#Happy?

Is it truly possible to be this happy?

It sounds like a stupid question, but it’s one that I am genuine in asking.

I’m slowly turning into one of those people who make me gag, so happy with the person they are with that it doesn’t seem possible.

So that teacher is more than just a passing fancy. In fact, I would say he was my boyfriend, if I used terminology like that, I feel like we are more than just dating, and friends with benefits seems too crude. We spend a lot of time together, like a lot. And when we’re not together we’re either making plans to spend time together or texting. It’s like I’ve reverted to being a 16-year-old girl.

He treats me so well and he’s so patient with my complete fear of relationships. The other day, he was told me there should be as many words for relationships as the Inuit have for snow (very many). It’s true, because classification is difficult, but how I feel is not.

Just happy.

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Commitment phobic, aka that time I freaked out over a drawer

I find myself in a strange place.

Okay, I find myself in a lot of strange places, but I meant this one in an emotional sense. I really like this guy I’ve been seeing, but it’s just so easy. Usually there is at least one major drama going (okay I know there is GOING to be when I get around to tell my friend), but right now it’s just easy. I spend most nights at his house, and we eat a majority of meals together.

We have similar tastes in workouts, appreciate good food, have intelligent conversation and laugh together, a lot.

I think this strange place is called happiness.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when he asked to clear some space out in drawer for me. It made sense, I am perpetually lugging work-out clothes, pajamas etc. back and forth. BUT, for me it was a bit of a show stopper. I felt that familiar panicky feeling bubbling up in my chest, I started gasping for breath. The idea that someone wanted me around that often is both wonderful and completely alarming.

It makes total sense, but I am not at all okay with it.

A friend of mine was laughing when I told her because she can’t believe how commitment-phobic I am. She says I have to move in baby steps, so I will.

We’ve come to a compromise. He bought me a tooth brush.

Next step? A toothbrush at my house, but lets not rush things here.

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L-O-V-E

L-is for the way you look at me…

My parents love my, my brother, grandparents and other assorted family members love me.

I have a couple of great friends who love me too.

And I love all of them.

I have heard “I love you,” from a man that I have loved in only one relationship … ever. And even then it felt the first time like it was a forced confession. The international incident never said he loved me, the few guys I walked away from since then also never said anything, the current on again/off again is same-same. The wired thing is I can/could tell by the way they acted, the way they looked at me, they did love me.

Is a woman supposed to say, “I love you,” first? After the first time, I swore I’d never say it first again, but is that why I don’t hear it?

That’s not the way it is in the movies.

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Here’s my deal: explaining my love of the single life

“What’s your deal?”

It was a question, but the look that accompanied it conveyed a cross between curiosity and judgment.

“I mean, are you married or what?”

The line of questioning was coming across the table at me from a girl who works at the same company. We were attending a high-end fundraiser for a community foundation.

I was a little taken back. We’d all been drinking, but I never realized that my always going to things solo had been seen in such a negative light. I always just figured I was me, and that’s how my being on my own was taken.

I mumbled out some response about not settling down in this city, how it was just another temporary stop on my journey through life, which is true. I didn’t mention the guy I’m kind of seeing, or that the guy I was kind of seeing, or …

I always figured that by attending these events, Christmas parties etc. on my own, I would be taken for who I am, and what I have to bring to the table. In such a male-dominated field, what I bring as me is VERY important. I feel like even if I was with “the love of my life,” I wouldn’t be out parading him about.

I like being single, I like meeting and hanging out with interesting people when I want without feeling guilty. I don’t see myself being the settling down and raising a family type.

Being “single” has always worked for me and I was surprised that another woman who would question it. Had she just stopped once I explained my deal, that would have been fine, but as she continued to explain why I should “find a guy,” others joined in.

Even the other single women at the table were talking about why I needed to date more often and “settle down.”  I wonder if it’s jealousy. What I do flies in the face of what is the norm. Were the single girls jealous that not only am I not ashamed of my single status, I flaunt it? Were the married/nearly married girls jealous over my freedom?

Fortunately another performance had begun and by the time it was over, the conversation had moved on. And aside from two people saying they had “the perfect man” for me to meet, nothing more was said – but those comments I’ve come to expect (and love). I mean it’s a compliment that everyone has a friend they would like me to hang out with, and that’s how I’ll take it.

So, I guess, that’s my deal.

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Two kinds of heartbreak: when memories catch up

That trip home has really got me thinking …

Today I had to do a lot of travel for work, so, unfortunately, I had lots of time to think.

I’ve come to the conclusion that there are two kinds of heartbreak.

One hurts so badly when it happens that breathing is difficult, you can’t eat, or sleep and the pain is acute. It’s this breakup that made me start this blog. This kind of heart break makes you feel like you will never recover, but eventually you do, and when it comes back, it’s a short, sharp pain and goes away again.

The other doesn’t hurt so badly at first. You know the decision is the right one and going separate ways is better for both of you. But, this is the one that burns in the back of your brain, catching you when you have moments of weakness, making you wonder if you have made the right decision.

I’ve experienced both and neither is that good.

It’s the second one that I experienced this past weekend though. That guy has moved on, and 90 per cent of me is so happy for him, we continue to be friends and the new girl is lovely. I know he isn’t the one for me and having him as my friend is more important than him as a boyfriend ever could be. However, when I visit home, all those places we were together, the places we walked, drove, visited, the events we attended, all those memories come flooding back and I forget all the reasons why it wouldn’t work.

Then I pack up and fly away again and wait for this burning in the back of the brain to recede once again as I look forward to making new memories with new and incredible people.

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Avoiding socially-created happily ever after

What is the magic age, where I am supposed to suddenly want to get married, settle down, have kids and live happily ever after?

Because I don’t feel that way. Ever.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy company and I like to be the center of male attention, but I just don’t feel like I should have to go down the happily-ever-after road.

Usually I don’t care, but my persistent single-ness has been brought to my attention once again – because clearly I didn’t notice – and I keep being told that ever-so-annoying statement, “oh, when you meet the right guy, it will all change.”

I did meet the right guy – he moved away.

So much for that all you societal supposed-tos.

Besides, I’m not single, single. I have a couple of men that I see randomly – one more than others. He actually has bigger commitment issues than I do, and a decade more practice at avoiding relationships. In some ways it’s the ideal situation, I can walk away at any time – of course then so can he.

Oh, by the way. I’m in the wedding part this weekend and no, I don’t have a date.

Did this post even make any sense? I’m tired and off to bed. Good night

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Adventures in Internet Dating: the Bitter Profile

I know I complain a lot about online dating (like a lot), but people never cease to amaze me.

Along with a freakishly large number of men that think,”Wassup” constitutes a good opening line, there are those who think they should explain exactly what they aren’t looking for in a profile.

You know, the:

“I’m not looking for drama, or women who can’t pay their own way.”

Or

“If you aren’t into being physically fit, then I’m not into you. Don’t lie, I’ll figure it out anyway.”

Or

“Women who still have issues surrounding their exes need not apply, if you are just looking for a free ride, look somewhere else … (and then proceeded to bash someone he’d dated).”

So, here’s the thing, clearly you’ve been on a bad date (or several) and been screwed over. That sucks and I feel for you, really I do.

But I’m not sure if a profile that includes the phrase, “just because we message doesn’t mean we are girlfriend/boyfriend, if I take a day to text chill out,” really makes me want to message you.

Maybe tuck the chip on your shoulder away and talk about things that would attract me to emailing you, you know focus on the positive (and by the way, I’m happy if you don’t think we are dating because I send a message, isn’t that the baseline?)

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Postcards from the edge: an email after six months

Well speak of the devil.

Why is it that when I bring someone up, it’s like they are reading my mind from a world away.  The man who sent flowers, emailed me. It’s the first time in more than six months.

I was kind of hoping that when I never heard from him again, I would never hear from him again, but, like always, just when I think it’s all good, they write.

Along with the news, he sent this “it seems like all my friends are getting married. What am I doing wrong? Am I doing something wrong?”

Gut instinct is to write back, “well convincing a girl that she is largely in love with you, getting her to travel halfway around the world to meet you for New Years Eve in a beautiful (and neutral) location and then when she steps off the plane, acting like you are nearly strangers and having that continue for the next three weeks, might be part of what you’re doing wrong.”

However, common sense is outweighing gut instinct. Instead I am writing that response here, giving myself time to comprehend the entire email and will write back when it’s not such an emotional response.

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Gaining strength – a step further from heart break and closer to being the best of me

It may seem strange – especially after my going on about being heartbroken, again – but in some ways, I am grateful when there is a break up.

When you think things are headed this way, or there is stress in a relationship, I find I start to lose myself – I’m realizing that the break up comes as a kind of relief.

It reminds me who I am, makes me more focused and tougher.

It makes me take an extra minute for myself – whether it is a moment to meditate, or a chance to pamper myself with a pedicure.

It makes me want to learn and grow – I took up running after the international incident. Now I think it’s time to start boxing again.

I’d like to say it’s all about me improving myself for me … but a lot of it is a message to him:

“You think you can find someone to fill the place that I’ve left? Closer doesn’t mean better, it just means more accessible. One day, you’re going to stop to look me up, and the version of me you are going to find, it going to make you realize what you passed up on because you were worried it might be complicated.”

What doesn’t kill me makes me a skinner, stronger, more bad-ass bitch.

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Being honest with your feelings: Damned if you do and damned if you don’t

I never told the guy from the international incident, two years ago now, how much I cared, how much I loved him.

Well, not until the day we split, then amongst my tears I managed to gasp out, “but I love you.” Like that would somehow change the current situation – I’ll admit that it wasn’t mine finest hour.

In that case, I had kept my mouth shut to protect myself, to not seem clingy, to not get hurt. Right, that was an epic fail.

This time I decided would be different, I was open. I told the professional that I liked him – I mean not in some creepy, stalker, I’ve-known-you-only-three-weeks-but-I-love-you-and-want-to-have-your-babies way. But, when the opportunity came up, I made sure he knew how I felt.

“Hey, I know you’ve been busy, but I like you and wish we could hang out more often.”

To which, he said, “I agree.”

I thought that by applying a lesson learned from the first experience, I wouldn’t get hurt this time. This also has not worked.

I’m a pretty smart girl, but I’m clearly missing something. It seems that I’m dammed if I do and damned if I don’t. Or maybe I just really have bad taste in men.

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