Positively Scarred

I understand that you were worried about your precious wood table being ruined when I spilled your cranberry Sierra Mist, but did you really have to yell at me and embarrass me?

I KNOW your cup was sitting there. Logic says a piece of flimsy cardboard should not be able to knock over a full glass if it just touches it. It’s not my fault.

Then you come into my room and get mad because I say I don’t want the last taco. I’m upset and irritated now because you hurt my feelings.

WORDS. FUCKING. HURT.

So, I’ve been seeing T (or as he’s been dubbed by Princess, Gymboree) for nearly a month now. We’ve had a lot of alone time and have been getting to know each other. We’ve been having good times and I’m really liking him.

Last weekend, I spent the night with him. At his place. And we went out. Just us two. We just kept talking, and kept laughing. That was probably our best date. There was no pressure to do anything. It was great, wonderful, fantastic. I really like this guy. I see a lot of potential for us.

So, now the million dollar question… When is it going to be official? Why don’t I take the plunge and call him my boyfriend?

The answers:

• I’m not ready. I’ve only been single for two months (just about) and that was a long, tumultuous relationship. I feel, as Snake told me, there’s more fun to be had. But since I’m afraid of the online dating game and I lack courage to really speak to dudes, I’m not sure how far that fun goes. Maybe I’m not meant to be the “dating around” type. Maybe I was born to perpetually be in a relationship.
• His schedule changed. He went from being off Sundays and Mondays to Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Tuesdays I have dinner with my dad and step mom and Wednesdays are softball nights (step dad is on a team) and I’m not sure if I’m ready to integrate him into either of these weekly events. I could skip either, but I’d rather not. I like having a weekly routine.
• I’m fiercely independent and I feel he may attempt to trample over me. Not that he has… In fact, he’s left most decisions up to me, even though I don’t really care too much about what we do, as long as I’m with him. But, I really let myself go and lost some of my independence in my last relationship and I’m a little leery of letting someone get too close.

As it stands now, he pretty much is my boyfriend, but I’m really not calling him that. To me, labels imply commitment. I’m not committed. Not yet, at least. I don’t know if I will.  Maybe I will.

I feel like I need to be a little picky. I can’t just go committing for the sake of committing. So I’m going to take a little more time, continue seeing him, just see how things go…

But I really do like him.

You know when you meet someone and you have that instant connection with them? It feels like a spark; like someone lit a fire right under your feet. You feel electricity coursing through your veins. Your heart beats quicker. You just know. It’s like the Earth shifts and suddenly things are crystal clear.

That, to me, is how I feel when I meet someone who is my soulmate.

Now, a lot of people think that you can only have one soulmate. But after reading various definitions and having my own personal experience with Earth shifting meetings with different people over the years, I believe you can have more than one soulmate. (But only one true love. But that’s another story.)

I’ve used this term before, and some people can get a little freaked/weirded out by it. Then I’m forced to explain what I mean… It gets irritating that they just can’t accept it without thinking it means I’m in love with them.

When I find a soulmate, I know instantly that that is who they are and forever will be to me regardless of distance, time, communication, etc. If I do happen to lose touch with such a person, despite what the reason is, they come back. Soulmates always find their way back to each other. It’s already been proven for me.

I am not in love with my soulmates; that is not their purpose in my life. They are complements of myself, we mesh well, we are similar in our views of the universe, and they make me want to be a better person. I feel a heaviness in my heart that’s different from love (or the loss of love); I feel a calmness. The bond I share with my soulmates can move mountains, it can stop wars, it can end hunger… The connection I share with them fills me up and brings me warmth. (You know, like the “warm and fuzzy” feeling…)

Generally, I am happier when I am near to them or communicating with them in some form. I swear sometimes we communicate on a psychological plane. I can look at them and just know how they are feeling or what they are thinking. (Intuitive sight, I haz it. It’s something I naturally possess. I can generally pick up on someone’s feelings and can “read” people to a certain extent, but with my soulmates it’s something I feel one hundred times stronger.) My soulmates add to my life and inspire me. Truth be told, I think they feel it, too, even if they don’t believe in soulmates or don’t express the same sentiment. You just can’t deny such an overwhelming feeling.

Soulmates, I believe, aren’t for marrying. I’m not worried about meeting a guy who makes my world spin or who I have a strong emotional/mental/spiritual bond with like I do with my soulmates. (Again, this is where One True Love comes in…) Yes, the guy I marry will complement my life and personality, and he may share a lot of the qualities that I find/see in my soulmates, but I will not use that word for him.

Soulmates are, in my eyes, people you will love and share your life with but know that they are not an average, everyday friend… They are an extraordinary individual. I don’t talk to my soulmates everyday, but I know they are there. They are with me as I drink my morning coffee, as I perform the tedious task of doing laundry, as I sip on cabernet sauvignon with friends… as if they were right there by my side. They are my forevers, my muses, the beat in my heart, the smile on my face…

And they are all beautiful.

Dear Jerkoff Ex-Boyfriend,

First off, I want to thank you. Thank you for showing me how wrong I was about you and how much of an asshole one guy can be. Thank you for showing me how ridiculous I was for believing you and I were ever going to get married. Thank you for giving me more reason to give up on finding true love. More importantly, however, thank you for giving me a reason to leave and find my inner strength. I thought I would be lost without you, but I know better than that now.

To be completely honest, I wanted to leave you much sooner, but the thought of being without you scared me to death so I stayed. I was ridiculed, laughed at, belittled, and emotionally hurt but I fucking stayed because I loved you. I stayed because I thought through all the pain you put me through and the drunken slurs, you loved me, too. I became submissive to you. I did as I was told. I really didn’t talk to anyone else because you’d get jealous. I didn’t say anything about your drinking because you’d just throw a fit and tell me how wrong I was and that you didn’t have a problem. I’d keep silent about the things I believed strongly in, because I would get shit about how stupid it was and how I was wrong for believing in such ridiculousness.

Looking back over the year and a half we were together, I can see where it started to change. I should have left you then. Had I known that things were going to end how they did, I would have. But I didn’t. And I’m grateful because I know better now. Looking back, I should have known from the start. You did the same shit to me that you did to the girl before me, only I fucking figured you out and she still has no clue. All that time my paranoia, fear, and suspicion had solidity. There was truth in everything I was thinking… I should have listened to my gut instinct. This is only the second time I haven’t listened to it, and now I could kick myself for that mistake.

What I don’t understand, really, is what the fuck did you want from me if you were so fucking bored with me? I guess that’s something I’ll never know. Just like I’ll never know why you said all these girls were “gross” or “ugly” and “ew, I wouldn’t touch that with a 10-foot pole” and then you went and fucked them after we split. Oh and now I fucking get it: “Yeah, I really like the name _____. I told her last night, ‘I don’t know why, but I really like your name.’” Reeeaaaal fucking cute. You were basically hitting on her WHILE I WAS IN ATTENDANCE at the same fucking party. Sleazy, much?

Oh, and I just adore the way you were so involved in what I’ve been going through. Making me bring it up instead of asking? That really shows you cared. That night, in your eyes, never happened in your eyes. Here I was, thinking you were such a supportive boyfriend and so caring and tender. Yeah, right. While I was at home in recovery, you were fucking around on me. That’s really sweet. I’m glad you showed me how much you loved me by cheating on me. And that whole shit about, “I need time for myself” when I only saw you twice a week (if that)? I call bullshit on that. If you really fucking loved me, you would have come to see me before work, or after, instead of just Saturday nights. I became your Weekend Fuck Buddy and I didn’t even fucking realize it.

You said you never would lie to me after I caught you in a very fucked off situation. You said you never lied to me before that. You said you never would again. Remember how fucking upset you were over the prospect of losing me? Yeah, you weren’t. You were pissed because you got fucking caught. I see through all your shit now.

It’s amazing how you thought I was the immature one, yet you’re the one who couldn’t say shit to my face. You’re the one who’s still doing the same shit you were 6 months ago, and you’ll still be doing the same shit 6 months from now. You’ll also be the one who will do the same shit to the next girl as you did to me and the girl before. I hope she’s a lot fucking smarter and stronger than I was. I hope she sees through your lies and bullshit way before you have the chance to force her into submission.

Now, I don’t want this letter to be all negative… I do miss our good times. We had a lot of fun, shared a lot of laughs, and enjoyed each others company in general. Remember our trips to the beach? Or to the snow for our year anniversary? Remember staying up late playing Monopoly? You always kicked my ass, but it was fun. Or playing Aggravation? The Game of Life? Hanging out drinking with your mom? I miss those times. I miss the closeness we had, and the good times we shared. I remember you were once so afraid of losing me… What happened to that boy?

I once couldn’t stand to be without you, and now I don’t know how I was ever with you. I’m still really angry at you, in case you couldn’t tell, but I also miss you… the old you. The you I first had in the beginning of the relationship. What happened?

I can’t say I didn’t try, because I really tried. Every-fucking-day I tried. I wanted to keep you. When I felt like I was losing you, I held on tighter when I should have just let you go. But, I know better now. There’s no changing what happened. I’m not going to live in the past or dwell on this anymore. I deserve so much better… And you? I won’t wish a miserable life upon you, because that’s just bad karma. (Something you ridiculed me over…) Instead, I just wish that you don’t kill yourself with alcohol. Oh, and just know that if you ever try to contact me, whether it be through friends or directly, I won’t respond. You don’t deserve a second chance, and we certainly will not be friends. Our last time talking was definitely our last time. If I see you out on the town, I will not acknowledge you. I will not nod your way as a ‘hello.’ I will not walk up and greet you. I will not approach you or your group at all. I will ignore you. I can’t stand you.

All My Loathe,
Your Spurned, Hurt, and Finally Free Ex-Girlfriend

P.S. Remember when I told you, a long time ago, that if we ever broke up that it would take me a long time to move on and even consider dating/having sex with anyone else?
Fuck you.

It’s been a while… Feels like it has been longer than it has. This goes for a lot of things. First off, last weekend was great. The concert I trekked to was awesome. The bands were good (minus Everclear, whose lead singer sounded totally loaded and mumbled most of the lyrics and generally put on a shit show for everyone to scoff about), the weather was awesome, and we (my family and I) were lookin’ HOT. It was a good time all around.

After the show, my evening continued with drinks with Snake and Princess after PC went to sleep. The next morning, we went for brunch and bottomless mimosas—this is where it gets interesting and I was totally caught off guard—where I met a cute, adorable boy who is proving to be the total package. It started off with Snake and I switching seats, because apparently T and I were going to spend the whole time talking across Snake. Which proved to be a correct assumption.Then Snake forwarded us each the others contact information.

We headed back to PC’s house to continue the drinking/football festivities. T and I, with little effort at all, ended up next to each other on the couch. I’ll admit, it was awkward at first. Sitting next to someone like that… Letting him put his arm around me… Letting him kiss me. Swoon. I napped on him during the 49ers game. Awoke to the end of the game, more wine, food, and kisses on the front stoop as I smoked.

Eventually, Snake and I had to leave and she had to return me home and head north a bit to her home.

Fast forward to Monday: T and I are texting. I’m dying because I had no sooner gotten home and was gone again and ended up drinking vodka which proved to be a bad decision. I felt so sick. But he said he wanted to come up and see me. Mind you, this is an hour away from where I am. Says he’ll be at my front door by 4:15. No lie, he was on time.

We left and I played GPS and we went to Starbucks, talked a bit, I felt awkward because I picked up on his vibes of awkwardness. Lots of cute things were said like, “Well I may have to come to Merced more often” and “I may have to change that” (after saying I don’t go out as much as I used to).  I smiled a lot. We lacked things to do… and at this point it’s almost 5:30 and I’m feeling like craaaap. Movie is suggested, then plan is put into motion. Apollo 18. Lots of hand holding… lots of sweet little kisses. It was really quite adorable. Still smiling.

The plan after the movie was supposed to be dinner, but I still felt like crap after so I asked him to take me home. Apologized, said I just wasn’t feeling well. I really did feel bad… I honestly hoped he didn’t think I was bailing on him. So, he drops me off. There’s a guy at the end of the cul-de-sac who drives the same car (different year and color) and he commented on it when he picked me up, and again as he was dropping me off.

I made a comment about how both the guys who lived there are jerks and how I dated one of them for a millisecond a couple years ago. (Mostly to gauge his response to me living down the block from someone I dated.) The response? “Well, I hope this lasts more than a millisecond.” I got a kiss goodnight and a promise he would text me when he got home.

Needless to say, we’ve been texting since. Our conversations are light. I want to take things slow. Basic day to day things are discussed, and occasionally something with more substance comes up. I don’t know if he knows, but he’s telling me things about himself without me directly asking. I’m seeing him Friday. I get cute texts saying how Friday can’t come soon enough, and how this is such a long week, and how the weekend is going to be sooo long until he can see me Sunday. It’s really cute. It’s the right balance of letting me know he’s interested, and coming on too strong.

Stay tuned, because this kitten is smitten. This could be love. Slow and steady, I’ll eventually know. Not rushing into anything. Not limiting myself.

But it would be TOTALLY killer if this became the new “it” thing.

Not too much on the agenda for Friday, aside from a coffee date in the morning.

Saturday promises to be fun. My sister’s boyfriend is going to make us (My sister, himself, my mom, step dad, and myself) some homemade egg and sausage sandwiches + hash browns. Then we’re going to head out to Blazefest in Fresno and watch some pretty cool bands.

Afterward, I will depart from my party and go out and really party with Snake, Princess, and Prince Charming. I’m especially looking forward to this because I get to meet Princess and PC in person before our Epicenter Festival trip next weekend. Also, I’m happy to be involved and doing something with new people.

I’m excited.

After gathering different perspectives from different people, I’ve come to the conclusion that last Thursday’s outing was, in fact, a date. I texted him yesterday because, honestly, the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was and needed confirmation. The text conversation went something like this:

Me: So… Am I crazy if I think that last Thursday was a date…?
Him: I know it seemed that way because I paid. But I would do the same for any lady I hung out with.
Me: Oh, okay. I Knew I was crazy. :P
Him: Sorry for making it seem like it was…

Fuck you, it was a date.

Let me just break it down from you, right here, at the beginning:

I had my first serious relationship at 17 years old (2005). We dated our senior year, and ended the relationship shortly after graduation. Later that summer, I began dating someone else. That relationship lasted a year. So now we’re at summer 2007. December I began to see someone, that turned out to be a mistake. We broke up March 2008. April 2008 I began to see someone else. That lasted until June when I began to see the LDR guy while simultaneously dating my Asian Geek, until it was decided, that fall, that I was going to be exclusive with LDR. My relationship with LDR lasted for a year, until we broke up in the summer of 2009. I floated. I was haphazard and wild and that was the Summer of Bad Choices. I casually dated, but most of the “dating” consisted of hanging out at someone’s house, drinking case after case of beer.  February 2010 I started dating The Ex and that, as you know, lasted until very recently.

After reading two different perspectives on being single, I decided, “What the fuck do I know about being single?” So, for the first time in six years, I’m saying “fuck relationships” and I’m going to play the single card for a while. A long while. Like, decades. Okay, maybe not that long. I’ve been told by different sources that, in basically the same words said a different way, I should be confident in knowing that I’m a good-looking, smart gal and that the right guy will come along and whisk me off my feet and we will ride off into the sunset in his trusty Mustang with a convertible top… (I made that last part up. No one ever said shit about a mustang.)

As a girl who has been perpetually attached over the past six years, it’s time I work on me. Give myself some time. Heed my own advice. I need to let myself flourish as a [single] person. I need to know I can be happy without a boy in my life. But, that doesn’t mean I still won’t let a boy take me out to the movies or for coffee or whatever. But I will do so with the intention of learning. Learning about myself, about the other person, about what qualities I’m seeking out in a potential husband, about what to do or not do in certain situations… More importantly, I need to JUST. BE. SINGLE. And confident. And not give up hope that someday I WILL get married and produce carbon copies of myself (and future husband). 

I know I probably won’t marry the next guy I date. I know I probably will go through moments where I’m frustrated because I just want to be with someone so bad that I obsess over it.

Frankly, I can’t find it in me to give a fuck about another person’s well-being after doing it for so long. I’m not saying that I don’t care about other people, because I do, but it’s different when you’re in a relationship and honestly I just don’t have any patience right now to put up with anyone else’s bullshit. I have enough bullshit to put up with from myself.

So I will content in being a Single Lady and when I am married with children I will look back on this time as The Time of Growth and I will smile because I experienced being single before committing to someone “til death do us part.”

I’m mad.

No, I’m beyond mad. I’m livid.

Here’s what happened:
One of my sister’s BFFs is moving away. So, they had a party for her at my sister’s mom’s house. All cool, right? So today as I’m browsing Facebook I come across her other BFFs status. It’s the standard “Last night was fun, we’re going to miss you ____” shit. There’s a comment. I read it.

It’s one of the girls who attended the party. And she basically said, in not so many words, that she drove home. Drunk.

Cue alarms going off in my head. Cue instant anger. Cue “they should fucking know better” reaction.

My sister, of all people, should fucking know better than to let someone she knows get behind the wheel drunk. And she better damn well know she shouldn’t do it herself.

I know it’s kind of ridiculous for me to be as pissed off as I am. But it’s common sense. This “it will never fucking happen to me” attitude is bullshit. Because it does happen. It’s happening NOW. Right under their noses.

How could they let her? Granted, nothing happened, she made it home. She’s safe. But REGARDLESS, how DARE they allow that to even be an option.

And the kicker? MY SISTER’S MOTHER WAS THERE. She let it happen, also. Someone who is supposed to be a RESPONSIBLE ADULT let a girl who IS UNDER LEGAL DRINKING AGE leave DRUNK to drive home.

I can’t even wrap my head around all this. I’m so mad. I’m livid. I’m pissed. I’m upset.

I cried. I cried to my mom and step dad. I told them how pissed off it made me feel. My step dad called her and at the end of the conversation said, “I have to talk to you when you get home.”

I posted a passive aggressive status on Facebook, which I know is ridiculous of me because that’s like yelling at a deaf person over the phone. But I’m mad.

The other thing that’s crossed my mind is how many other people did they let leave drunk? How many other friends didn’t have a designated driver? How many more lives did they put at risk?

I’m baffled. I’m upset. I’m pissed off. I’m hurt.

It’s late, I’m feeling nostalgic, and lost, and sleepy, and like I need more antacid/calcium tablets (aka generic Tums) because this acidic sensation just won’t go away.

Mostly what I’m thinking about is all the friends that have come and gone, those that have stuck around, etc. I realized, within these past couple weeks, I was a recluse to some extent. I only wanted to be out or to do things if it involved The Ex. I probably missed some awesome opportunities to do some shit but I can’t change the past, can I? All I can do is move forward…

I’ve never really been good at making friends. I mean, yeah, I’m awesome as an internet buddy, but making friends in the real world? Not my strongest point. So when I was invited to be a plus one to an event five hours from home, overnight, with two people I haven’t met in person (and only one of which I’ve spoken with at all), and one who I’m not SUPERCLOSE with but consider to be a good friend, I practically tripped over my feet and fell out the window trying to grasp the opportunity and hit the “yes” button. Because what fun is life if I go around denying invitations because it’s outside my comfort zone?

I will probably be in a constant state of “what if they don’t like me?” the entire week before the event, and “omg do they like me?” the weekend of the event… but somehow I think this will be worth it.

I’d like to think of myself as a kitten who was just abandoned by her owners because I’m growing up and they don’t want me now that I’m not a cute baby anymore. I just want a good home. A group of friends, or maybe even just a few friends—it doesn’t have to be a whole group!—that I can call my own and be able to do stuff with and feel accepted.

I’m going to challenge myself… To do different things with different people. To have more fun. To just be a more sociable person.