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This weekend was good. Splendid even.

Its been awhile since I could say that. Well, say it and have it mean my weekend entailed more than sitting on the couch with the kitteh watching Battlestar Galactica. Which isn’t to say that those weekends were/are bad, just … well. I like more than that. I love to lounge with the best of them, but after awhile? I get fidgety, I get bored, I get antsy. Weekend tv marathons are a must for me while I hermit/hibernate and recover myself. But now? Game on.

Friday night involved RedFairy, alcohol, some potentially illegal substances and DiveBar burgers, which. The DiveBar burgers? BEST IN THE CITY. Hands down.
I discovered DiveBar through the expedient way of working across the street from it when I first moved to town. We’d order lunch from there, or swing by and grab a beer after work. It had a bar poker night Tues/Thurs that I started going to on a lark.  DiveBar taught me how to play Texas Hold ‘Em. I got pretty good at it too. My skills were all gleaned from the older players, who took the time to let me watch, perched behind them. I would see how they played their cards, sometimes asking why quietly and they’d lean back and tell me. Or they’d stand behind me when their game was over and watch as I played, sometimes with advice, moreoften with none. I learned slowly, but I learned. I even ‘won’ two of the games, which means I got a special chip. The chip could have bought me entrance into the Grand Ol’ Game downtown. I never went.

I’ve thought about going back and slipping back into the game. I’m sure some of the guys are still there, though more won’t be. But it’d be nice to be back in that rhythm. Another way to meet more people – to learn more about this city I’ve lived in for what feels too long.

This bar was the first place that felt like home to me. Weekend nights I’d start off at the college dance bars that were just a few miles down the road, but without fail, I’d end up at DiveBar. Entirely too far to walk, tho I imagine I may have once. More likely I just made friends and got myself there. In hindsight beyond stupid, but when you’re 22 and drunk and pretty… you disregard lessons learned when you were 5.

So Friday was bonding time with RedFairy. As much as I’ve been going through – she has been going through it tenfold. Her man and here were living together, in a house they bought together, when she realized they wanted different things. I was forunate enough to realize that about my relationship before it got to that point. Scary thing, I could have easily seen it going to that point. When you want something to work so badly…. But it didn’t get there, it didn’t work. It resulted in me, in a better living situation than I have been in years and the opportunity to go home again. Even if it was just to grab burgers.

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So. Lets expound upon HS. I mentioned him briefly earlier in regards to re-connecting with a group of guy friends from HS. HS is now known as TheSinger. Since he has a habit of singing (sometimes just loudly humming) along with the radio, theme songs, background music.

TheSinger and I were friends in HS; we actually dated for about 3 months. I was 15 or 16, infatuated with the idea of an older man (he was… 22? 23?) and he was very sweet and smart. Worth nothing that I then (and now) generally preferred older men, which lead to my other friends referring to my dates who came with “walkers”. 23! Walkers! Oh har har. I’m still a li’ salty about that.

Anyhoodles. So. TheSinger and I didn’t work out in HS because … well, no one’s fault. I realized I just wasn’t that interested in him. Nothing to do with him, it just wasn’t… sparking for me, no zsa zsa zsu. It was a fairly amiacable breakup, we still hung out with the same group. Well they hung out together and they continued to let me tag along (I was the young one amongst them).  And then we all reconnected over this past summer.They saw me go through not being with NiceGuy to being with him, to not being with him.

One night in the midst of while NiceGuy and I were not together, but on our way to being back together – I was on the phone with TheSinger making dinner for him (NiceGuy, not TheSinger). In the midst of the convo a pot started boiling over, so I got off the phone rather abruptly. NiceGuy showed up shortly after and as TheSinger and I weren’t in the middle of a scintillating conversation when I abruptly hung up, I didn’t think to call him back. Which lead to him texting me the following that night “Just so you know, I’m not trying to date you”.
*scrrrr wha? I had thought no such thing, and responded with that, letting him know things were cool. That I had just gotten caught up with dinner, then company was over and said company was probably there all night, so… yeah. I didn’t call him back. No big deal. I was slightly taken aback that he needed to clarify but was okay that he did because then I knew we both were on the same page: The Friend Page.

Fast forward to this past weekend. Now, TheSinger was constantly after me to hang out, which, okay, I am awesome. And he seemed to be the planner of the group, arranging hikings, wine tastings, etc, so I thought nothing of it. Until this past week. My January’s schedule was absurd, and I knew there was no socializing in there for me – so we’d talked about hanging out in early Feb. Did our normal thing – dinner/tv. He intro’d a new (to me) tv show that I fell in love with and he left. Still on the just friends page. But the next day, I get texted asking to go to a concert. Out of the group, I’m the only one in town, so I figured he just needed company; I already had plans and couldn’t make it. So  he gets another one of the guys. That, combined with recent… something, a feeling I had, I had wondered if he was angling for a date. But he asked one of the other guys. I tell myself to stop overthinking and my ego needs to knock it off Disarming.
Another one of the guys, Tech, was having a board game party this Saturday(which both Tech and TheSinger mentioned to me) but I had babysitting duty that night.

I get a text from TheSinger on Friday, asking what time I’m babysitting and telling me to come to the party then go babysit. Well, I wasn’t up for drinking then watching someone else’s kids so I declined.
He texted me the day of the party telling me to come after, but it would be late, so again no.
Then he texted asking when I was done, he’d stop by my place for a nightcap since I missed the drinking there. Well, still no clue how late, so again, no.
I was texted on his drive home, asking me to go to a wine tasting the next day. This next day being Valentine’s Day, and he made no mention of anyone else joining us. I am again starting to overthink and wonder… I again decline because I’ve already got plans with my kittens (shopping: 2 pairs of new heels, a new wallet and a Happy Valentines Day present to me!)

I hear from him rather consistently on Sunday, but still tell my ego to knock it off and pipe down. Monday is President’s Day, a free day we have off at my company. So I sleep in until *cough*1:30. And lounge around, do practically nothing, and fall back asleep at 7:30ish. I wake up at 10:45 pretty foggy brained and planning on showering and then back to sleep. I check my phone, just in case. Four missed texts (within 25 minutes of each other). A call (two hours later). A voicemail. All from TheSinger. I shoot him a text to let him know I wasn’t just ignoring him, I’d been sleeping. He calls. At 10:45 at night. I’m still mostly asleep and hoping to stay that way.
I know somethings coming, but we both make chitchat, and then bam. He asks what I think about going out with him. Note: he does not ask me out on a specific date, but asks what I think about us going on a potential date. I turn him down (see above: still no spark, no zsa zsa zsu) and mostly, I’m just kinda surprised… and if I’m honest with myself, a little disappointed. I couch my response in terms of still recovering from NiceGuy, which while true… I also know I had seen the end coming with NiceGuy and I am ready to date someone. I just haven’t met anyone I’m actually interested in getting to know more about. I also bring up how I don’t want to date someone from within a group of my friends again. I know that my breakup with NiceGuy isn’t what caused the destruction of the Circle of Trust (our ol’ group), that destruction had been on its way for awhile, but without NiceGuy or I to keep it together… the Circle is now just Arcs.
(heh. geometry humor, my HS math teacher would be so proud!)
TheSinger and I chat for a little while longer, and then I plead off – still hoping to shower and get back to bed and sleep before 12. No such luck, I was awake till 3:30 in the morning.

I had wondered after his strong (and seemingly out of nowhere) “am not interested” text if it was a case of him protesting too much, but had been willing to take it at face value and kept things friendly. There was no overt flirting, no leading on (at least to my eyes) and yet, he felt enough of something there that he wanted us to go out.

The next day I had a text from him, wanting to know about maybe setting up a recurring event, where we could hang at his place and watch some tv/eat dinner. This rapid fire turnaround immediately put me in this frame of mind:
A) he was never that interested and is more than willing to go back to being just friends.
B) he still IS that interested and is trying to be just the best gosh darn guy friend evar.

I let him know my schedule won’t allow anything recurring like that, and that it kinda feels date-y to me. So maybe we shouldn’t, just for a little bit. He doesn’t understand how its date-y now, when it wasn’t before. I explain its because he put the date on the table, whereas before it wasn’t even a possibility. We were friends. This entire conversation has taken place over text. Its at this point he asks me to call when I’m headed home so we can chat. So I do, begrudginly, because I kinda hate having to explain myself. Especially when I think its possible I’m going to hurt someone. Hopefully within*that conversation, I finally got through to him that even tho I said no and we have never gone on a date: the parameters of our friendship have changed.

He has expressed interest and I’m aware of it (now). I feel that I have to re-judge how hanging out with him will be it. Its no longer two buddies. Its a girl and a boy. And said boy, wanted to date, to kiss, to get, the girl. That changes things. I hate that it does, but it did. I know he was hoping that it wouldn’t. But, it did.

I shouldn’t talk about staying injury free and not hurting myself, because then? Then I do.
Went out to a show last night with one of my girls, BlueFairy. Great show, entirely too many drinks (red bull / vodka / splash of grenadine), entirely too much dancing and walking around without a coat…

All was great – her bf was our DD. I do so love having a free taxi driver. Especially one that detours to Wendys. Ahhh drunk food. Got back to her place, ate, helped em move a mattress, sobered up, and went to drive home. It has been snowing a lot lately, and the streets/sidewalks are not really clear and in this area, not really even either. Down I went.  Made it to the car, defrosted it and the rest of myself and headed home.

It was a great night, exactly what my newly single self needed after two dinner party evenings. A night out on the town with booze, greasy food, and good peoples. I, of course, managed to make at least 4 new friends over the course of the evening. I also bought cigarettes (I don’t smoke… much) and was passing them out at the bar. Because why not!

And then I fell. And as I drove and I started wondering if I’d really hurt myself again and if I’d need crutches and if I did, if I would borrow NiceGuy’s again. It hit.
I missed him. I missed crawling into mussed sleepy sheets with him. Coming in from outside and how he’d wrap over and around and under me until I got warm. Waking up, slightly hungover to bad jokes and awful breath and the way he’d look at me that would break my heart. I wanted to call him. 2 in the morning on a weeknight. He wouldn’t answer. I know that sober, but then, at two in the morning…. I wanted to believe. Believe that he’d hear the phone and see my name and he would answer. That this time things would be different, he’d realize what he was letting go and he’d refuse to do it. But he never refused anything.
Except me.
I”m a fickle bitch. I know that even if he had answered and we’d had that moment… eventually I would have resented him. Resented that I had to be the one to weaken first, to bend first, to make that call. That while he missed me and we were doing this again, I was the one who had to admit that I wanted him more, first.

So I called Carrots. And I called RedFairy. And finally I called BlueFairy, the friend I’d just left, knowing she would still be awake. She talked me through the drive, up the stairs, into my safety.  I showered and fell into bed.

No regrets this morning, except a twinge in my foot and one in my heart. Because even in the stark light of day… I still want to believe that if I’d called…. he would have answered.

So I hear anyways. I have an officemate on the phone with her boyfriend and another stretched out taking a nap. So blogging it is! At least for another 20/30 minutes.

So yes, this blog thing. I really do need to be more present with it. But I find myself scribbling at home with my journal and my sharpies and my multicolored pens (I’m still 13, I swear) and it just seems… easier. I’m being psuedo anon here and its harder than I thought. Because having blogged in the past, it always seems to come out. I guess I’m lucky that most of my friends don’t really read blogs or blog or get the whole concept of it? But I also feel like I miss out and that if I was around more people who wrote, I’d find myself writing more. Kind of that whole – surround yourself with people you admire type thing.

But at least I’m writing. Or scribbling, even if it is other people’s quotes who then inspire me on tangents that meander along for 3-4 pages. See what I’m saving you from!?

Brief Update: Still at same job (still kinda loving it). Was able to take on some more responsibility and realized exactly how much I could love it. Definitely not meant to be a cubical monkey, but if I have to put my time in here, so I can get out there. Well, I definitely will do this. I haven’t felt this excited for something in ages. I can be really good at my job – now it just becomes making sure that I follow through with this.
NiceGuy and I broke up. Again. But this time for real. I don’t know if I finally came to my senses or he did, but… as much as I wanted him to be PerfectForMe, he was just GoodForMe. Still necessary given some of the winners I’ve picked in the past, but I couldn’t… I just couldn’t keep beating on the locked door to let me in. Two years man. Thats a helluva long time and if you’re not in the comfort zone by then? You’re probably never going to get there. So. I’m learning to let go. Thats kind of my lesson for 2010. In with the good, and out with the bad.

That lesson is wicked hard for me, I moved around a lot as a kid, so I’ve never really had to deal with leaving people (while still in the same proximity to them). And I’m… well, I’m discovering I’m a little bit of a doormat. I agree to plans with people because they want to see me, not because I want to see them. And I’m a sucker for people when they come around – which brings me back to NiceGuy. Tho its been almost a month, I haven’t heard from him. Due to some internal changes within our group, we no longer fall together like we used to. That being said, I’m sure that we will start to in the spring again and I’m sure that there will be some regrets and some looks and probably some flirting. But I’m counting on myself (and my girlfriends where needed) to keep me from going back. If at 35 (almost 36), after 2 years with me he can’t see what I need and how compromises are needed? Not the guy for me. I do deserve someone who is as swoony over me as I am over them, and who notes the little things that I like.

So fortunately, no accidents causing harm to my person have occurred lately (its been like 3 months – WRITE THIS DOWN). But with the holidays and the rents being in town, then traveling pretty much the entire month of January – I found myself farther and farther away from this blog.

We’ll give this another shot (this is what the seventh incarnation?). Maybe this one will stick.

So I had an interesting evening last night. A few months ago, NiceGuy and Asshole were over and we were watching “Army of Darkness”. Out of nowhere, I remembered the original group of GuyGeek friends from HS, as they were the ones introduced me to that cinematic masterpiece.

Out comes the crackberry and I’m on FB searching for them.
One is in Iraq, to be back shortly (Solider).
Another still works in our HS town and lives just south of me (HS).
Another is married now, tho that was no surprise, he was always a relationship junkie (Tech).
And another just completed his divorce and now has  new live in gf, and lives just north of me (Bear).
So we set about getting reconnected.
HS and I had a nice lunch, followed by some leisurely shopping one Saturday, as well as a nice dinner at my place a few weeks later (amongst the spate of injuries and funerals that I was attending).
Solider and I have been reconnecting via email and phone (esp now that he is back in Alaska, to be home SHORTLY!!!).
And Tech and I exchanged a few phone calls and finally met up for dinner last night.

Four bottles of wine later.

Oof. Apparently he didn’t even make it to lunch, and went home after a half day. I’m still plugging away, am not quite sure why except that I am a stubborn biatch.  Each time I see these guys its been great to see them – and it was *amazing to see Tech last night. Until around the third bottle of wine. We were talking and reminiscing about old times and somehow the subject came to why we fell out of touch – SIX YEARS AGO. And he remembers it very clearly… I… do not. At all. So he proceeds to tell me his side, where yes, I was an insensitive little bitch who didn’t put his feelings very high on my list. I can only plead at this time I didn’t realize how important my friendship was to him? I was in the middle of dealing with my parents moving to another state while I was in college, holding down two jobs, two majors, and dealing with some roommate drama. I just… didn’t think. It was never anything intentional or a deliberate move to hurt him. In hindsight, I rather wish it was, so I could feel guilty and very sorry. As it stands, I’m sorry we fell out of touch, but still not.. well not quite sure what happened.
So then shortly after he stopped talking to me, I went to my parents’ new house for the summer (different state), continued to work two jobs, ended up back at school and met TheEx. The rest, as is the cliche, is history. I fell for TheEx, then came Scotland, then came more of TheEx, dealing with that bullshite, and then, then came an easy year of recovery from TheEx. Where, as I told him last night? I drank most of my pain away. Drinking and Target. Oh so hard on the pocketbook, oh so exactly what I thought I needed.

He told me last night that one of his regrets was the fact I wasn’t there to stand up at his wedding. My heart broke. Cracked right down the middle. Of course last night I was full of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I can only say I’ll be better going forward’. This morning, in the harsh light of day I’m wondering why he never tracked Me down if he missed me that much. I was on myspace, am still on FB. Granted, hidden, but we had enough mutual ties through high school and other friends he could have found me.

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely take the blame for the end of the friendship, I should have done more, tried harder. At the time the friendship dissolved I was 20-something halfway through college, trying to determine what I was going to do for the rest of my life and busy living it up. True to my form, all these guys were older (4-6 years is the spread I believe), so they were already out in the world and starting their lives. I was scattered to all the winds.

It leaves me with some mixed feelings. Oh so ever glad I’ve re-found this group, as they were fairly instrumental in my teens. These would be the guys who taught me to drive a stick, showed me where and how to punch someone if I was ever touched in a way that was not okay by me, introduced me to”Spaceballs” and “Army of Darkness”. And yet, if I was this important and he was that sad – how do you let someone like that just walk away? Slap me upside the head, write me a heartfelt email/letter and explain things. Shake me until I see it.

I can’t fix anything if I don’t know something is wrong.

I do feel it ended on a good note, a promise of renewing friendships and we’ll see where it goes. Of course, I am going to have to rub in his face that I matched him drink for drink and made it through work the next day. He… did not. And that of course, deserves shaming. Finally! I can outdrink em. But on that note? I think I’m pretty done with wine. For at least like a month.

They say before you can truly fall in love you have to have had at least two relationships.

One where you get your heart broken. And another where you break someone’s heart.

Now, I have several things to break down within that idea. What if you get your heart broken and also break someone’s heart at the same time. Cuz I’ve done that.

I’m sure I’ve bruised someone’s heart since and I know I’ve had mine bruised back. But as far as broken? There really was only the one. Its possible I just haven’t let anyone get that close since (possible, hell, I know its true). And the one I wanted to let that close showed little to no interest in scaling those walls and seeing whats behind. At least, not in the way I was used to seeing.

So that has left me here. 26 and with one great heartbreak. One great love.

Not saying I want to go back to that. I look back at that relationship and think, yeesh. We were over the top, absurd and insane about each other. To the point of exclusion of almost everything else (including my studies, whoops!). And it was glorious, while it lasted.

“And I loved him, Jesus how I loved him. It wasn’t love of course, even I can see now that it was infatuation, but at the time it near enough killed me. Its so passionate, so intense, so painful, that even years afterward you still feel the hurt when you hear their name.” – Jane Green, Straight Talking

After TheEx I went back to my old ways, dating around, finding guys who fit the niche that I need them (my sports guys / arty film guys / casual Saturday guys), until NiceGuy – we were just always hanging out together, even if he didn’t do my music or my artier stuff, we spent most time together. It was kind of natural that we fell the way we did.

Also natural that we fell apart the way we did. Its still hard. Its by no means as hard as TheEx – I couldn’t even bear to look at his picture / emails / blog / etc for over a year after he and I ended. NiceGuy, we’re doing the friends thing, or at least trying… Sometimes with his hair all mussed and still sleepy… it kills me to not lean over and plant one on him. Or nestle myself right into that crook where I know I’ll fit just so.

I really need to step up my game on this. I’ve already got a long list of more to post – and haven’t even finished my last list.

You should never have to convince someone to like you. But when you do – in hindsight, the ending seems rather obvious.

However, to tell the ending, we have to start at the beginning.

NiceGuy and I were friends first, for about a year and a half. I never really went there with him, thought I always thought he was cute – mostly because he was so Nice. I don’t really do nice. I like the heartbreak and the angst and the passion. And then the group got smaller – and he and I consistently seemed thrown together, and then came the night where he suggested I crash in his bed instead of on the couch.

Oh, huh, that seems fairly obvious. Guy invites Girl to sleep In his bed. And from there? We slept. For three months.  And nothing else. Ever. Good conversations (and by conversations I mean I would ask questions and pry answers out, occasionally actually getting one), and late evening, intimacy was there, and I began to fall. Hard. He was so Nice and everything was always so comfortable with him. I would wake up, hungover, hair like poof, makeup smeared and the conversations would continue – over brunch or on the couch together.

But then we kept adding alcohol. Eventually the right combination of alcohol and sleep deprivation and sexual tension made us snap. I snapped first – in the hallway to the bathroom at a dive bar. We didn’t speak of it. Then he snapped, while wasted on his birthday. And after that we fell into a … something. Every weekend we were at his place or my place, during the week, general texts back and forth. Until – I realized he wasn’t in it. Just going through the motions. So I cut it off.

Then in December he started coming around again – all actions were on him. He was actually making plans and reaching out to see me. I figured it would be different, despite him telling me on NYE he wasn’t interested in a relationship. All his actions were saying different. We were inseparable for 4 days over the holidays, even after his admission.

So we kept doing what we do – every weekend, many weeknights, and gradually just fell into a routine. It was still comfortable, nice, better than the first time around. I started to let myself fall. We had been ‘together’ for a year and half – his response when asked at a wedding by my friends. I wasn’t even aware that we were considering us together. I would catch him referencing him and I as an ‘us’, ‘our’ plans, etc. And it gave me a warm glow, I liked how NiceGuy and I were becoming linked – NiceGuy and Disarming. Even our names sounded good together. There was starting to be some pressure from friends – having seen how happy we were together – wanting to know plans. I don’t really do commitment, so I danced around them – and NiceGuy always deferred to me on those questions. He excels at the non-answer answer.

And then, with the advent of this summer, I felt NiceGuy start to pull away. Not so much it was obvious – but he was less engaged, more willing to break plans and not hanging out as much.  I have admitted to myself I’ll always love the guy – he is a nice guy at the heart of it. But I couldn’t be in love with someone who wouldn’t let me. And the move into my new apt was something that made me reevaluate … well everything.

And so, one Friday evening, after his poker game – we had The Talk. Sprinkled with “I never meant to hurt you”s and “we’ll still be friends”, we called it quits. A quiet breakup. One that left my heart more bruised than broken.

I didn’t cry that weekend. Actually until this past Saturday I hadn’t cried about it at all. I’m not sure if that was because I didn’t care enough to cry or I just thought it wasn’t the end. I’m trying, oh so very hard, to stick to the break up this time around. Probably part of the reason I’m writing this all down. Written word always seems to reverberate harder with me.

No more reaching over to smooth down the cowlick, no flirtatious glances across the table, and no handholding as we drive to the bars. No more cuddling on the loveseat and watching bad 80s movies I should have seen the first time around but missed because “I wasn’t born yet”. No more texts when I am just thinking about him, or giving him crap for playing too much xbox and being antisocial.

I’ve had both kinds of breakups. TheEx and I’s breakup was so shattering he actually had to call the landlord to get me to leave his apt (in my defense there were pictures I wanted off his laptop before I left…), that one took me a solid month to think of him without an actual pain in my heart. And then at least a year to actually get over him. And I can freely say there are still parts of my heart locked away from others. TheEx was the only one to get that close.

NiceGuy – we had a quiet break up. Not unlike our relationship. Quiet and controlled, no hysterics, just general sadness at the ending of … not quite a something, but a possibility of something great. The breakup, like our relationship, was rather bloodless.

Two kinds of love – two kinds of heartbreak. Having now had both, I’m not quite sure which was more devastating.

I do hope in this aftermath that NiceGuy and I can remain friends – its important to our entire group dynamic. But I also know that when we’re out at the bar, sometimes our eyes catch – lately I’m always the one looking away first.

So. Summer Oh-Nine. Seems as good a time as any to give this whole blogging thing a go. Again. I think this is like my fourth start. Probably another false one, but hope springing eternal and all that. I feel like I always try to start these in the summer months.. wonder what that means.

Hopefully, this is different, a lot more like when I started the original, the legend. I want to write more, to stay in the habit – so I can look back at these days and remember. And so can others (perchance with careful editing).

I’m alone now.
I have my own apartment.
Very. Own. Apartment.

Its something I was never sure I would do, but always knew I wanted to. And when my relationship with NiceGuy was going so well and my relationship with GuyRoommate deteriorating, well, the new apartment came about rather quickly.

Granted it is me, so even quickly there were file folders and notes and copies of floor plans and visits. But we found it, and like all my big life decisions I knew when I walked in. It was more than I had wanted to spend / budgeted for – but was cheap enough I could budget for it.

So without further ado, I let GuyRoommate know I was moving out and managed to cajole all my boys into helping me move (damn sprained ankle). We got everything done in a weekend. Granted the unpacking took a little longer (and by took a little longer I mean still going on).

And I’m not quite settled yet. Not sure I ever will fully be.  The best part about it all? Also known as the most overwhelming part of it all – is that it is all mine. No one else to shuck blame onto, no one else to tell me not to paint something. All mine to have and to fuck up.

So NiceGuy. That probably deserves another entire post. Let’s see what else to catch you up on.
–         Nice Guy
–         Driving Debacle
–         MusicalTheater’s latest exploits
–         My Life List (I wanna be like Maggie when I grow up)
–         Parentals Visit
–         Bonnaroooooo
–         Canoe Trip

Long story to come – NiceGuy and I broke up. Again. But I think for good this time. Given that what I’ll need for a Round III from him includes a trench coat, boom box, and potentially some fake rain outside my bedroom window… and I know him – so that will never happen.

However, since the break up there has been contact by at least three ex-boyfriends to me. WTF, I no longer have myspace and I *never check my facebook profile, did an email alert go out? Is there a blog about my dating life that I’m just not checking? Cuz seriously, I could use some dish about some peoples.

Anyways, without fail, contact by these people never fails raise emotions and questions and… and.

I’m alone now.

It was all at once.
He was everything I wanted
appearing in black and white
I was a firefly with premature wings.
no visible scars.
Proud.
We drank bottles of wine and I let him tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
He looked at me, sipped, and I swallowed.
He wanted me in color.
I wanted things he couldn’t give me
I decided to see how long I could pretend it didn’t matter.
He told me I glowed and ran two fingers along the ridge of my spine.
I held my breath and he named freckles on my back that I’d never seen.
He thought I was beautiful and held my face still to tell me so.
I squirmed.
It was easier not to believe him.
He was
40 minutes
Late.
A handsome stranger bought me vodka cranberries
Black high heels dangling from a bar stool
I waited
40 minutes too long.
I dressed in ruby slippers and chased tornados.
He spoke another language and
I asked him to use it when he touched me.
I saw him enter my room as a thief
He wore the shirt I picked out for him and I felt invaded.
I set out books he did not bother to read
I threw him out of my bed and bought him coffee the next morning.
He refused to lie
I refused to negotiate when I was naked.
In the end when he left, I saw he’d taken nothing more than what I’d given him
The loss was spectacular.

Everyone has that one guy. The one that you will always remember. Not necessarily your first crush, but definitely… something.

My first crush was Shea Stamp. I remember his last name only because “stamp” was one of our spelling words in first grade. And I already knew how to spell it.

Between first grade and freshmen year, there were several crushes.

But I didn’t have too many, I was a tomboy and boys were for playing tag, war, hide & seek, or Nintendo.

But every once in awhile, one would sneak in.

Then I made one last move. Started a new school (again). The bus stop was on the opposite side of the block and I knew no one there. The neighborhood kids all played so well together, had known each other for years.

And then there was me.

My first experience with him, he locked me out on his roof. I had been hanging around with the other kids for a week or so, they all liked me. We got along great, a regular bunch of misfits as kids that age generally are.

And he locked me on his roof.

In retaliation, I threw a can of pop at him. From the roof. It landed at his feet and exploded all over.

Then I threatened to climb down the fireplace and let everyone else in. His brother let us back inside, finally.

It was always explosive with him. Time went on, and I harbored my crush secretly, oh so secretly – rarely even telling friends. He collected hearts like it was his job, I didn’t want to be know as “one of those who liked him”.

My best friend at the time had a crush on him.

My best neighborhood friend dated him.

I never said I wanted him.

I was the good girl, I didn’t talk back (at least to teachers), I never snuck out (that my parents knew), I never went beyond second base (until Keith my senior year). I made excellent grades, I said please and thank you. I was the girl next door.

I never knew that he had felt the same pull.

He was the bad boy, too outrageous for me in my mind; I was too tame, too unoriginal.

I was the good girl; mostly pleasant, “perfect” was a word he would later use. He was messed up, dealing with family issues and alcohol.

Then there were the nights he would inspire me to sneak out, just to wander the neighborhood in the dark and talk. Just talk.

There were the days he would crack jokes about himself, to take attention off others.

We brought out the opposite sides in each other.

I thought he was too wild.

He thought I was above him.

Until this past New Years, when I was above him, I never knew any of this.

He told me as we lay in bed, that he used to dream about my “dancer’s legs”.

I never even realized he knew I danced.

Its okay to believe in Prince Charming, but you have to believe in midnight too.

disarming (adj): tending to allay suspicion or hostility; winning favor or confidence siren (noun): a seductive or tempting woman, esp. dangerous or harmful

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