I was sitting on my couch tonight, just relaxing in silence. No lights, no television, no music, no commitments; just me and my thoughts. There are times when that precious little slice of peace is the best part of my day or week. Other times, it's torture. I guess it all depends on where my mind wanders.
Sometimes, the two sides get mixed up. Something that at first seems horrific leads to a little bit of clarity and perspective. Sometimes, something that sounds so good in theory can end up snowballing into feelings I don't want. This time, I'm not sure which is which.
On the surface, I'm feeling incredibly vulnerable. Typically, this is not a feeling most people want to have. Feeling vulnerable, either physically or mentally, has so many side effects and associated stigmas. People equate vulnerable to waiting for the other shoe to drop: for them to be hurt, for them to be forgotten, for them to be deemed part of the problem and not the solution.
But I believe that there are two types of vulnerability, and I believe that sometime it can be a good thing.
Inside that good vulnerability lies hope.
Everyone is vulnerable. Everyone feels lost sometimes, or forgotten, or hurt. There's a connection that every person has to each other: people want to feel fulfilled and safe, and they find that security through each other. So maybe vulnerability isn't necessarily a bad thing if within the correct context. Maybe our vulnerability is what leads us to open ourselves up more than we ever thought possible, and maybe it's that same unshielded part of us that acts as a beacon for those who can and want to mend that insecurity. Who can make us feel alive. Invincible.
I want to feel invincible. Safe.
I want someone to see my vulnerability and then make the effort to look deeper, like I do for others.
I want for someone to see me for who I am: yearning for attention, busting at the seams to find someone to give my absolute unwavering love, aware that I have so much to offer and yet so much to learn from other people.
I want someone to open themselves up enough to show me their fears, their hopes, their goals. And I want to be able to help them be the best person they can be while they help me do the same.
Maybe that's possible, and maybe it's not. I have no idea. I can only keep putting myself out there on display for the world to see and hope for the best.
Hope is all I've got.
I just want that to be enough.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Getting to be that time...
I'll be home in less than two weeks. My original plan was to write in here more often, plotting my course along my brain as I moved 3,000 miles across the country and lived on my own, albeit temporarily, for the first time in my life. Alas, it seems I was too busy living said life to update this blog. I'd actually written something one night when I was pretty drunk, posted it, and then took it down out of respect to the subject of the rant and partially because of remorse for the language I used.
It's been an up-and-down trip, I'm not going to lie; I really did expect this whole experience to go differently than it has. Girl-wise, work-wise, adventure-wise...it all seemed to unravel pretty quickly. Sure, I've had some good times and met some great people (even some from Boston who will be back in the area when I am! I'm so excited for that!) but there were some things I wanted to do that won't get done:
1) I will not have found the woman of my dreams. I thought I had her but it was a mirage and I am that much more beaten down because of it, sad to say.
2) I won't get to see Los Angeles. Weekends have been uber-filled and I don't think it's going to happen this time around. Funny enough, though, a trip from Boston to LA no longer seems like a long-distance ordeal now that I've lived here.
3) I won't get to take a short, one-hour flight to Vegas. Thankfully I went in June so I'm not heartbroken; plus, I went to Reno and it's just like Vegas...only filthier.
4) I expected to come to work and be a conquering hero to this group. That is difficult when I wasn't given access to their systems, they don't know any of mine (even though we had training classes to teach them since WE bought THEM), and I'm caught up in the red tape of an IT group that just doesn't "get it" and a VP whose one love in life seems to be burying his staff in unnecessary paperwork and screen prints which diverts them from, oh, actually doing their jobs.
Anyway, I'll be home in less than two weeks. It'll be an adjustment to the cold, the time difference, and the expenses. I can't tell you how cool it is to not only have zero expenses out here but also get paid extra money just for being in California. It's pretty badass; I've been able to pay off a chunk of my student loans and the plan is now to stick around Wakefield until the spring and then find an apartment close to work. I'm sick of paying for parking on top of the T fares. I've also been losing weight by living on my own and therefore cooking for myself; I'd like to keep doing that.
I have more to write, but I want to take this time to type out something I wrote last night in bed. "The girl who was but isn't" stayed over here last night (she does that on occasion and there's nothing romantic or physical about it, much to my chagrin) and the futility of the whole thing hit me like a tidal wave. I am constantly fighting for the things that I want, even if they aren't what is best for me. I bend over backward for this girl who doesn't want me; I argue with a VP who only sees his way; I am loyal to a myriad of people who leave me to be the sole cheerleader on my behalf. So I got up, scribbled a bunch of stuff into my notebook (I only do free-writes; otherwise I manage to neuter the entire piece during the editing process), and went back to bed; I was still sad but at least my brain had quieted.
So here it is. I call it Uppercut.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am always fighting
for what I love
for what I believe in
and for those who believe in me.
I am always fighting
against what I know to be true
when I don't want to believe it
because believing means admitting you've failed
admitting you're just not worth it
if not to yourself, then to others
I am always fighting
to spend less time in my head
too much time in there
dissecting every piece
tearing everything apart
soaking them with tears and self-pity
pity for my own damaged thinking
and the pity she feels for me
that part, I'm certainly NOT imagining
I am always fighting
my instincts
hoping it can be different
praying it will be different
from an atheist to a zealot
in one easy step
And with the next step, off the ledge
I am always fighting
to hold on to my sanity
in a world that is always trying to take it
a world where the time is never right
the pieces never fit
I've either missed the train
or I've been hit head on by it
two objects, full of steam
the steam of power, sweat, blood
against that of delusion and misplaced hope
I am always fighting
not to have it end
like it always does
picking up the puzzle
straining out my heart
from the pathetic pool at my feet
I am always fighting
to convince myself of my worth
that I'm more than I think I am
but in the battle between brain and pity
it's me against the world
deep down, it is as it has always been
not good enough
never good enough
I am tired
the constant struggle to pick myself up
to be my only support
has left me as fragile as an eggshell
and twice as disposable
how many rounds
before I see I'm past my prime
still too scared to throw in the towel
some misguided optimism, perhaps
Battered, bloody, bruised
but not yet defeated
dizzy, struggling
but not yet knocked out
I can't watch anymore
stay down! stay down!
why bother propping yourself up
just in time to take one in the teeth?
Please, stay down
do it for my sake
let me be at peace
It's been an up-and-down trip, I'm not going to lie; I really did expect this whole experience to go differently than it has. Girl-wise, work-wise, adventure-wise...it all seemed to unravel pretty quickly. Sure, I've had some good times and met some great people (even some from Boston who will be back in the area when I am! I'm so excited for that!) but there were some things I wanted to do that won't get done:
1) I will not have found the woman of my dreams. I thought I had her but it was a mirage and I am that much more beaten down because of it, sad to say.
2) I won't get to see Los Angeles. Weekends have been uber-filled and I don't think it's going to happen this time around. Funny enough, though, a trip from Boston to LA no longer seems like a long-distance ordeal now that I've lived here.
3) I won't get to take a short, one-hour flight to Vegas. Thankfully I went in June so I'm not heartbroken; plus, I went to Reno and it's just like Vegas...only filthier.
4) I expected to come to work and be a conquering hero to this group. That is difficult when I wasn't given access to their systems, they don't know any of mine (even though we had training classes to teach them since WE bought THEM), and I'm caught up in the red tape of an IT group that just doesn't "get it" and a VP whose one love in life seems to be burying his staff in unnecessary paperwork and screen prints which diverts them from, oh, actually doing their jobs.
Anyway, I'll be home in less than two weeks. It'll be an adjustment to the cold, the time difference, and the expenses. I can't tell you how cool it is to not only have zero expenses out here but also get paid extra money just for being in California. It's pretty badass; I've been able to pay off a chunk of my student loans and the plan is now to stick around Wakefield until the spring and then find an apartment close to work. I'm sick of paying for parking on top of the T fares. I've also been losing weight by living on my own and therefore cooking for myself; I'd like to keep doing that.
I have more to write, but I want to take this time to type out something I wrote last night in bed. "The girl who was but isn't" stayed over here last night (she does that on occasion and there's nothing romantic or physical about it, much to my chagrin) and the futility of the whole thing hit me like a tidal wave. I am constantly fighting for the things that I want, even if they aren't what is best for me. I bend over backward for this girl who doesn't want me; I argue with a VP who only sees his way; I am loyal to a myriad of people who leave me to be the sole cheerleader on my behalf. So I got up, scribbled a bunch of stuff into my notebook (I only do free-writes; otherwise I manage to neuter the entire piece during the editing process), and went back to bed; I was still sad but at least my brain had quieted.
So here it is. I call it Uppercut.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am always fighting
for what I love
for what I believe in
and for those who believe in me.
I am always fighting
against what I know to be true
when I don't want to believe it
because believing means admitting you've failed
admitting you're just not worth it
if not to yourself, then to others
I am always fighting
to spend less time in my head
too much time in there
dissecting every piece
tearing everything apart
soaking them with tears and self-pity
pity for my own damaged thinking
and the pity she feels for me
that part, I'm certainly NOT imagining
I am always fighting
my instincts
hoping it can be different
praying it will be different
from an atheist to a zealot
in one easy step
And with the next step, off the ledge
I am always fighting
to hold on to my sanity
in a world that is always trying to take it
a world where the time is never right
the pieces never fit
I've either missed the train
or I've been hit head on by it
two objects, full of steam
the steam of power, sweat, blood
against that of delusion and misplaced hope
I am always fighting
not to have it end
like it always does
picking up the puzzle
straining out my heart
from the pathetic pool at my feet
I am always fighting
to convince myself of my worth
that I'm more than I think I am
but in the battle between brain and pity
it's me against the world
deep down, it is as it has always been
not good enough
never good enough
I am tired
the constant struggle to pick myself up
to be my only support
has left me as fragile as an eggshell
and twice as disposable
how many rounds
before I see I'm past my prime
still too scared to throw in the towel
some misguided optimism, perhaps
Battered, bloody, bruised
but not yet defeated
dizzy, struggling
but not yet knocked out
I can't watch anymore
stay down! stay down!
why bother propping yourself up
just in time to take one in the teeth?
Please, stay down
do it for my sake
let me be at peace
Sunday, September 27, 2009
No, they really call it "Sac".
For the first time in two months, I'm nervous about this trip.
Maybe it's the turbulence we've been experiencing for the past thirty minutes. Maybe it's just my annoyance toward the kid in front of me who, in between playing with loud apps on his iPhone, has continuously rocked his seat back and forth trying to get comfortable, hitting my netbook with each back-and-forth motion. Or maybe this trip was never truly real to me until I realized that there's no turning back now. Not that I want to head back to Boston but it's such a radical shift, even if it's been anticipated for months.
More turbulence. This is getting ridiculous, almost as bad as the lightning storm on the way back from Vegas. I say almost because I'm not quite at the required level of near-pants-shitting fear that was reached in early June.
Anyway, I think it's the turbulence and not the fact that for the first time I'm going to be living out of state for more than a couple of weeks. Certainly the first time I'll have lived by myself...well, ever. There's a new assignment waiting for me, clouded in mystery and borderline befuddlement in respects to my role in the conversion, I've connected with a woman from Boston who is working in Sacramento until March and I'm meeting her for the first time when she picks me up from the airport. I'm super nervous about that; she's gorgeous and certainly out of my league though she insists she's not. She says she loves the way I talk, and she likes the way I treat her. That's a great feeling, except that I've heard that before and then in the next breath there's a sigh and a break-up, or a denial of a third or fourth date. I know how it works in the end; it's either physical attraction or bust. Them's the breaks.
I'm nervous about the size of my studio apartment. I've never lived in a studio. I'm the type of person who loves having people over to my place for drinks or to watch a game. That's nigh to impossible now unless it's one person and we still haven't gotten out of bed yet. I don't even know if there will be a couch in the place.
I'm nervous about my parents fending for themselves this fall, and especially this winter if my contract gets extended. My parents are not young and the driveway isn't going to clear itself, That reminds me, I'll have to call around Wakefield when I land and see if I can pay a plow to clear out the snow for my parents. I can't imagine it will cost much. My sister is moving to Beverly so she will not be around the house much. She's moving in with her boyfriend and I'm a little nervous for her as well, just from personal experience vis-a-vis leasing a place with a significant other and the complete and utter failure that came with it.
All of this nervousness is just leaking out of me, dying to escape so that maybe I'll be too scared to go through with it. But my nerves don't understand that it's having the opposite effect; by the time I land it will be completely drained and will have dissipated completely. That's my hope, anyway. There's so much to look forward to once I arrive in Sacramento: a new job, a possible love interest, new streets and areas to explore, 10am Patriots games (complete with brunch and booze), and a much-needed change of scenery. I feel like I've been stuck in second gear for almost a year and I am ready to speed up. I want to feel the rush of knowing that I am on my own, creating new memories and new friendships, learning and growing as a person as I traipse through the next chapter of my life,
It's scary and I'm nervous. I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way when they get to this juncture. If you haven't, then go out and scare the shit out of yourself. You'll be surprised what you learn about yourself. The petty shit that used to be so goddamn frustrating and heavy no longer seem all that important, They've been put back into their small places with the rest of the insignificance that attaches itself to people. I can't imagine an experience like this will be anything but beneficial to me and the people I love who want to see me soar and who will reap the rewards of my tiny, corporate vision quest.
And away we go.
Maybe it's the turbulence we've been experiencing for the past thirty minutes. Maybe it's just my annoyance toward the kid in front of me who, in between playing with loud apps on his iPhone, has continuously rocked his seat back and forth trying to get comfortable, hitting my netbook with each back-and-forth motion. Or maybe this trip was never truly real to me until I realized that there's no turning back now. Not that I want to head back to Boston but it's such a radical shift, even if it's been anticipated for months.
More turbulence. This is getting ridiculous, almost as bad as the lightning storm on the way back from Vegas. I say almost because I'm not quite at the required level of near-pants-shitting fear that was reached in early June.
Anyway, I think it's the turbulence and not the fact that for the first time I'm going to be living out of state for more than a couple of weeks. Certainly the first time I'll have lived by myself...well, ever. There's a new assignment waiting for me, clouded in mystery and borderline befuddlement in respects to my role in the conversion, I've connected with a woman from Boston who is working in Sacramento until March and I'm meeting her for the first time when she picks me up from the airport. I'm super nervous about that; she's gorgeous and certainly out of my league though she insists she's not. She says she loves the way I talk, and she likes the way I treat her. That's a great feeling, except that I've heard that before and then in the next breath there's a sigh and a break-up, or a denial of a third or fourth date. I know how it works in the end; it's either physical attraction or bust. Them's the breaks.
I'm nervous about the size of my studio apartment. I've never lived in a studio. I'm the type of person who loves having people over to my place for drinks or to watch a game. That's nigh to impossible now unless it's one person and we still haven't gotten out of bed yet. I don't even know if there will be a couch in the place.
I'm nervous about my parents fending for themselves this fall, and especially this winter if my contract gets extended. My parents are not young and the driveway isn't going to clear itself, That reminds me, I'll have to call around Wakefield when I land and see if I can pay a plow to clear out the snow for my parents. I can't imagine it will cost much. My sister is moving to Beverly so she will not be around the house much. She's moving in with her boyfriend and I'm a little nervous for her as well, just from personal experience vis-a-vis leasing a place with a significant other and the complete and utter failure that came with it.
All of this nervousness is just leaking out of me, dying to escape so that maybe I'll be too scared to go through with it. But my nerves don't understand that it's having the opposite effect; by the time I land it will be completely drained and will have dissipated completely. That's my hope, anyway. There's so much to look forward to once I arrive in Sacramento: a new job, a possible love interest, new streets and areas to explore, 10am Patriots games (complete with brunch and booze), and a much-needed change of scenery. I feel like I've been stuck in second gear for almost a year and I am ready to speed up. I want to feel the rush of knowing that I am on my own, creating new memories and new friendships, learning and growing as a person as I traipse through the next chapter of my life,
It's scary and I'm nervous. I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way when they get to this juncture. If you haven't, then go out and scare the shit out of yourself. You'll be surprised what you learn about yourself. The petty shit that used to be so goddamn frustrating and heavy no longer seem all that important, They've been put back into their small places with the rest of the insignificance that attaches itself to people. I can't imagine an experience like this will be anything but beneficial to me and the people I love who want to see me soar and who will reap the rewards of my tiny, corporate vision quest.
And away we go.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Where no one notices the contrast of white on white...
A great weekend, but one that scared the crap out of me.
It was GORGEOUS out this entire weekend; the sun was out, it was warm, no wind or significant rain in sight. I grilled. :-) I also feel like I gained a lot of insight and managed to stress myself out at the same time. I think a lot of the time those two go hand in hand, insight and panic.
I learned that there is no way my parents survive up here in New England if I ever leave. I mean, I love Boston but I've always wanted to see what California would be like for six months. I don't think that's a possibility if they stay up here; there's just too much upkeep with the lawn and garden. Collecting and splitting firewood for the stove has become a three-season process. My parents are old; my dad limps on a bum ankle and has smoked cigarettes for almost fifty years. My mom is great from a domestic point of view but can't turn on a computer or do any heavy yardwork or lifting. My sister helps at times but she's got her own life to live; she'd rather be at the beach or out with her boyfriend/girlfriends than to ask "what can I do to help?" So it gets stuck on me.
Not that I'm not grateful for everything my parents have given me: I live rent-free at home, they paid for two years of college, and I've never been significantly let down by them. But I'm starting to wonder when I'm going to be able to make the choices I truly want to make without having to factor in other people. Maybe I never will; hell, maybe the people I think are making choices for themselves really aren't. Maybe the ones that truly are independent are a whole lot more miserable than me.
A choice I am trying to make for myself is whether or not to buy a house this year. There are plenty of reasons to buy now: the prices are low, the rates are great, there's a huge tax credit provided to first-time home buyers. But I came to a realization tonight that scares the shit out of me.
I was sitting on my porch with a beer, just lounging around in the warm air. It's a great feeling, being completely at peace. But as I sat there I started to feel loneliness creeping in around the edges. The truth is, I started getting bored sitting out on the deck by myself. Not bored in the sense of "I should be out in a bar or at someone else's house enjoying this" but more in the sense that I wish I had someone else with me at my place. There was an emptiness there I just couldn't shake.
That's what scares the shit out of me. If I buy a place for all the reasons I listed above, I'm going to be alone. Sure, people can visit and hang out but at the end of the day I'm going to be alone in some big house. I'm going to be talking to no one when I get home from work. I'll be lying in bed wishing more than anything that there were someone next to me to talk to; the gentle murmuring between two people as they fade off into sleep holding each other. Do I really want that? Do I really want to feel even more isolated and alone than I feel now? But can I really give up the opportunity to buy now and lose out on all the great reasons to purchase a home?
I've already decided that I don't want a condo; I don't want to pay some condo association $250 a month to take out my trash and shovel my walkway. I can't justify paying the same amount in rent that I would for a mortgage payment and having nothing to show for it. And I sure as hell won't live at my parents' house until I find the right woman and get married. Basically...I'm fucked because I want to buy a house but not be lonely inside of it. Awesome.
Speaking of being fucked (and I'm not going to an inappropriate place, don't worry) I had the pleasure of sitting next to a bunch of my ex's friends at a bridal shower today. The men of the wedding party were bribed into going with promises of free food and good-looking women. I actually had a blast though I had to duck out a little early. It was just ironic that I ended up at the same table as four women who graduated with my ex. Well, not really ironic, per se, since the bride-to-be also graduated with her. It was just a little awkward to be sitting next to a woman who doesn't really talk to my ex anymore and didn't know for sure that we'd even broken up until I talked to her (yikes); a woman I went to high school with who is fabulous in every way but is still really good friends with the ex; a woman who I've only seen when I was with my ex so I always associate her with said ex; and a woman whose wedding reception I went to in October of last year - the place at which I realized that I was no longer in love with the person my ex had become, leading to my decision to dump her three days later. Yeah, that was awesome.
So, where am I at now? I'm afraid to leave my family behind because they need me. I'm afraid to buy a house because I know I'm going to end up with a raging case of space madness from being alone all the time. I'm pretty sure the last seven years of my life are going haunt me for as long as they can. I'm afraid that I'm not going to have anyone to share my fears with other than this fucking blog and a night or two out with friends who either:
a) don't understand;
b) even worse, do understand but can't open up because we're surrounded by other people who don't understand; or
c) worst of all, think they understand but, since they don't, I could give a fuck less what their opinions are.
And people wonder why I drink so goddamn much.
It was GORGEOUS out this entire weekend; the sun was out, it was warm, no wind or significant rain in sight. I grilled. :-) I also feel like I gained a lot of insight and managed to stress myself out at the same time. I think a lot of the time those two go hand in hand, insight and panic.
I learned that there is no way my parents survive up here in New England if I ever leave. I mean, I love Boston but I've always wanted to see what California would be like for six months. I don't think that's a possibility if they stay up here; there's just too much upkeep with the lawn and garden. Collecting and splitting firewood for the stove has become a three-season process. My parents are old; my dad limps on a bum ankle and has smoked cigarettes for almost fifty years. My mom is great from a domestic point of view but can't turn on a computer or do any heavy yardwork or lifting. My sister helps at times but she's got her own life to live; she'd rather be at the beach or out with her boyfriend/girlfriends than to ask "what can I do to help?" So it gets stuck on me.
Not that I'm not grateful for everything my parents have given me: I live rent-free at home, they paid for two years of college, and I've never been significantly let down by them. But I'm starting to wonder when I'm going to be able to make the choices I truly want to make without having to factor in other people. Maybe I never will; hell, maybe the people I think are making choices for themselves really aren't. Maybe the ones that truly are independent are a whole lot more miserable than me.
A choice I am trying to make for myself is whether or not to buy a house this year. There are plenty of reasons to buy now: the prices are low, the rates are great, there's a huge tax credit provided to first-time home buyers. But I came to a realization tonight that scares the shit out of me.
I was sitting on my porch with a beer, just lounging around in the warm air. It's a great feeling, being completely at peace. But as I sat there I started to feel loneliness creeping in around the edges. The truth is, I started getting bored sitting out on the deck by myself. Not bored in the sense of "I should be out in a bar or at someone else's house enjoying this" but more in the sense that I wish I had someone else with me at my place. There was an emptiness there I just couldn't shake.
That's what scares the shit out of me. If I buy a place for all the reasons I listed above, I'm going to be alone. Sure, people can visit and hang out but at the end of the day I'm going to be alone in some big house. I'm going to be talking to no one when I get home from work. I'll be lying in bed wishing more than anything that there were someone next to me to talk to; the gentle murmuring between two people as they fade off into sleep holding each other. Do I really want that? Do I really want to feel even more isolated and alone than I feel now? But can I really give up the opportunity to buy now and lose out on all the great reasons to purchase a home?
I've already decided that I don't want a condo; I don't want to pay some condo association $250 a month to take out my trash and shovel my walkway. I can't justify paying the same amount in rent that I would for a mortgage payment and having nothing to show for it. And I sure as hell won't live at my parents' house until I find the right woman and get married. Basically...I'm fucked because I want to buy a house but not be lonely inside of it. Awesome.
Speaking of being fucked (and I'm not going to an inappropriate place, don't worry) I had the pleasure of sitting next to a bunch of my ex's friends at a bridal shower today. The men of the wedding party were bribed into going with promises of free food and good-looking women. I actually had a blast though I had to duck out a little early. It was just ironic that I ended up at the same table as four women who graduated with my ex. Well, not really ironic, per se, since the bride-to-be also graduated with her. It was just a little awkward to be sitting next to a woman who doesn't really talk to my ex anymore and didn't know for sure that we'd even broken up until I talked to her (yikes); a woman I went to high school with who is fabulous in every way but is still really good friends with the ex; a woman who I've only seen when I was with my ex so I always associate her with said ex; and a woman whose wedding reception I went to in October of last year - the place at which I realized that I was no longer in love with the person my ex had become, leading to my decision to dump her three days later. Yeah, that was awesome.
So, where am I at now? I'm afraid to leave my family behind because they need me. I'm afraid to buy a house because I know I'm going to end up with a raging case of space madness from being alone all the time. I'm pretty sure the last seven years of my life are going haunt me for as long as they can. I'm afraid that I'm not going to have anyone to share my fears with other than this fucking blog and a night or two out with friends who either:
a) don't understand;
b) even worse, do understand but can't open up because we're surrounded by other people who don't understand; or
c) worst of all, think they understand but, since they don't, I could give a fuck less what their opinions are.
And people wonder why I drink so goddamn much.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
...and the living's easy.
It's funny; I didn't originally intend this blog to be some therapeutic mechanism for me. I was just hoping for some funny musings on life with just a dash of cynicism, wit, and maybe a life lesson or two mixed in. Then again, maybe deep down this was the direction I always intended to take it. I've always been the type of person who needs to get things off my chest; "introverted" is not a word usually used to describe me and I'm proud of that. Introspective, sure, but not shy. Maybe this blog was always destined to be a place where I can discuss me with...well, me.
This seems to be working for me; you know, it's ironic (on a conscious level, anyway) that I started this blog up pretty soon after I got engaged. Maybe I saw it all coming and just needed to start venting now; maybe that way I wouldn't have started a blog simply as a vehicle to explode after I became single. I'm just waiting for the day when I can mark milestones with something else besides either "since I got engaged" or "since I've been single". It's a little depressing and, to be frank, more than a little pathetic.
Alas, the blog has mutated into something that isn't going to draw people in. And maybe I'm ok with that now. Although I will tell you that I learned a few things last night at the Celtics game:
1) I think I'm pretty much done with Family Guy. Some drunk 40-something tried to chat me up about them and I realized that he's too goddamn old to be watching it. And then I realized that maybe I'm too old to be watching it. Sure it's funny sometimes, but do I really still want to spend my Sunday nights tethered to the TV watching cartoons? I'm starting to think the answer is "no", especially since the weather is going to get nicer real soon.
1a) Corollary to #1: I intend to enjoy this summer. No excessive work hours, no dealing with other peoples' self-loathing, none of that. I'm just going to enjoy being alive and being happily surrounded by my friends. In fact, if someday I wake up to realize that I'm stuck in a Groundhog's Day situation forever, I would hope that day would be an 80-degree day in June: wake up around 7:00; hit a round of golf; take a shower; pick up some quality encased meats at Karl's Sausage Kitchen; buy some Sam Summer; invite people over; and spend the day in the sunshine, grilling and eating, drinking and laughing and playing games. People would download whatever they wanted to hear off of iTunes, I'd put it on the iPod, and it would play all day through my speaker dock. Then we'd get the fire pit going once the sun went down and make s'mores until we all just fell asleep on blankets on the grass. If there were a heaven, that would be it for me.
You know what? I don't care anymore about the list of things I learned yesterday. Imagining the perfect day while I typed that literally made my week. I like feeling that good; it makes me hopeful that the shit going on in my head over the last week or so is only temporary, like this week-long rain storm that's going to evolve into an 80-degree Saturday.
I feel my thoughts becoming more scattered over the past couple of weeks. I think "restless" is the word I'm looking for. I both love and hate the fact that I'm single coming into the spring; I love being able to go out and meet people but I hate not being able to share with someone every great thing I'm feeling because of the weather. I used to love bringing a blanket down to the Common and just laying there with someone, reading a book and getting some sun or even just talking and laughing with a picnic lunch and wondering why everyone else was doing something other than just being there on the grass.
You know what else is great? I finally had a memory of the past seven years involving my ex that wasn't accompanied by any bitterness whatsoever. That's actually the first time that's happened "since I've been single". Wonders never cease. I feel better than I have in ages, just because of that. Well, I'll be goddamned. On that note, I'm off to bed.
Note: I apologize to anyone who actually read this whole thing and is still wondering what the hell the point was. I know it's not the most interesting read in the world because it's just an outward inner monologue at this point. But I feel great, so I'm not really sorry. If you stop reading this blog, I hope you enjoyed your stay. But I feel great. Good night!
This seems to be working for me; you know, it's ironic (on a conscious level, anyway) that I started this blog up pretty soon after I got engaged. Maybe I saw it all coming and just needed to start venting now; maybe that way I wouldn't have started a blog simply as a vehicle to explode after I became single. I'm just waiting for the day when I can mark milestones with something else besides either "since I got engaged" or "since I've been single". It's a little depressing and, to be frank, more than a little pathetic.
Alas, the blog has mutated into something that isn't going to draw people in. And maybe I'm ok with that now. Although I will tell you that I learned a few things last night at the Celtics game:
1) I think I'm pretty much done with Family Guy. Some drunk 40-something tried to chat me up about them and I realized that he's too goddamn old to be watching it. And then I realized that maybe I'm too old to be watching it. Sure it's funny sometimes, but do I really still want to spend my Sunday nights tethered to the TV watching cartoons? I'm starting to think the answer is "no", especially since the weather is going to get nicer real soon.
1a) Corollary to #1: I intend to enjoy this summer. No excessive work hours, no dealing with other peoples' self-loathing, none of that. I'm just going to enjoy being alive and being happily surrounded by my friends. In fact, if someday I wake up to realize that I'm stuck in a Groundhog's Day situation forever, I would hope that day would be an 80-degree day in June: wake up around 7:00; hit a round of golf; take a shower; pick up some quality encased meats at Karl's Sausage Kitchen; buy some Sam Summer; invite people over; and spend the day in the sunshine, grilling and eating, drinking and laughing and playing games. People would download whatever they wanted to hear off of iTunes, I'd put it on the iPod, and it would play all day through my speaker dock. Then we'd get the fire pit going once the sun went down and make s'mores until we all just fell asleep on blankets on the grass. If there were a heaven, that would be it for me.
You know what? I don't care anymore about the list of things I learned yesterday. Imagining the perfect day while I typed that literally made my week. I like feeling that good; it makes me hopeful that the shit going on in my head over the last week or so is only temporary, like this week-long rain storm that's going to evolve into an 80-degree Saturday.
I feel my thoughts becoming more scattered over the past couple of weeks. I think "restless" is the word I'm looking for. I both love and hate the fact that I'm single coming into the spring; I love being able to go out and meet people but I hate not being able to share with someone every great thing I'm feeling because of the weather. I used to love bringing a blanket down to the Common and just laying there with someone, reading a book and getting some sun or even just talking and laughing with a picnic lunch and wondering why everyone else was doing something other than just being there on the grass.
You know what else is great? I finally had a memory of the past seven years involving my ex that wasn't accompanied by any bitterness whatsoever. That's actually the first time that's happened "since I've been single". Wonders never cease. I feel better than I have in ages, just because of that. Well, I'll be goddamned. On that note, I'm off to bed.
Note: I apologize to anyone who actually read this whole thing and is still wondering what the hell the point was. I know it's not the most interesting read in the world because it's just an outward inner monologue at this point. But I feel great, so I'm not really sorry. If you stop reading this blog, I hope you enjoyed your stay. But I feel great. Good night!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Abundance
So I wrote something last night. I'm not sure if it's a song (because it doesn't rhyme), a poem (because I didn't follow any sort of rhythm), or a story (because it's not terrible coherent). I guess it's a jumbled mess, and it's my mess. And it's called Abundance. And now I know how you know I'm gay.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have so much anger inside of me sometimes
that I just want to punch right through the wall.
Instead, I work out and I strain myself.
I'd like to say that it feels good,
that the pain, the sweat, the fatigue,
that they all make me feel more alive
more vital.
But that's a lie.
I do it because as shitty as I feel
as tired, sweaty, and overheated as I end up,
it's still better than how I was feeling before.
When my anger was all I could think about.
Now I'm too tired to care.
Maybe that's why people have kids.
Maybe the the constant sense of exhaustion
keeps you from going insane
keeps you from rolling over
and hating who you've become
or what you've become.
Maybe this is as good as it gets.
I have so much to offer to someone else
that gets lost in the shuffle of youth.
The packaging ain't pretty and it ain't neat;
it isn't something you run to on Christmas morning.
I'd like to say I have so much patience,
waiting for the right one to open me up
and get the the best surprise of her life.
Something genuine, something hopeful,
something else entirely.
I had that once, you know;
she opened me up and I was sparkly, shiny, warm.
And then I lost my gleam
And then I lost her.
Islanded in a stream of unlearned lessons
because people don't change
they just pretend, over and over.
I'm re-gifted to no one, tucked in a drawer
the wrong color sweater, headed for Goodwill
I'd take any good will at this point.
I have so much contempt for the world
A world that refuses to change
because change is fucking HARD.
It doesn't happen overnight
it won't make you richer
it won't make you prettier on the outside.
And if you don't get unwrapped then you don't get seen.
We all like the idea of "new and improved"
but we don't want new. Not really. Just improved.
"New" would imply having learned something,
having made a self-discovery or two
A moment of clarity
People would rather the ugly duckling turn into the swan
but continue to think like the duckling
than for the duckling to accept itself
and become the swan from the inside out.
It ain't pretty but it's worth it.
I have so much hope that someday
someday soon
I'm going to have my moment.
My moment of undiluted vision
A moment that glares so bright
no packaging will be able to hide it.
You'll be able to see it
no matter how hideous the distraction
No matter what obstacles trick the eye.
And then someone will be smart enough to open me up
It will be the greatest gift I can give
To offer everything I have in this life
And they'll love it
So Much.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have so much anger inside of me sometimes
that I just want to punch right through the wall.
Instead, I work out and I strain myself.
I'd like to say that it feels good,
that the pain, the sweat, the fatigue,
that they all make me feel more alive
more vital.
But that's a lie.
I do it because as shitty as I feel
as tired, sweaty, and overheated as I end up,
it's still better than how I was feeling before.
When my anger was all I could think about.
Now I'm too tired to care.
Maybe that's why people have kids.
Maybe the the constant sense of exhaustion
keeps you from going insane
keeps you from rolling over
and hating who you've become
or what you've become.
Maybe this is as good as it gets.
I have so much to offer to someone else
that gets lost in the shuffle of youth.
The packaging ain't pretty and it ain't neat;
it isn't something you run to on Christmas morning.
I'd like to say I have so much patience,
waiting for the right one to open me up
and get the the best surprise of her life.
Something genuine, something hopeful,
something else entirely.
I had that once, you know;
she opened me up and I was sparkly, shiny, warm.
And then I lost my gleam
And then I lost her.
Islanded in a stream of unlearned lessons
because people don't change
they just pretend, over and over.
I'm re-gifted to no one, tucked in a drawer
the wrong color sweater, headed for Goodwill
I'd take any good will at this point.
I have so much contempt for the world
A world that refuses to change
because change is fucking HARD.
It doesn't happen overnight
it won't make you richer
it won't make you prettier on the outside.
And if you don't get unwrapped then you don't get seen.
We all like the idea of "new and improved"
but we don't want new. Not really. Just improved.
"New" would imply having learned something,
having made a self-discovery or two
A moment of clarity
People would rather the ugly duckling turn into the swan
but continue to think like the duckling
than for the duckling to accept itself
and become the swan from the inside out.
It ain't pretty but it's worth it.
I have so much hope that someday
someday soon
I'm going to have my moment.
My moment of undiluted vision
A moment that glares so bright
no packaging will be able to hide it.
You'll be able to see it
no matter how hideous the distraction
No matter what obstacles trick the eye.
And then someone will be smart enough to open me up
It will be the greatest gift I can give
To offer everything I have in this life
And they'll love it
So Much.
Monday, March 23, 2009
On the 5th day of dating, some woman said to me...
I go on dates.
I know, that seems like a pretty lame opening for a blog post, but I think people sometimes forget that I go on dates. I go on dates nearly every week, whether it be with someone from a bar, someone from a show, a friend or a friend, or wherever else there are available ladies. Recently, for whatever reason, I have been trying (against my nature) to force myself to be interested in people who I normally would want nothing to do with for one reason or another. I don't know if I'm just getting desperate for new blood or what, but I have been trying to fit a square peg into a round hole (that's what she said) for months now.
I was speaking to a female friend of mine and she asked me point-blank: "you seem to find fault with so many people you date; are you just making up excuses? Do you actually have a list of attributes you can and cannot tolerate in a female companion?" Yes, she said "female companion"; can you tell she's older and married? And I thought to myself, well, I guess I've never made a list but I must know what I like and don't like, right? I can't be making up excuses in order to keep myself aloof, could I?
So now I'm making a list. This is a list of the things I cannot tolerate in a "female companion", as well as a list of things I need. These are the things that, at this current moment in my life, directly affect my desire to go on a second date or possibly beyond with a woman. So now you can call me out if you hear something come out of my mouth about a woman from a date that wasn't on this list, ok?
Things I CANNOT deal with if we're ever going to have a future together:
1) You smoke regularly or "just when your drunk". - Smoking on a regular or even semi-regular basis drives me batshit insane for so many reasons. I'm not saying that I don't indulge in a cigar or two per year, but I've never had more than five in a calendar year for as long as I remember and always for an occasion: a golf outing, an outdoor summer party, etc. Not just because it's Tuesday morning and daddy needs his fix.
There's just something so much more vile about cigarettes and the women who smoke them for various reasons. For starters, they smell terrible; they're either reeking of smoke or they're doused in perfume meant to mask the smoke smell. Thanks for the consideration of my nostrils, but if I want to be knocked out by vapors I'll just huff the can of spray paint in my trunk from a ShamWow. Or I could suck down eight cans of computer duster and end up on TV.
And ladies, here's a tip about using the "only when I'm drunk" line for most situations: if you use it, I'll assume that you're drunk most of the time and that you're a skank. It's just been my experience, that's all. And that goes for smoking, drugs, eating a package of under-heated TGI Friday's Potato Skins, and anal...among other things. Or so I've heard. Drinking socially is fine; keeping your local establishment in business single-handedly is not.
2) You're asleep every night before 10:30pm because you'll be a wreck the next day. - Sorry, I don't date senior citizens. I'll be 28 years old in a month. On a typical day I work until 6pm, come home for dinner, and go to the gym. Lately I've also had to contend with rehearsals, performances, an abnormal volume of birthday parties, and helping plan a bachelor party in Vegas.
Here's a secret to how I contend with all that and still manage to keep a social life: I'm not sixty years old. Seriously, if our "relationship" consists of either seeing you or talking to you via the phone on weekdays for the thirty minutes between when I get home from the gym/rehearsal and when you head off to bed, we're not going to make it. I'll guarantee it. I did that for the last year or so of my last serious relationship, and the only reason I put up with it at all is because I spent way too much money to bind myself to her.
3) Your crippling insecurity. - We all get insecure. I'm not terribly happy with how I've let my body deteriorate since college; there's a reason I'm at the gym four nights a week minimum. Sometimes I don't feel as attractive as usual. We all feel that way. The difference is, for the most part I really do like myself. I've never been the type to lack much for confidence or ego because what I may lack in physical appearance I make up for in spades with charm, wit, humor, compassion, and modesty.
You, on the other hand, can barely look me in the eye when you speak to me. You are constantly putting yourself down, or, even worse, speaking ill of others just to make yourself look better or more important. In reality, the kind of person who does that on a constant basis is repulsive to me. I don't want to here how awful someone else is; I want to hear what's great about you and I want to feel like you believe it. Confidence is just so damn sexy. And fake confidence is just so damn transparent.
4) Your need to seem "mysterious" and "complicated". - If you feel the need to play the "you wouldn't understand" or "you wouldn't want to know; it's a long story" cards, then you're right; I no longer give a fuck what you're talking about. I'd rather just take you home.
I'm all about open dialogue (obviously). I want to know what you're feeling, what you're thinking, what make you tick. Tell me about you; you're the reason I'm on the date in the first place. Well, that and the whole "sex" thing, though I won't have sex with someone I wouldn't want to date. Seems a bit hypocritical and desperate otherwise, doesn't it?
The less I feel that you're telling me...I should say, the more I think you're hiding from me, the less chance I ever want to see you again. Being coy is one thing (and that can be quite hot); not being able to carry on a conversation without continuously and inexplicably changing the conversation every two minutes is a different beast entirely.
5) No fat chicks. - I'm just kidding.
::shakes head no::
Things the must be present is we're going to have any future together:
1) You need to be funny. - Humor is the most important thing in a "female companion". If you don't laugh at observational, crude-at-times, deadpan-at-times, embarassing-at-times humor then you're not the one for me. Dead baby jokes died out long ago, funny stories about your pet or the kids you nanny for aren't funny unless one of them ends up on fire or I am personally acquainted with them, and "you had to be there" stories aren't amusing if I wasn't there. If I use a line from the Simpsons, Super Troopers, an Adam Sandler movie, Old School, a Jud Apatow movie, or Family Guy and you don't get it, you're walking home. I'm serious.
Also, Dane Cook is terrible. I suppose I can understand how he might be attractive to women, but let me throw at little S.A.T. action at you:
Dane Cook : Comedy :: AIDS : Africa
2) You need to be at least somewhat interested in sports. - If the Celtics are about to win a championship on your birthday, I'll forego it for you. I'll foresake watching the first Celtics championship win in seventeen years to take you out to dinner, whisk you off your feet, bring you home, and do to you whatever you want for as long as you want.
If you choose instead to head back to your place and then skip the sex to gossip with your roommate/co-worker about the people you work with while you both correct tests while I sit and stew in silent rage because I am trying to be a good boyfriend and not watch the game while you ignore me...we're going to have a serious problem. Ideally, I'd want you to want to watch the game with me but I'd settle for a little understanding that I'm foregoing something important to me to make your birthday something you'll remember years down the road.
And if we can't watch a Sox or Pats game without you turning and asking me what a strikeout or extra point is, you're leaving wherever we are at the time. End of discussion. You want to know what the infield fly rule is? A decent question and I'm happy to answer it. Not sure about the difference between a nickel and a dime defense? Hell, I'll draw you a diagram. If you ask me why so many people like "that Brady guy" so much, I will never respect you. Also, pink hats are BARELY acceptable as accessories; pink jerseys = trailer park. Don't forget that.
3) You will have to like my friends. - If you make me choose between them and you, especially over something petty, I'm choosing them. EVERY TIME. They were here before you and they will be here after you.
4) You need to know how to dress. - Women look HOT in jeans and a t-shirt. Men know this. But you can't wear pants everywhere you go. Skirts are not the enemy. Pantsuits are for lesbians and ugly people. Heels are always a turn-on. Sweatpants are great for around the house or a weekend breakfast jaunt. For a bar? Not so much.
I put time and energy into my appearance because I want to look good when I'm in public and because I want you to look at me and say "wow" once in a while. If I don't see your hair out of a ponytail for weeks on end then you're probably not going to hear "wow" come out of my mouth unless it's followed with "did you just wake up?"
5) You need to be open about what you're feeling and thinking, and be receptive to my thoughts and feelings. - Are you the kind of person that bottles up all of their anger and refuses to speak up when little things bother you until one day you snap and it comes out one day as a flood of emotion, hatred, and irrationality just because I ended a sentence with a preposition? Then to the back of the line with you, please.
If something bothers you, tell me. If I can fix something I'm doing wrong or be a shoulder to lean/cry on then I'm happy to do it. If something make you happy, tell me; I'll keep doing it or I'll find a way to keep it going somehow. If you don't want to talk about it at that precise moment then say so; don't lie to me and say "nothing" is bothering you. There's a huge difference the size of the Pacific Ocean between "nothing" and "I don't want to talk about it right now". I'll respect one but not the other, and
***HINT***
it's not the lie I'll respect.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So that's about it. That's who I want, in a nutshell. And until I find someone like that I'll keep dating and searching, searching and dating. For those of you who have found their someone, congrats; I'm happy for you. For those who haven't, relax; being picky isn't a bad thing, it's a smart thing. Saves you from the heartache later.
Good night, all.
I know, that seems like a pretty lame opening for a blog post, but I think people sometimes forget that I go on dates. I go on dates nearly every week, whether it be with someone from a bar, someone from a show, a friend or a friend, or wherever else there are available ladies. Recently, for whatever reason, I have been trying (against my nature) to force myself to be interested in people who I normally would want nothing to do with for one reason or another. I don't know if I'm just getting desperate for new blood or what, but I have been trying to fit a square peg into a round hole (that's what she said) for months now.
I was speaking to a female friend of mine and she asked me point-blank: "you seem to find fault with so many people you date; are you just making up excuses? Do you actually have a list of attributes you can and cannot tolerate in a female companion?" Yes, she said "female companion"; can you tell she's older and married? And I thought to myself, well, I guess I've never made a list but I must know what I like and don't like, right? I can't be making up excuses in order to keep myself aloof, could I?
So now I'm making a list. This is a list of the things I cannot tolerate in a "female companion", as well as a list of things I need. These are the things that, at this current moment in my life, directly affect my desire to go on a second date or possibly beyond with a woman. So now you can call me out if you hear something come out of my mouth about a woman from a date that wasn't on this list, ok?
Things I CANNOT deal with if we're ever going to have a future together:
1) You smoke regularly or "just when your drunk". - Smoking on a regular or even semi-regular basis drives me batshit insane for so many reasons. I'm not saying that I don't indulge in a cigar or two per year, but I've never had more than five in a calendar year for as long as I remember and always for an occasion: a golf outing, an outdoor summer party, etc. Not just because it's Tuesday morning and daddy needs his fix.
There's just something so much more vile about cigarettes and the women who smoke them for various reasons. For starters, they smell terrible; they're either reeking of smoke or they're doused in perfume meant to mask the smoke smell. Thanks for the consideration of my nostrils, but if I want to be knocked out by vapors I'll just huff the can of spray paint in my trunk from a ShamWow. Or I could suck down eight cans of computer duster and end up on TV.
And ladies, here's a tip about using the "only when I'm drunk" line for most situations: if you use it, I'll assume that you're drunk most of the time and that you're a skank. It's just been my experience, that's all. And that goes for smoking, drugs, eating a package of under-heated TGI Friday's Potato Skins, and anal...among other things. Or so I've heard. Drinking socially is fine; keeping your local establishment in business single-handedly is not.
2) You're asleep every night before 10:30pm because you'll be a wreck the next day. - Sorry, I don't date senior citizens. I'll be 28 years old in a month. On a typical day I work until 6pm, come home for dinner, and go to the gym. Lately I've also had to contend with rehearsals, performances, an abnormal volume of birthday parties, and helping plan a bachelor party in Vegas.
Here's a secret to how I contend with all that and still manage to keep a social life: I'm not sixty years old. Seriously, if our "relationship" consists of either seeing you or talking to you via the phone on weekdays for the thirty minutes between when I get home from the gym/rehearsal and when you head off to bed, we're not going to make it. I'll guarantee it. I did that for the last year or so of my last serious relationship, and the only reason I put up with it at all is because I spent way too much money to bind myself to her.
3) Your crippling insecurity. - We all get insecure. I'm not terribly happy with how I've let my body deteriorate since college; there's a reason I'm at the gym four nights a week minimum. Sometimes I don't feel as attractive as usual. We all feel that way. The difference is, for the most part I really do like myself. I've never been the type to lack much for confidence or ego because what I may lack in physical appearance I make up for in spades with charm, wit, humor, compassion, and modesty.
You, on the other hand, can barely look me in the eye when you speak to me. You are constantly putting yourself down, or, even worse, speaking ill of others just to make yourself look better or more important. In reality, the kind of person who does that on a constant basis is repulsive to me. I don't want to here how awful someone else is; I want to hear what's great about you and I want to feel like you believe it. Confidence is just so damn sexy. And fake confidence is just so damn transparent.
4) Your need to seem "mysterious" and "complicated". - If you feel the need to play the "you wouldn't understand" or "you wouldn't want to know; it's a long story" cards, then you're right; I no longer give a fuck what you're talking about. I'd rather just take you home.
I'm all about open dialogue (obviously). I want to know what you're feeling, what you're thinking, what make you tick. Tell me about you; you're the reason I'm on the date in the first place. Well, that and the whole "sex" thing, though I won't have sex with someone I wouldn't want to date. Seems a bit hypocritical and desperate otherwise, doesn't it?
The less I feel that you're telling me...I should say, the more I think you're hiding from me, the less chance I ever want to see you again. Being coy is one thing (and that can be quite hot); not being able to carry on a conversation without continuously and inexplicably changing the conversation every two minutes is a different beast entirely.
5) No fat chicks. - I'm just kidding.
::shakes head no::
Things the must be present is we're going to have any future together:
1) You need to be funny. - Humor is the most important thing in a "female companion". If you don't laugh at observational, crude-at-times, deadpan-at-times, embarassing-at-times humor then you're not the one for me. Dead baby jokes died out long ago, funny stories about your pet or the kids you nanny for aren't funny unless one of them ends up on fire or I am personally acquainted with them, and "you had to be there" stories aren't amusing if I wasn't there. If I use a line from the Simpsons, Super Troopers, an Adam Sandler movie, Old School, a Jud Apatow movie, or Family Guy and you don't get it, you're walking home. I'm serious.
Also, Dane Cook is terrible. I suppose I can understand how he might be attractive to women, but let me throw at little S.A.T. action at you:
Dane Cook : Comedy :: AIDS : Africa
2) You need to be at least somewhat interested in sports. - If the Celtics are about to win a championship on your birthday, I'll forego it for you. I'll foresake watching the first Celtics championship win in seventeen years to take you out to dinner, whisk you off your feet, bring you home, and do to you whatever you want for as long as you want.
If you choose instead to head back to your place and then skip the sex to gossip with your roommate/co-worker about the people you work with while you both correct tests while I sit and stew in silent rage because I am trying to be a good boyfriend and not watch the game while you ignore me...we're going to have a serious problem. Ideally, I'd want you to want to watch the game with me but I'd settle for a little understanding that I'm foregoing something important to me to make your birthday something you'll remember years down the road.
And if we can't watch a Sox or Pats game without you turning and asking me what a strikeout or extra point is, you're leaving wherever we are at the time. End of discussion. You want to know what the infield fly rule is? A decent question and I'm happy to answer it. Not sure about the difference between a nickel and a dime defense? Hell, I'll draw you a diagram. If you ask me why so many people like "that Brady guy" so much, I will never respect you. Also, pink hats are BARELY acceptable as accessories; pink jerseys = trailer park. Don't forget that.
3) You will have to like my friends. - If you make me choose between them and you, especially over something petty, I'm choosing them. EVERY TIME. They were here before you and they will be here after you.
4) You need to know how to dress. - Women look HOT in jeans and a t-shirt. Men know this. But you can't wear pants everywhere you go. Skirts are not the enemy. Pantsuits are for lesbians and ugly people. Heels are always a turn-on. Sweatpants are great for around the house or a weekend breakfast jaunt. For a bar? Not so much.
I put time and energy into my appearance because I want to look good when I'm in public and because I want you to look at me and say "wow" once in a while. If I don't see your hair out of a ponytail for weeks on end then you're probably not going to hear "wow" come out of my mouth unless it's followed with "did you just wake up?"
5) You need to be open about what you're feeling and thinking, and be receptive to my thoughts and feelings. - Are you the kind of person that bottles up all of their anger and refuses to speak up when little things bother you until one day you snap and it comes out one day as a flood of emotion, hatred, and irrationality just because I ended a sentence with a preposition? Then to the back of the line with you, please.
If something bothers you, tell me. If I can fix something I'm doing wrong or be a shoulder to lean/cry on then I'm happy to do it. If something make you happy, tell me; I'll keep doing it or I'll find a way to keep it going somehow. If you don't want to talk about it at that precise moment then say so; don't lie to me and say "nothing" is bothering you. There's a huge difference the size of the Pacific Ocean between "nothing" and "I don't want to talk about it right now". I'll respect one but not the other, and
***HINT***
it's not the lie I'll respect.
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So that's about it. That's who I want, in a nutshell. And until I find someone like that I'll keep dating and searching, searching and dating. For those of you who have found their someone, congrats; I'm happy for you. For those who haven't, relax; being picky isn't a bad thing, it's a smart thing. Saves you from the heartache later.
Good night, all.
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