if everyone left me alone at that doctor's office.

65. i feel much safer on a plane when the flight attendants are walking around. when i was younger and afraid to fly. i would push the attendant call button just to make them get up and walk over to me. i knew that if we were crashing they wouldn't do that.

66. i am almost always running low on or out of toilet paper.

67. i don't know how to whistle or snap my fingers.

68. i didn't dissect animals in middle school because the "cool" girls weren't doing it. i wasn't really all that grossed out.

69. i want to be swept off my feet by someone who loves me in a hoodie and yoga pants.

70. i give a pretty good back massage.

71. i know i really like someone if i'm not nervous to be naked in front of them.

72. i use to write fake diary entries when i was little because my stepsister wanted to read what i wrote.

73. i started watching soap operas when i was nine. i got hooked because my grandfather watched them. whenever we would see each other we would talk about the latest love triangles.

74. i've never had anyone really close to me die. i am terrified for it to happen.

75. i have a box labeled "stuff only i care about." it couldn't be more true.

76. i had a troll collection when i was a kid. it is rather embarrassing how large it was.

77. what is even more embarrassing is that i can't bring myself to get rid of any of them.

78. i've never stolen anything, well that i can remember.

79. i regularly wonder if my friends really like me because i have a hard time liking myself some times.

80. my hair gets really messy when i sleep and i call it chicken hair. my family has adopted the phrase and we use it as if it is a real word.

81. i always felt like i was compared to my older brother growing up and that i could never be as good as he was. i spent a lot of time trying to be like him but never feeling like i measured up. what i am now realizing is that there was no "as good as" because we are just different people...you can't measure us like that.

82. i am excited to move into an assisted living community one day. i can't wait to just hang out with my friends and do nothing.

83. i think breakfast for dinner is a cop out and when i have a family of my own i will not make them eat it.

84. there is nothing sexier than waking up in the middle of the night next to someone and continuing as if you never went to sleep.

85. the thought of living in the suburbs now scares me.

86. when i'm in a relationship, i never do the whole "i've got a headache" thing.

87. my mom, brother, and i lived in a trailer park for a few months after my parents separated.

88. i don't usually know how to back down in a argument.

89. i had two imaginary friends growing up.

90. peppy party was the main one.

91. amy was the other. she was my sister. she lived in florida, but was dead because she smoked cigarettes.

92. i obviously had an overactive imagination when i was younger.

93. i convinced by older brother to flood our upstairs bathroom with me when i was about four or five. i have no idea why i was doing it...or why he went along.

94. my mom says she had trouble yelling at me when i was a kid because i would just laugh and she couldn't keep a straight face.

95. i don't really sound like an adult on the phone.

96. although i am extremely indecisive, when i make a decision i firmly believe in it and rarely ever waiver.

97. watching the videos from when my little brother was on tour with his band make me realize he is probably cooler than me.

98. i don't always wash my hands in a public restroom. for some reason, i think it makes them dirtier. for that reason i try to always carry hand sanitizer.

99. i think pigeons are beautiful.

100. when i hold hands with someone i want my hand to be on the bottom.

101. there are people out there that probably don't know it, but they saved my life.

The deep end

I recently had a conversation with someone I didn't know very well. In the process of getting to know one another we shared the regular get to know you information: where we were from, where we've lived, number of siblings, etc. It is always an interesting conversation to discuss...my moving history. Inevitably the person with whom I am talking says, "oh, were your parents in the military?" This question is not too far off base, as I do share that I went to eight schools between kindergarten and twelfth grade. (as a side note, why did I have to type twelfth four times and squint my eyes as I tried to remember how to spell it?)

Anyway, I moved a lot. Oh, and my parents were not in the military. I usually laugh and respond, "Nope. They were just crazy." I laugh and they laugh and we change the subject or I make it sound much more light hearted.

During this particular conversation...the one I referenced at the beginning of this post...I was noting my jealousy because this particular person had remained friends with most of his high school clique. I said that I didn't have that. I don't. I've moved a lot. What I explained was that I got use to it. I was use to moving. It became an inevitable reality of my life. We moved. It is what my family did. I said that I learned how to miss people, but that I was terrible at keeping in touch. He gave me an awkward look and asked if it caused me to not really become emotionally invested in relationships with friends or others. I think he was trying to tap into something here because what I failed to mention was that this was a date. But, let's ignore that for a second because this was a really interesting comment and I will not get off on another tangent about how this date resulted in a second which resulted in a Facebook message. (see: previous post)

Back to what I was saying. His comment. Did my family's practice of moving so frequently cause me to not really become emotionally invested in relationships? I had never thought of this before. I mean, I knew I moved a lot and I knew I saw friendships come and go...but, I had never thought about it in these terms.

Did I learn to emotionally distance myself from others to prevent the inevitable heartbreak that would come with leaving them?

Perhaps some people would be offended by this suggestion or become uncomfortable and not know how to respond, but I love reflection and thinking of things in a new light so this previously unasked question intrigued me. I thought for a second and immediately had an answer. The answer was simple yet amazingly complex. No. I am a feeler. I feel everything. I am passionate and emotional and feel things...everything...to the core. There is not usually a middle ground with me. I don't pull away. I don't shrink to protect myself. I lay it out there. My heart is always on my sleeve. So, no. The answer for him was, "No." I explained that the reality was the antithesis of this. I think when I enter relationships I make them very real. Very fast. I know what it is like to leave people. And as I've become and adult, I've learned what it is like to have others leave me. So, I don't distance myself emotionally to ensure some protection. Nope. I make myself very vulnerable. I dive in head first to soak it up. I know things end, but I want to get the most of the time while I have it. I'm not going to waste my time in the shallow end when there is a deep end just waiting for me.

Perhaps this is the reason why my heart is frequently broken. I know I dive in. I hold my breath and jump in...usually with my eyes closed.

It's not all about relationships with guys. It is true that my propensity to go all in has resulted in tears, too many drinks, sleepless nights, and hour long phone calls. But, what it has offered me is amazingly raw and real friendships. Friends that give back. That aren't afraid because I jump in and tell them how much their friendship means to me. I have friends that will give me a hug because they know that is what I need...even when they aren't the hugging type. Or friends that will fly across the country on twenty four hours notice because neither one of us are doing well. I have friends that will drive me home when I can very well walk. And, who will let me win an argument because they know I don't like to lose. I have friends who will leave work to come lay in bed with me when all I want to do is sink away. And, those who will always know that there is no halfway with me.

I am so fortunate to have learned the value of relationships and friendships and to know they are to never be taken for granted or entered in lightly. And I'm glad I was asked because it reminded me of how happy I am diving head first.