haunting heroine

In response to jersey girl.

I do not envy where you are. I heard your jumble in my head all day at work, and couldn’t help but lay it all out there. You are the voice in my head, not more than 2 years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday.

Your “jumble” was my two page Word documents that I saved to a secret spot on my computer, where no one could find them. I wish I had them now because I would show them to you. Proof that, over time, your jumble will unscramble itself before your very eyes. You will look ahead for a sign, then backwards over your shoulder towards what you have grown to love, and then again straight ahead; watching as the road you are on takes shape in front of you. Only then will it be clear, not a moment sooner. And you won’t even need to ask where or why. Instead you will follow it. Because it is the only thing, at that moment, that feels right.

I took that road. Only then did people tell me I was right all along. They knew he wasn’t for me.

I took that road. And to this day, it is the ONLY time in my life I felt truly crazy. Like my own thoughts were betraying me, my reasoning was off, and I couldn’t trust what was swirling around in my own head.

I took that road, but not without looking back. I estalked, I tried to find out everything I could about him, but I did it from a far. Because talking to him would have hurt him more than I already had; and I loved him more than that. I chased every car that looked like his, and dreamed of the day when we would serendipitously cross paths in our hometown.

I took that road, and knew it was the right one.

Even then, when I found out he had a new gf six months in, I collapsed in the shower and cried as the water refused to wash away the hurt.

I took that road and I would do it again, in search of the right kind of love.

motorcycle moron

He never spoke of liking them, or wanting one. I have a hunch it is the male equivalent of the post-breakup hair cut.

Nothing to heal a little heartache like a brand new motorcycle, moron.

The asphalt won’t dull the pain. I promise you.

cork it quick

purge part 4:

My boss invited me to a neighbor’s for a glass of wine one day after work. So I went, because they are close with their neighbors, and I know that we hear stories about each other.

I get to the door, never having met the people on the other side.

She looks friendly enough, but surprised to see an extra guest.

And then it registers. And she says, “You must be my future daughter-in-law.”

Thinking I heard incorrectly, I laughed it off on the outside. On the inside, my eggs jumped back into my screaming ovaries.

Moving on, into the kitchen. Where I meet Mr. Neighborman. Wine glasses are pulled from dark oak cabinets, and as he uncorks a bottle, he turns to my boss and asks, “So is this the future daughter-in-law?

The only response that is mustered is my boss choking down a sip of perfectly-aged wine adding, “We hadn’t mentioned that part to her. yet.”

Uh. Hello. Now, while I am not 100% opposed to being set-up (as I am still stupid, hopeful, and not completely jaded when it comes to dating), I’m not sure my boss should be doing the setting up, and I am not sure his (whoever he is) parents should know about it before I do.

At this point, I was just waiting for this kid to jump out of a closet and seal the deal on this hair-brained scheme.

Instead, in a less reproductive-tract stalling maneuver, Mrs. Neighborwoman pushed the conversation towards her son. “He is such a nice guy, he is a big boy, here look at pictures of us at his brother’s wedding…”

She looked up at me, and I am supposed to say what? “So, is there a family name I should consider for your grandson?” But instead, I was polite, I nodded and smiled. I thanked them for the wine and the company when I left. I complimented their lovely home and backed out of their driveway seriously hoping I had made a good impression.

What? I don’t even know the guy. Fortunately, my impending wedding hasn’t been brought up since. Looks like we are going to have to postpone it. I hope we can get our cake deposit back.

Thinking

part of me hates you.

headache, stupid

the mid-hangover run was a bad idea. My shiny new asics did not relieve the pounding in my head. boo.

competing for attention

purge part 3:

so part of the reason for all of the purging is because I was binge reading. I was spending my time with vampires. (some of you may know where I am going with this…)

There, I said it. Vampires.

I spent a good amount of time the last two weeks reading the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t romp around in t-shirts with dragons on them, accented by tapered jeans like a bad episode of MTV’s Made. I do, however, work with a lot of high school students, and these books seemed to be popular (I know, understatement of the century).

OMG. Go get the first book, Twilight, and read it. Don’t question it, just do it. You will thank me later.

dirrrtty knees

Seriously, my knee is bleeding. Get the Neosporin, stat.

No, have no fear C. is not back in the picture, and we did not reunite against the cold concrete walls of a bathroom in a club, downtown (oh sorry, my fantasy, not yours).

I love my kickball team. I love that they adopted me as one of them. They are such an awesome bunch of people, I am currently having a hard time grasping the fact that more people don’t get out there and be social. My life isn’t all that boring (and when it is, I stir up plenty of drama) but I merely invested one night a week, and I think I have found people that I will be content hanging out with for years.

It’s simple. Tonight, the game was close. They scored, we scored, and hey, I even caught the ball. I injured my knee after over-running second base, and had to crawl back to the base after my legs failed me.

A few beers after a win, however, seems to ward off the stinging feeling that accompanies both past loses and a scraped knee. Go team!

besties*

Purge part 2:

My roommate’s best friend came to stay with us last week. It was perfect- just like all occasions are with best friends. They painted each other’s toe nails and shopped. They drank wine and discussed relationships, parents and jobs. I excused myself when the conversation got too personal and let them have their moments.

As a result, I couldn’t wait to have mine with my best friend. So I met my her in San Francisco and we reveled in the fact that we were reunited. We ran in the Bay to Breakers race dressed as Flintstones, and drank 2 bottles of wine over a baguette and cheese in the Ferry Plaza. We caught up on past episodes of Grey’s and dissected my love life over another bottle of wine later in the weekend. We talked pregnancy, Brazilian waxes and marriage with a former roommate from college and her brand new boyfriend (yes, I think we officially scarred him for life). We skipped to Loehmann’s slightly buzzed in search of discounted designer jeans and cocktail dresses. We squeezed every girlie moment out of the weekend.

I miss her, but somehow we stay connected. We get the stresses in each other’s lives and we flawlessly pick up right where we left off.

Monday morning, I returned to SD rejuvenated.

And then my car died in the parking lot of a Taco Bell (don’t ask what I was doing there), and a bunch of crack addicits walking around suburbia in bikinis helped me jump start my car. All that was accomplished Monday was unsuccessfully channeling the feeling I had at the wine bar, sitting across from my her, toasting to friendship.

*”besties” kind of makes me gag, so I thought it appropriate.

Fireworks Fail

please excuse the blog barf that will take place over the next few days. I have been hoarding things to divulge, and I think I have finally had enough. A pure purge will commence shortly.

Purge Part 1:

I feel fantastic. I am guilt-free (pretty good for a girl who was raised Catholic). I don’t worry about telling my friends about C., because there is nothing new to tell. I don’t fret over when he will call me back, because I don’t feel compelled to return his attempts at contacting me.

I realized it a few days after receiving a text that I didn’t think too much of at the time. We were talking about a hypothetical guy and this girl <insert barf here> and he texted something along the lines of “She shouldn’t take it personally, maybe he just doesn’t know what he wants and can’t commit.”

Drumroll, please. That text did nothing to me at the time. I read over it a few days later and decided that those are two of the worst things I could ever tolerate in someone, and he offered both. He honestly threw both of them out there, IN THE SAME SENTENCE. First of all he can’t decide, and then even if he does, he can’t commit? Waste O’ Time right there!

And the best part was that he told me, straight out, honestly. He didn’t hide it, or not cop up to it. How much more clear of a message did I need? He typed it right there for me to read. He could have put it in fucking fireworks, and I would have shamelessly flirted back.

I feel free and ready to meet someone who wants to spark some fireworks of a different sort.

half-empty

If I could I would have taken all the hurt away. I know you are feeling crappy, and are doubting if you should stay there. But I have also seen how happy he makes you, and how his eyes acknowledge, everyday, that he wouldn’t be able to go on without you.

Do your parents know what is best? I would put my money on yes.

I don’t think you know now what you want. More importantly I don’t think you are willing to give up the trade off. Parents or husband? I know you couldn’t live without them, and I know you would resent him for driving them away.

I wish I could fix it. Eventually (really long eventually) your parents will come around and apologize for thinking of keeping you from the love of your life. But you will have given up a life with them to be with your soul mate.

Or eventually, you will leave him, because the trade off is too much, and you will meet someone, and know that the love of your life is out there waiting, and you let those acknowledging eyes go.

And hopefully, instead of the solution that leaves you half-empty, you will find that the man for you that can negotiate all of the things that are important to you. Because after all, it just isn’t right unless your parents approve and you are madly in love. And he will be perfect and you will thank your lucky stars and all of your exs that you finally love the man that can give you everything you truly needed.

Because, after all, half-empty only means that there is another half yearning to be filled.