Wasting my time. . .

"A n y t h i n g less than mad,
passionate,
extraordinary love,
is a waste of time."

To step down memory lane... eight years ago today, was the first day I spent walking on cloud nine due to an actual, real, relationship. I can still picture part of it today, sitting in my 2nd period biology class... people staring at me, and wondering what the hell had happened to the usual cranky, non-morning person that I am.

"What the F$@k is wrong with you?!" My friend Sarah whispered loudly to me from two rows over.
An almost-silent "nothing," oozed out of my lips, barely taking the time to break the huge grin that had been on permanently pasted on them for the last 12 hours.

I was a sophomore in high school and had just been asked out the night before by a guy I had had a huge crush on all summer. He was tall, athletic, and hilarious... and had an Ashton Kutcher resemblance that I still can't help but be attracted to.

"It's that GUY, ISN'T it?" Sarah barked, her long black silky hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned towards me trying to pry the information out. I remember only being able to turn and look at her, showing her my glazed over, starry eyes, as my smile just grew even bigger.
"It is," she said to herself, exasperated, slumping back into her hard desk-chair. She was a no-nonsense, straight talker... even back then. Things like "love" were inconsequential to her.

Eric and I began today, eight years ago, the typical head-over-heels high school romance, that people still tell me today they were jealous of. The most adorable fact of all, perhaps, was that it took us five months to even kiss. We just loved being in eachothers company so much, that it barely even mattered. We had even spent our first New Years Eve just staring into eachothers eyes moments before the ball dropped... thinking that this would be it, but eventually letting our nerves get the best of us.

When I look back to those days, I realize that I've spend the last couple years just "wasting my time." The two relationships I've been in since both began with doubts of how I really felt, and questioning my friends if they thought he was good looking. There was no floating or bursting, or butterflies. While one had passion, the other was just mad, and neither were "extraordinary" by any means. I wonder now why I even let myself get so wrapped up in them at all. Three months to figure out that it's a waste of time is (somewhat) understandable... but two years? That's just weakness on my part. Here's to hoping that this year of singledom teaches me to raise my standards and put my foot down.

WHAT THE F$@K?!

So, just a moment to comment on the "What the F$@k?!"

When I was thinking about what to name this blog, I had just met a new guy in D.C. at a Pizza Place after a night of heavy binge drinking with a friend. Needless to say, when I was back in my own city the next day, I could not seem to remember his name or what he looked like. Since I couldn't place all the fuzzy details of our encounter, and had actually been hanging out with a different guy when I met him... I barely expected a call. So when he did dial my number I was completely caught off guard and replied with a shrieky "Ohhhh, yooOO000uuuuu!" Then proceeded to mumble some things (as I tend to do) that were most likely incoherent and then nicely spew on and on about how I didn't think he would call since I had been so drunk and could barely remember the evening. NICE! Realllly Nice...

But then what happened next was what really got me. After we hung up I began to OBSESS about whether or not he WOULD call again or meet me for drinks next time I was in D.C. after that shrieky, mumbling nonsense on the phone. Endless streaming thoughts on how I could have said this or probably shouldn't have said that... made me stop and go: "Wait... WTF?" I didn't even know this guy really, and STILL couldn't remember what he looked like or what his name was (He said it on the phone, but I didn't hear and thought asking would be in bad taste) and yet I was already obsessing over how he felt about me... all when I'm actively avoiding finding a "boyfriend" anyways! I realized that I needed to take a step back, not give a shit, and that we girls, are crazy.

Wasn't it this obsessing over what people thought of me, that got me into this mess in the first place? After a steady stream of boyfriends for the last 8 years (and I'm talking only 3 weeks in between relationships AT THE MOST) had caused a complete loss of sense of self, here I was trying to make sure I was somebody that someone I didn't even know would want! Why is it that I'll so readily lose myself for others? I have always been so hung up on trying to please my boyfriends, and make sure I was everything that they wanted... that I never even realized that I'm pretty cool just doing and being everything that I've always wanted.

I thought it was a good time to recap on the "WTF" for myself and you, because I found myself thinking a little too much about a guy I met this weekend whom I'm meeting up with tonight. He did nothing more than tell me I was beautiful and carry the six packs I had just bought out to my car... barely enough to warrant more than a passing thought. We didn't even exchange numbers, just a promise that I would return again on a Wednesday night, since that is when he works. Now I'm all "should I go THIS Wednesday or next Wednesday," and "will he be dissapointed if I don't come in tonight?" How about "does he even remember me?" Or "is he thinking about me?" and then I realize I need to step back, and say What the F$@k! I'm going to do... what I want to do.

Which just happens to be the theme of being twenty-something anyways, doesn't it? "What the hell do I want to do. . ." or What the F$@k am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? I've come to realize now, that the only way I'm ever going to even begin to figure that out is to step back and just be ME, without you (or you, or him, or that guy) for at least a year. A YEAR!

Spill it.

I would like to officially announce that I have successfully made it through the summer as a single girl and to be honest – I was sort of afraid it might not work. I have always been “that” girl, I think… that girl who is always in a relationship or has a guy on the side. And after the dissolution of my two year relationship last April I vowed to myself to stay single for an entire year. However, when I made this vow, there was already a lurking “if I even make it through the summer” thought in the back of my head.

That lurking thought was mostly due to the discovery of the inevitable post-break-up “Mr. Perfect” a mere four days after the death (or official death – as it had already been dead for months) of my most recent relationship. This man was a 6’7”, green-eyed, six-packed, comedic athlete, who - - only two years after graduating college with honors had a job that already allowed him to buy a house, a fancy car, and a flat screen TV that wouldn’t even fit into my living room (and my TV is already pretty big). I got giddy just thinking about him, and the butterflies constantly flapping their wings in my stomach kept me almost permanently ten feet off the ground. I loved having a hunk by my side - a gorgeous man calling me back, making me laugh, and wrapping his arms around me on the couch.

However, when he stopped calling in late June, I was almost thankful – because I knew that I had it bad and there was no way I’d ever turn him away just because of a silly ‘Stay Single for a Year’ vow. I was desperately confused in the first few weeks after he stopped calling, but realize now that “desperate” had probably been eeking off my body all along. I suppose I’ve never really learned, as I never really had to, how to fully turn off “relationship mode.” This makes me exorbitantly thankful that he stopped calling now – because once he left I found that mode finally disintegrating within my body. I found in its place an exploding happiness that puts the stupidest grin you’ve ever seen on my face (more so than the “Mr. Perfect" butterflies). Something I once thought was reserved for teenage love stories was brimming over from a confidence that now relies solely on me to feed it, and oddly enough, is stronger than it’s ever been as a result. Not to mention “Mr. Perfect” was obviously looking for a ho not a housewife, and I’m just not that girl. . .

I tried to tell my friends once that I was “staying off guys” for a year, but let’s be honest, not only is that a bit drastic, but the single life and dating is just way too fun. So here is where I wish to divulge my dating tales in hopes of somehow preventing a day to day or text to text divulgence to my friends – an act that would surely affix that “boy crazy” cast type to my persona – a label I fear that I might already have. I can talk politics, religion, current events, and pop culture with the best of them (ok, lied about the politics part) but many times I find guys appearing simply way too much as my general topic of conversation. So at least here, I won’t have to guess if that raised eye brow might or might not have been the slightest suggestion of whether or not you want to hear about how I met a guy in the Supermarket today, and he was soooooooo cute. Yada yada yada. In any event, it spills here.