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And back to the dating realm...


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It's been 2 months since being crushed by the guy who I was convinced would "never ever ever leave me no matter how bad things suck right now." We were going to fight through our differences (for eachother, of course) and eventually get married, produce babies that would be featured in Gap Kids ads, buy a dog, and live the good life. And that was the plan, until he left me. For another lady, no less. After one day of sappy love songs and incessant phone calls demanding him to "just admit it already," I discovered the truth of his indiscretions from a friend of a friend and forced myself to gather my pride and move on. Moving on entailed auctioning every gift he ever gave me on eBay, from which I collected 75 bucks for the cheating and lies I blindly endured over the duration of our 2.5 year on/off relationship. A rip-off, if you ask me, but nonetheless I celebrated with a great night out.


Of course, moving on was made easier by the fact that I met my "dream guy" 2 days following my ex's motion to sever ties. I felt a deep connection with a new guy who obviously had a connection with me...along with every other atleast mildly sociable female. This guy was abnormally interesting to me, but in retrospect I wonder if my interest was solely in him, or the distraction he provided from my most recent heartbreak. Either way, I was unable to reach him beyond late-night (accidental) hang-outs. I gave up and resolved that he wasn't so dreamy anyways. Upon this revelation, I decided that it was time for a little break from getting tangled up in dating.


And now, after a whopping one month outta the game, I feel...surprisingly good. I'm looking at men in a whole new light; real people who shouldn't be feared and can actually be enjoyed! I'm ready to re-enter the single person dating world. This enlightenment couldn't have come at a better time: nearing the mid-twenties range with plenty of mid-twenties-related changes to come. I have to admit, after what felt like years of stagnant fighting to be in a relationship that was unhealthy as sin, this is pretty exciting to me.



As a side note: I had another journal but decided that my two contributions were enough to drive me to become increasingly fatalistic upon reflection.

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You'd think that a declaration of your readiness to move forward and mix and mingle would be freeing, liberating. It has been, for the most part. But it seems that something always comes up that says 'not-so-fast.' And today those somethings have occurred threefold.


First, I'd like to say that I willingly deleted my ex from Facebook for the obvious purpose of maintaining my sanity. In no way do I wish to be compelled to check up on his most recent relationship developments, nor do I want pictures of him and his new gal appearing on my "news feed." Who needs to be Facebook friends with your ex when you have a best friend who will update you. Don't get me wrong, she's a very caring and supportive friend and I love her to death. But when there are any recent social developments, it's sure to spew out before she can even think twice. If anything, the sharing of the news that my ex was driving hours to visit his new girlfriend and saying "he never did that for you" was her way of really trying to say "dang girl, he's totally so effed up and you are way better off!!" Nonetheless, I can't help to wonder, "what makes her so much better and deserving?" I think the way my voice was shaking and nearing the speed of light made it clear that we should probably drop the subject. After some meditative yoga, I'm feeling much better and level-headed. Still determined to move forward.


And then, that so-and-so "dream guy" texts me out of the blue. I wonder, almost, if he's somehow devised a mechanism to read my mind, I imagine by some kind of tv/microwave combo connected by tin foil and wire hangers. Whenever I deduce that I do not and will not ever understand him and wave my imaginary white flag, he checks in. Only to, likely, check out at a later date. His text asked when I'd be returning to visit my college town, where he currently resides. I told him and he replied by saying "awesome blah blah blah I will be here." I didn't reply because I've decided that there's a 1 in 10 chance of him even showing interest upon my arrival; therefore, in another attempt to maintain sanity, I've decided to, in the words of the Beatles, "let it be" because nothing I can say will contribute to our eventual hanging out. Not sure I want to meet up either, simply because I cannot figure him out. And he's magnetic enough and it'd be just reckless and dangerous for me to redevelop any attachment to him. Though, who knows.


And then. Recently, a male friend that I considered to be a very good friend of mine has recently came onto me after getting, in his words, "black out drunk." He is the type of friend who has came and gone, usually depending on his current relationship status. But we've always picked up where we've left off and gotten along just fine. My assumption is that things were clearly only platonic, but his drunkeness spoke otherwise and I saw a side of him that kind of scared me. I can completely understand saying the wrong things when you're drunk as a skunk. But I'm still a little apprehensive about him, and whether or not he can remember it, I can. I still have the mental images in my head, none that were too pretty. He's tried to get ahold of me a few times, but I can't seem to face it, which I feel bad about. But if someones going to hold me down and kiss my neck against my wishes, I think I deserve to ignore confrontation until I'm ready to process it. So, that's that. To be honest, I kind of wish he'd completely disappear, but I know he won't and at one point or another I'll have to bite the bullet and remind him what had happened.


In other news, today was an absolutely beautiful day.

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Before 1 am on a Saturday and I've already turned in. Lounging in a men's XXL tee while enjoying some Creedence Clearwater Revival and Milk Duds seemed far more appealing than the bar scene tonight. I already wasn't feelin it, but the real night-ender was when a mutual friend turned to me and said "Look at that woman, she is such a (insert derogatory adjective describing a promiscuous woman)." "Do you know her?" I asked. She said no, "but you can just tell, look at her." After the elementary teacher within me surfaced and I delivered what I believed to be a very compelling speech about being nice to others, I decided to make my exit. I have no toleration for people like that anymore. I hope to not run into her anytime soon.


I must say, though, there were some pretty nice guys there. Nevertheless, I'd really rather not meet a new guy at a bar or any kind of party-like atmosphere. That's my hope, anyways, but if I really hit it off with someone, I guess I won't fight it. That'd be silly.

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I'm a closet indulger of self-help. I only say 'closet' because you would never know by looking at my collection of rock/country band, science theory, and dog books. Often my self-help rentals include books that cover topics I don't necessarily believe in or don't pertain to me in any way, but I like to know a little of everything. And I can be a tinge nerdy. But the premise of my latest reading definitely struck a chord: be bold.


Boldness is not one of my strong suits, at least while sober. I blame it on my father and his job that involves risk-assessment. Whatever genes are associated with his uncanny ability to determine all the things that could possibly go wrong in a given situation, he has passed to me (thanks dad!). Except for sex; for whatever reason I can indulge in that without thinking twice. I hope to never find out if this is because of dad too.


Anyways, determined to be bold, I have made some "flirting" moves that haven't necessarily been the right ones, or even ones that others would consider "flirting." The book I read failed to mention that along with being bold, you should have some level of skill. Or maybe I just forgot to remember that part, who knows. Apparently I'm not as good at flirting as my record would show. I'm not not saying I'm a floozy, but I've always been alright at speaking to men at the bar.


I attempted to put this to use at the store. I spotted a cute guy at the register, a rarity as usually I only see sweet white-haired ladies who remind you to have a "blessed and safe day." After I grabbed my orange juice and skittles, I made my to the counter with a big awkward smile on my face. I could feel it. As he rung me up, he pointed towards the Butterfingers and offered a sales pitch, "2 for one dollar today, and way better the skittles!"


Usually I'd say "No thanks!" But reminding myself to do something different than usual (thinking bold), I rummaged through my brain for anything else to say. I ended up rambling something along the lines of, "Oh, I don't like Butterfingers. But maybe I'd like it in ice cream. I could probably crunch it up and mix it together. Willing to put your ice cream on sale?" His manager butted in a second later, offering the same Butterfinger pitch before the cashier could reply to my offer of giving me ice cream for sale. Not like I'd know where to go after a reply, and surely the guy didn't even have the power to discount any item he wanted, but at least I'd gain some kind of validation of my ability to "flirt" at any given place (if you could even call it flirting). All I can say is, if he would've given me discounted ice cream, me and my love of ice cream would've pounced him right then and there.


Oh well, practice makes perfect. I'm a rambler at heart.

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So the other night I dropped by the local watering hole to relax with some friends. And by relax I mean consume one pitcher too many and take over the dance floor Kevin Bacon-style. The two friends who dared to step on the dance floor with me and I had such a great time that I paid no mind to the eyes that wandered our way. I tell myself that the expectation of being somewhat normal is significantly lower for me than my sexier female comrades. That's my excuse anyways.


While we were cuttin' a rug to Sean Kingston, quite possibly my new "dream guy" appears next to me and starts doing the lawn mower. It was doubly surprising. One part surprising because there was an attractive guy in an otherwise Guido-infested bar; another part surprising because this guy was willing to relinquish a little bit of dignity in the name of having fun. After a brief exchange of names, we then exchanged our personal renditions of classic moves like the Sprinkler and Walk-the-Dog. I avoided the Worm, for obvious reasons. My sundress would've given him and onlookers quite a show.


The music died down around 2, so we didn't have time to actually talk aside from our yelling over a medley of commercially successful tunes and pretending to hear one another with a smile and a nod. I knew I struck gold when he asked for my number rather than inviting me to follow him back to his place. He also told me that he had the most fun that he's ever had at that bar and he'd call or text soon. He did text right after, "you forgot to ask for my #, here it is! But since then, no word from him yet.


I hope I do hear from him, but even if I don't, I've relearned something that night: This is what being single is all about. It's nothing to be scared of. Have fun, be free, and meet some really nice people.

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Holy cow, I haven't been in the best of moods these past couple days, not by any means. Compliments of Mother Nature, my monthly gift has been riddled with cramps, bloating, and mood-swings like no other.


During this time, I've found it difficult to sensor myself. To help curb this, I don't go anywhere without music flowing through my earbuds to dull my mind from negative thoughts. It helps, but doesn't eliminate the occasional f-bomb or clear disdain for standing in long grocery lines while contemplating whether it'd be completely inappropriate to curl up into a ball on the ground. It's insane how much these hormones effect me to a point where others might assume an evil twin has stepped in my place. Usually, I don't say the f-bomb, and I enjoy looking at magazine covers while waiting in grocery lines.


I should be completely happy considering recent developments concerning the male species, but instead, like everything else, it just annoys me. It's impossible. Regardless of how aware I am of my irrationality, I can't seem to make it go away. Luckily the worst part of this week is over. Many thanks to dad for providing mom with an X chromosome rather than a Y.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Let's start where all good things begin: the dancefloor.


Recently I decided that I was going to actually dance, as opposed to bopping around like a chimpanzee and wondering why so many raised eyebrows are pointed my way. I was feeling feminine and the bass filling the bar was making my spine tingle. So I made myself available by the bar until a guy with an earring nodded toward the seat next to him. He was very cute so I obliged. A few drinks and a monologue describing why he should stop calling me "baby" later, and we almost simultaneously revealed that we'd both much rather be on the dancefloor than sitting on bar stools. And, oh boy. Once we hit the floor...Let's just say that his feet were definitely moving in a way that said, "Honey, I'm here to dance." Which was good, because clearly I was there to dance too. It was interesting because there was still that element of fun and goofiness, regardless of how close or "sexy" we were dancing. On a side note, I can't believe I just said sexy. Anyways, we talked a bit, and yes kissed, and repeated the scenario the next night. It was fun. He is different than most men I meet. Not only could he two-step like Unk, but he also had the whole John Mayer persona working for him. I almost slightly fell for him, but he's temporary to the area so I might never see him again.


I ran into my ex recently. He was squirming more than my childhood Garter snake, which admittedly was pretty fun to see. He later sent me a text, revealing how much he's been thinking about what a jerk he is, how he is ashamed, that has been worried about me, etc. I didn't reply at first. Of course this changed later in the night, clearly after I had enough ethanol in my system that my blood could've been used as a suitable fuel additive. I forget how we got from point A to point B, but at one point we were going to meet up to talk. If I remember correctly, his texts were becoming increasingly flirty, and I know he has reservations about his new girlfriend, so it's probably a good thing that we both went to sleep before this could happen. I haven't spoken to him since, and surely don't plan to. Why would I? The fact that I don't hurt anymore, even after seeing him in person, is all I need to know.

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I should consider renaming this journal "And back to the meeting-a-new-guy-who's-just-visiting-and-I'll-never-see-again realm..."


I think I'd have to go out of town to find a guy who lives nearby. Ah, well. Maybe I should just enjoy this in all it's noncommittal glory.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I knew my ex was arrogant. Day in and day out, I'd hear stories about how he impressed a professor with his knowledge on whatever or how he made his uncle's friend's cousin's boyfriend laugh with some terribly amusing comment. It became boring to be around someone who revered themselves highly without so much as taking a breath so I could chime in about my mediocre grade on a not-so-enthralling report about educational technology, or that the vending machines were finally restocked with my favorite cheese crackers, or anything else of importance to me at the moment. Anything other than "wow, I'm impressed," which I always was, but you say it enough and it becomes rather redundant and meaningless. I'd like to say that he was like a peacock who was always in heat, trying to impress me with his feathers of success. But he was like this with everyone, even innocent bystanders. "Oh, you thought the test was hard? I think I aced it." That kinda' thing.


And where is this rant was coming from? Well, I just didn't think he was this stupidly arrogant. After leaving things on a semi-friendly note after the last texting incident--but making it clear that I didn't want any communication between us aside from maybe a head-nod if we ever run into eachother--he has taken it upon himself to text me. I told him not to, but he feels the need to apologize once again. Does he think I'm still hurting? Or that I even think about it? Talk about trying to relieve the guilt. I'm not sure what he wants me to say, "It's okay that you cheated on me and then kicked me to the curb for that poor girl who now has to try to survive you." I don't approve and I don't think it's right what he did. I can forgive him, but I will never say that it's okay that he did that, or that anything he did over the course of the years was okay. Instead I replied by saying, "Been over it for months now. How are you, happy?" He responded by telling me that I should know that he's never happy. Unsure on how to respond, and realizing it'd be pointless to respond anyways, I leave it at that. He's never happy. Everything I've ever needed to know from him, summed up in three words.


Inhabitants of the Middle Ages never had to worry about receiving texts from their ex-lovers. No, they just got poems written about them. Not sure which is worse, but it'd be nice to be romanticized in a poem or two for my troubles.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I recently started to casually hang out with a new guy. We met through friends when I met up with them for drinks, and we hung out alone a couple times. Mostly just a series of facebook convos and drink meet-ups. He seemed sweet and relatively normal I guess, but I think our short-lived fling is over.


I spent one night at his apartment after a week of talking to eachother...in a room filled with posters of naked women with busts triple the size of my own. Hooking up on any level was tough enough with a dozen Pamela Anderson wanna-bes staring, judging me from every corner of the room. Usually I don't mind (boys will be boys, right?), but this was a little eery. That--along with the fact that I was already unsure if we even had anything in common--made it so I didn't have any desire to have sex.


But thing that really threw me off is that after not knowing eachother for very long (or very sober), one morning he woke up and said, "So, we're...girlfriend/boyfriend now, right?" It seemed really weird. I uncomfortably told him that at this rate we'd end up married by September, so no, we weren't dating yet. We haven't spoken since he dropped me off.


Either I need to brush up on my manners, or I need to stop meeting guys who scare the "right things to say" out of me.

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  • 2 weeks later...

The guy infatuated with naked pictures got ahold of me a few times. I let him know the truth: we don't have anything in common. Our conversations felt forced. It was almost as if he wanted to skip the small talk and get to the "good stuff." He still wants to be friends, but realistically, I doubt that will happen. And yes, it absolutely made me feel a bit uneasy that a guy in his mid-twenties had nudies wallpapering his bedroom walls/ceiling, as if every hormonal teen's fantasy puked all over his walls. I've seen a couple girl posters in guys' rooms, but nothing like this, not even close.


Aside from that, there's a guy I've really had my eye on. He's a very sweet, attractive, hilarious guy. We're more like acquaintances-that-flirt-once-a-week than friends, and considering I'm moving soon, I'm a little unhappy that it's impossible for anything to happen. He grabbed my attention from the minute I saw him. There's something I can't put my finger on, that little ping in my head that says "he's got it." I'm no romantic (well, maybe I am a little at heart...maybe...), but he makes my brain tingle when he talks to me.


I'm the worst at having any kind of journal. I think words faster than I can release them from my brain, verbally or written.

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  • 2 months later...

Well, it's been a while since I've been here. Between receiving an education, paying homage to the Beatles on bar stools, and everything in between...well, let's just say that I've been busy. It didn't work out with the guy I "had my eye on" in the previous post. In fact, nothing happened at all. He had a girlfriend, meaning our flirtations were nothing short of your everyday run-of-the-mill substandard scandal. That's old news though. Six or seven guys ago to be fairly inexact.


Fast forward past a few minor heartbreaks and a couple of untimely mistakes, and my current situation is with really great guy. He regularly checks in just to see how I am, I've met his friends, he cooks me meals that accurately satisfy my cravings without ever needing to say what I want (eery). So WHY do I not want to date him? I didn't know at first, because he was so great. But then I thought about it, and for starters, well, we have little in common. This is usually endearing, but in this case we find little to agree or talk about. We both have a pretty good sense of humor I'm sure. It's just two entirely different types of humor; we rarely laugh at the same time. Further, I know that we would never work out long-term. The roads we plan to travel are going in two opposite directions, both literally and metaphorically.


It's driving me insane. The whole situation makes me feel surprisingly terrible. Not only do I feel guilty with every nice thing he does and says, but I feel so bad that I might hurt him. I deeply, truly do not want to hurt anyone. I can deal with guilt and uneasiness if it means that I don't hurt someone. But I don't want to be evil and lie to him. He's a great guy, just not the right fit for me, and I don't want to risk hurting him more by waiting. Sheesh. Is there any easy way to do this? My guess is no.

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  • 1 month later...

It's the biggest bar day of the year and I choose to spare my liver and stomach from the trauma. Not only do I need to slow my life down a little, but I also just love eating too much to risk losing the ability to stomach all the food that tomorrow will offer. It's sad but truthfully, I'm proud of myself and everyone seemed surprised. Tomorrow will be a good day of food, family, parades, and--sadly--football.


As tactfully and gently as possible, I let the guy in the previous post know that I wasn't sure if I was interested in going any further. We trade awkward glances when we see each other out, and living in a relatively small town means that it happens often. I guess it's no more awkward than every other situation I've gotten myself into. For instance, I am now in a similar situation. A few months ago I met a guy at a bar (I hate saying that). Every dart I threw that night missed the board, probably in part because I refused to set down the beer pitcher I was drinking straight from. Apparently he digs that, because he told me all about it three months later. He saw me out and asked me why I ignore him all the time, while frankly I barely remembered him. Long story short, that night I end up playing with a dog in his hot tub, but jet outta there before anything went any further. Now he's texting me a minimum of ten texts a day and I'm a little freaked out. We had fun, but I get these weird vibes and to be honest, it's scaring me more than just weirding me out. It's not like your run-of-the-mill "How are ya?" texts, but rather "What are you doing? We need to hang out soon because I really want to see you. I was taking to my friend about you! Muah " There have been times that he's sent multiple texts with no responses from me, and the content of those texts lead me to believe he's a little controlling. Not sure what to do about this; I'm really nervous to see him again!

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  • 1 month later...

It's that time of the year again. A time of both retrospection and foresight, when we ask ourselves "why the hell did I do that?" and "how can I never be like that again?!" I'm doing my fair share of both. Most of my thoughts turn to two things: money and men.


I am horrible at managing money. I find it impossibly difficult to walk into a store and leave without something that shows I’ve been there, whether a light up yo-yo from a gas station or a candy bar that's been sitting on the shelf so long that it's covered in a blanket of dust. It’s so bad that I’ve become notorious for wasting money that I don't have. How could I possibly have money, anyways? I've worked a real "job" for only a couple short months, the result of being born lucky and choosing to dedicate my time towards volunteer work and school and spending time with all that I love. People who hear that I don't work are quick to assume I'm lazy. I never bother with correcting them, but it’d probably be more accurate if they called me stupid. They work for money, I work for free.


So yes, while I'm spending money that falls outside the budget that my family has graciously provided me with (and I mean that in the most sincere way; I truly am grateful), I dig myself into some holes. Holes so deep that my bank has given me some enthralling lectures concerning my money mishaps and routinely threatens to close my account. This here marks one thing I hope to change next year: I'd like to get better at money management. My lifestyle will need to change. It might take more than the pat on the back and "good job" I receive from a friend when I reshelve whatever item I'd been cradling in my arms like an infant while perusing the store. It's time to really think about why I feel the need to spend all this money, e.g. is it that material gains are where I find solace, or is it because I like to create problems just for the thrill of solving them?


Next, I reflect on my man situation, starting with a conflicted relationship that ended in March/April and fast forwarding to the hopefulness of today, pending a gynecological exam that I am exceptionally nervous for. Following the big break up, I took myself on a journey of sorts. I was misguided for so long in thinking that my ex was the one for me, settling for comfort and the hope that things would fall into place with us. Well things didn’t fall into place, which was made evident with his decision to instead date a girl who’s as different from me as I think he could possibly find. A quarter life crisis then led me to believe that I had no idea what I wanted in a guy and sent me on a hunt to figure it out. But the most notable results of my search for "what I want in a guy" was a cell phone filled with names and numbers that I don't remember or recognize, and a longing for something more profound.


This isn't to say I didn't learn a lot about myself and others. In fact, I like to think that the opposite is true. The take-away of the experiences has been integrated so discreetly with my prior knowledge, making it tricky to comment on what I’ve learned as a whole. But thinking about individual circumstances has proved to be interesting. No two guys were the same, in fact, I’ve gotten to know a wide array of “types.” I took my mission seriously. A majority of the relationships (or non-relationships, maybe) have dwindled away naturally as I think the feelings were often mutual. I'm on a friendly basis with most, if not all. Aside from the situations that I've already written about, these are some of the most significant and:

  • Tattooed muscle man. Very sweet but texted as if it were a new religion. We didn't have much to say so our texts usually consisted of a series of emoticons. Eventually we decided it was better to avoid forcing anything.
  • Beautiful-eyed, also tattooed, self-proclaimed punk. He would give me the evil eye and tell me I'm wrong about pretty much everything, which at first I found bold and endearing. I learned that it isn't endearing forever. In fact, I was ready for a hug within a few hours alone with him.
  • Ex-dread-locked environment fanatic. The only woman that could ever tie him down is Mother Earth herself. Very spontaneous and fun, but pulling me out of bed during a nap for a barefoot hike in October was taking it a little far. Eventually he had other things to do, like move to the opposite side of the country. He will continue to be my favorite (and only) pen pal and has taught me much about living in the moment.
  • Ski hipster. He insisted on wearing a bandanna over his face and a shirt that covered his knees. I still can't figure out if I love or hate that look. He had great musical insight which helped me to develop a meaningful appreciation for all music, giving new life to all things listened to. He also helped me to see that someone who isn’t over his ex probably won’t get over her any faster just because of you. He needs to do it on his own accord.


And all this leads to now. I've met the most wonderful person. When he smiles, he radiates gold and purple. I can honestly say I've never met someone like him. He’d shown me more about what I want in a guy just by being that guy. I'm taking it slow, doing it the right way, and really trying to know him. I doubt this will be the last time I mention him, hopefully for the better.


So I will end this novel of a post in the same form that I would end my most brilliantly-composed middle school essays: In conclusion, this year has been a rollercoaster. Exciting, sometimes fun, but mostly terrifying.


Happy 2011 to all.

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I was jumping on my bed while singing to "Hello"*, he was stomping his foot and clapping his hands to the beat. Dream guy? Probably. I've always enjoyed a guy who's not to proud to play along.


Sidenote: standing on a bed that is merely a folded down futon might result in some tipping of the "bed" and/or falling near the edges. Not always so safe, a helmet might prove beneficial.


*by Martin Solviege and Dragonette

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  • 2 weeks later...

For some reason whenever I find a guy that I actually like, he finds another girl within the same month of hanging out with me. Admittedly it makes me wonder what's wrong with me. My heart feels heavy, like tiny weights are dancing on my chest.

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There is one good thing that has come of being rejected as much as I have: I've had alotta practice with getting over it. This is what works for me. Feel free to let me know if the logic is screwy.


The most important thing is maintaining a positive attitude. Yesterday I was feeling sorry for myself, reaching for that bottle of rum and declaring every man-hater song as my new theme. Hatred is venom, and it's hard to get it out of your system once you let it take hold of you. Don't inflict yourself with venom, it's more harmful to you than anyone else. I think back to all of the other times a guy has said, "Hm baby you're not for me," and I bounced back each time. This won't be any different.


I then remember not to put him on a pedestal. I'm not saying I tear the guy to pieces and turn his every fault into a personal attack on his character. It's just being honest and realistic about why it's good that we're going our separate ways. Were there deal-breakers that I overlooked because I was too overcome by the warm-fuzzies? Maybe he sees something I don't, maybe something better will come along...maybe I should be thanking him! In this case, I don't think he was someone I would be able to fully count on and I'm not sure he understood my sense of humor. These are two things that are important to me, and now I have the chance to find it elsewhere.


I also think back to times that I've rejected a guy. How did I feel? I'm sure he feels the same, so how could I blame him? He didn't feel like I was right for him. I like to be happy myself, so I don't want to get in the way of anyone else's happiness.


I surround myself with people who care about me. I talk to them. I let them know how I feel and get their advice/hugs, and take it to heart. People who care about you want the best for you. And I'll admit, a good stroking of the ego is always nice at times like this. I called a friend last night and she said, "You're a pretty girl, intelligent, always fun to be around, and you'll find someone." Whether or not the sentiments are generic, the reassurance is nice at a time when the ego is a little bruised.


I also like to fall off his radar. I don't act rude, just genuinely indifferent and I don't seek him out on Facebook, in bars, or wherever else. Cold turkey. I focus on other things; I've made a list of the things I need to get done this week. It makes it easier to focus on other things when everything is listed out right in front of me and make myself believe, "I'm too busy for him anyway! Cleaning my boots could take hours!"


Being rejected doesn't mean that something's wrong with you, it just means you were wrong for that person. I put myself out there, I should be proud.


Mostly, I remember that being single isn't so bad. In fact, all of the possibilities are kind of exciting. There's nothing or noone to hold me back, and I don't want to give that up for someone who doesn't really like me anyway.

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What makes a guy think he can just come back around as he pleases? I can understand if a guy is uninterested and won't lose any respect for him, but it's not okay that he thinks I'll go to bed with him a coy smile and a few Cosmos later. Read: I am not interested in hanging 'round at his disposal.

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  • 3 weeks later...

This weekend was interesting. I'll admit, I was out of my mind. But in the same breath, I was blissfully happy, not necessarily caring about what I was doing, evidently until 9am the next morning. It took me a while to piece together my night the next day and I'm still figuring things out. On a couple of occasions, I've be walking somewhere and a stranger has approached me as if we were middle school blood sisters that just bonded over our love for Leonardo DiCaprio.


It's rare when I forget these things. I never do, and frankly I hate the off-night when it does happen. Before others started to fill me in, I was blank. Fortunately, no mistakes were made and the only toes I stepped on were the ones I was dancing with.


Without delving too much into what happened that night, these were what I later found in my coat pocket, none of which were in my possession in the beginning of the night:

-Half a pack of gum and a ring pop

-A tiger lighter

-Temporary cherry tattoo on my wrist

-A web developer's business card with "filthy" written on the back

-A receipt for milk and pizza, along with numerous bar receipts


What wasn't in my possession?

-Cell phone

-Credit card



Luckily I was able to call around and find their location. Yes!

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I enjoy fixing things that are broken. This includes cameras, porch lights, bed frames, and apparently, men. And herein lies my problem. I have a little detector in my brain that draws me towards emotionally unavailable men. I say that I want something simple, but really I yearn a problem to solve.


In the process, I miss out on the ones that are ready for me, wanting me, truly there for me: the guy who tells his friends about a great conversation we had, the guy who swears that anyone who wins me over will be the luckiest man alive, the guy that is always there to make me feel better when I'm down. It's always gone unnoticed; I see it now.


Maybe this is the awakening. And finally not a rude one!

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  • 3 weeks later...

This past month has been a whirlwind. I've been up, I've been down; I've subjected myself to multiple Jewel-induced cryfests. Months of suppressed emotions have hit me--ones that I chose to push aside because there's no better time than later to face your feelings.


And now, I ask myself: WHAT IS HAPPINESS EVEN? And why am I not it? Is happiness a tail, and I'm the tenacious Chihuahua? Or is it something I'm quietly observing and waiting to come to me? Either way, it's not working.


I think that the misconception of happiness is that being happy means that everything is going perfectly well. In other words, success yields happiness and a lack of success yields unhappiness. But this means that when things aren't perfect, I'm not happy. This isn't okay with me and it changes right...now.


Just like good things are going to happen, it's inevitable that bad things are going to happen too. My heart is going to break, people will get sick, jobs will be lost, and the list goes on. I can work towards transforming my life into the Kingdom of Caring, where I'm Funshine Bear, blissfully sliding down sparkly rainbows with my Care Bear friends and ignoring the plights of Grumpy Bear. But I can't always just transform things to become exactly what I want; everything can't always be sparkly rainbows. What I can transform is how I allow things to effect me. I can change how I perceive things, and thus, my state of mind.


So now, I will work towards enjoying each and every moment, regardless of the end result. I will still work hard towards what I want, but with an understanding that it's not the end of the world if I don't get my preferred outcome...yet. In fact, why even have one outcome as a marker for my success or failure? Forget that, success will come from enjoying what I'm doing as I do it and at least moving in SOME direction. Something good will come. An obstacle just means: more time to continue on that particular adventure. Yeehaw!

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  • 1 month later...

I'm on the fast-track. I've got no idea where it's taking me, but I'm pretty thrilled. Apparently my attendance at this secondary education establishment is about to pay off. I love my family maximally. My social life is super fun. Romantically...meh. I try not to worry about it, but trust me, I do recognize the sexual implications of it.


I'll be the first to admit that I'm not shy when it comes to guys...that I have no interest in. I can walk up to a guy on the street and tell him I like his orange loafers, or grab the hand of a stranger and lead him to the dance floor without learning so much as his name or even hair color. But put me in a room with a guy I actually like and I'll be the girl awkwardly standing in the corner, staring at the floor as if it held the secret to life. And now there is this one guy that I cannot get out of my mind. He's got that X-factor; a concept I totally never understood until right now, while I attempt to explain why exactly I like him. I'm very clueless as to why. We have mutual friends, he's always very friendly, we've tried conversation before, but we both just drift off...


I'm telling myself that nothing will come of it. Just in case.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Ok ok ok. To be honest, I didn't really expect for anything to happen with that guy I'm so bashful around. My eyes never meet with his, he's the only person I can't directly address without wanting to vomit, and we've arrived to that dead-end point where we don't even say hey anymore when in the same room. I've been told that my reactions to him have crossed the threshold from "aw that's kinda cute" to "dang this girl is awwkward." Ah, well. I'll just fold this lesson up, put it in my pocket, and reference it in future encounters with any charming gentlemen that enthrall me to a point of paralyzing awkwardness (whether they want me to be enthralled by them or not).

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