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One of my favorite aunts is about to undergo chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. Because I’m halfway across the world, there’s little I can do but send emails or occasionally catch her on Skype. Since I was a little, my Aunt Rita (the youngest of four on my mother’s side) has been the “wild” independent one. She was an international flight attendant, married and divorced young, had an abortion, and led the life of drinking, smoking and dating.
Now in her 50s and facing cancer, she admitted that she—like me—went through a lot of life confident in her independence and single fun. But at this point in her life, she regretted not finding someone, finding to be with her through this time and holding her hand. I protested that she wasn’t alone (my mom is there with her) and I certainly didn’t need a guy to take care of me.
“Of course you don’t, Jane, but take it from this old girl, stay OPEN to the possibility of love. That’s all I’m asking. You don’t want to end up like me.”
The part of me that is tired of being lonely completely agrees with her, but it seems to fight against the idea that I’m doing great on my own. I’ve been on a rampage of hobbies, traveling and hookups but still feel unfulfilled. No matter how hard or light I throw myself into things, I come up on the other side looking for an unknown something. Maybe that’s life? Maybe the unknown is what keeps pushing me forward to live life fully and completely.
So I did it. I put my feelings out there for him just as a FYI so he would know. I told him and it went exactly how I thought it would. My own intuition scares me sometimes. It’s funny, isn’t it? In the beginning, I figured this would happen. For a fleeting moment, I thought “This will be like Mr. (former) Anti-Committment; he chases after you, you’re half-interested. But in the end, the situation is swapped and you always get hurt.” Oh, how I need to learn.
He was supposed to be different. And he is. But when it comes down to it all, I guess all guys are the same; this one just executed it differently. Surprisingly, I’m not angry at him. I have no regrets, strangely enough. More than anything, it set a hard reminder to myself that I’m better off on my own. I should have listened to my friend when he said, “If there was no talk about the future, there is none. Leave it.” I apparently need to start listening to him more.
The last time I felt like this was during the Mr. Co-worker situation in the beginning of the year. That one, I was stupid. This one, I wasn’t. Pen IS different. I’m not making excuses for him but I should have known his “casual” isn’t very casual. He’s never done this before. I should have known better. He didn’t run away from the conversation, however, and we remain good friends. But it still hurts a hell of a lot. It’s so strange. He did everything he was supposed to with respecting me. He did what I hope every guy will treat me like: buys dinner, holds me, makes sure I’m okay, talks to me. I told him in the future, if he ever does the casual thing again, he should probably stay away from cuddling, no matter how innocent it is. Maybe the other way is really easier. It’s harsher and a quick band-aid rip. Pen’s way drew me in and then I forgot reality sometimes. Hilarious that I was worried about hurting him in the beginning.
I’m not sorry for my feelings. I’m not sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak up sooner; I’m sorry I was stupid enough to think he actually cared for me beyond all this. And yes, we’re friends, so he does care for me, but not in the way I thought he did. Is it always going to be like this? I don’t believe in The One, but I don’t believe that this is my life or my future. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to NY. I was fine before it; could have left it or taken it. But I can’t even say that I regret NY. I took a chance.
A lot of our convo seemed to be him commenting on how brave I was b/c when taking such giant risks like this, you have the courage to handle it when it goes wrong. Am I brave? I don’t feel it. I feel weak for having landed here, half in love with this guy that I thought would change everything. But maybe that’s just it. I do better when I’m on my own. I accomplish more on my own. I find my own happiness. That’s been my motto for a long time and I need to remember that. I’m going to climb Kili alone and I’m going to keep pushing forward, focusing on me. No more distractions, no more guys, no more swooning. Just Jane.
So I did it. I put my feelings out there for him just as a FYI so he would know. I told him and it went exactly how I thought it would. My own intuition scares me sometimes. It’s funny, isn’t it? For a fleeting moment, I thought “This will be like Mr. (former) Anti-Committment; he chases after you, you’re half-interested. But in the end, the situation is swapped and you always get hurt.” Oh, how I need to learn.
He was supposed to be different. And he is. But when it comes down to it all, I guess all guys are the same; this one just executed it differently. Surprisingly, I’m not angry at him. I have no regrets, strangely enough. More than anything, it set a hard reminder to myself that I’m better off on my own. I should have listened to my friend when he said, “If there was no talk about the future, there is none. Leave it.” I apparently need to start listening to him more.
The last time I felt like this was during the Mr. Co-worker situation in the beginning of the year. That one, I was stupid. This one, I wasn’t. Pen IS different. I’m not making excuses for him but I should have known his “casual” isn’t very casual. He’s never done this before. I should have known better. He didn’t run away from the conversation, however, and we remain good friends. But it still hurts a hell of a lot. It’s so strange. He did everything he was supposed to with respecting me. He did what I hope every guy will treat me like: buys dinner, holds me, makes sure I’m okay, talks to me. I told him in the future, if he ever does the casual thing again, he should probably stay away from cuddling, no matter how innocent it is. Maybe the other way is really easier. It’s harsher and a quick band-aid rip. Pen’s way drew me in and then I forgot reality sometimes. Hilarious that I was worried about hurting him in the beginning.
I’m not sorry for my feelings. I’m not sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak up sooner; I’m sorry I was stupid enough to think he actually cared for me beyond all this. And yes, we’re friends, so he does care for me, but not in the way I thought he did. Is it always going to be like this? I don’t believe in The One, but I don’t believe that this is my life or my future. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to NY. I was fine before it; could have left it or taken it. But I can’t even say that I regret NY. I took a chance.
I don’t hate him; we remain very close friends. In fact, it was probably the most mature adult conversation I’ve had about this kind of stuff. I can’t even breath the usual words “jerk” or “asshole” or “spineless” in the same sentence because he’s not.
A lot of our convo seemed to be him commenting on how brave I was because when taking such giant risks like this, you have the courage to handle it if it goes wrong. Am I brave? I don’t feel it. I feel weak for having landed here, half in love with this guy that I thought would change everything. But maybe that’s just it. I do better when I’m on my own. I accomplish more on my own. I find my own happiness. That’s been my motto for a long time and I need to remember that. I’m going to climb Kili alone and I’m going to keep pushing forward, focusing on me. No more distractions, no more guys, no more swooning.
Just Jane.
I hit my year anniversary in Austin last week. A year ago, I got into a ridiculously bad car accident on my first weekend here, which also happened to be my ex-bf’s birthday. This year, it was lingering in the back of my mind, but faded quickly as I laughed and screamed through the Coney Island Cyclone roller coaster. Last year, I was stressed and lonely and hysterical. This year, I spent a glorious beautiful weather weekend in NYC with old friends and the crush that seems to never fully go away.
Although I got late Friday night, I didn’t see him until Saturday evening due to busy schedules, the US Open and a checklist of people I needed to see. Up to that point, he had slipped from my mind as I busied myself preparing for Africa and he for a trip to Costa Rica. But when I walked off the subway and saw him grinning at me across the street, all doubts flew out of my head. Is it possible he got better looking since I last saw him?
He gave me options for our plans that night, one of them involving a long walk up a hill through the Cloisters. He being in the camp that I needed to train more for Kilimanjaro strongly hinted at that one so I sighed and agreed. The sun was setting over the Hudson, the weather was cool and there was green all around. It’s as someone directed the perfect scenery for a romantic walk.
We had dinner at a small Italian place by his apartment. Conversation was smooth and fast flowing, filled with laughter and teasing. He lamented over the true meaning of “adoration” and how sad he was it’s gotten lost through time due to the “cuteness” of the word “adore” and “adorable.” To truly have adoration for something is to love and respect and be passionate about it. His adoration is for tennis and Africa, where he did Peace Corp for years. Deep down, I hoped he would have adoration for me some day.
He’s not an emotional man; he’s passionate about a few things, but generally, a stoic person. On the rare chance he makes a comment about us or me, he’s sincere to the point I desperately wish for more moments. My friends find him overwhelming great, probably because he’s so opposite of my usual. As we’re riding the subway, Smallbone giggles and whispers, “He’s so dreamy, Jane! I’m in love with him for you.”
But all these happy good feelings are just that. I leave for Africa next week and I wonder if he’ll fade from my memories or if he’ll move on. There was no talk about the future. Maybe that’s what happens when you live in the moment. The DTR (Define the Relationship) was looming in my head, but I pushed it away. What’s the point? He’s there, I’m here and there’s nothing to debate. But when I fall asleep in his arms and he comments that we fit together very well, I find myself wondering about the future.
Reality bites.
He’s finally engaged.
I have a variety of emotions thrown at me when I find out. Part of the chaos is from just getting off the phone with Pen (see previous entry; more on this later). Part of me is stunned. I knew it would happen sometime and soon, but it still stung a tiny bit. We had plans to get dinner and catch up when I was in St. Louis, but he chickened out via text message (although it was his idea). I called him on it and we never spoke again.
He is, for me, what I am to Pen. That #2 in your life that liberates you of what you thought was the norm and showing the way things could be. He was the one that showed me all the physical stuff didn’t have to be used as a tool for manipulation or lies or control. It could be fun and something I could own for myself.
The tiny tick that hurts is that I was never good enough for him to commit, but like Mel told me, “Sometimes I think we’re all girl scouts and instead of ‘leaving our campsites cleaner than when we found them,’ we leave our men better than when we found them. We help them understand women better and, in some cases, understand themselves. And what thanks do we get? They find great relationships after they’re done with us.”
The truth is, as much as he hurt me, he also contributed to making me who I am now. Despite the last year being rough, I AM pretty proud of how far I’ve come. And as one man walks permanently out of my life, another steps in.
As hard as I’ve tried to follow the 2-day rule, I’ve found that my mind still wanders to another man, Pen (see previous entry). He actually calls. So I may have told him straight up he better keep in touch, even if it as only friends or I wouldn’t let him kiss me. It’s a first and I’m unsure how to handle a guy who treats me the way he does. But it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? This is the way it’s supposed to be. I shouldn’t be so in awe of these actions. But the more I thought about it, the more I was sure I wasn’t being swept up by all the niceness. There’s been plenty of nice guys that I wasn’t attracted to and I promised to never settle even when I was lonely.
So what does this mean? I have an opportunity to go visit NYC for Labor Day due to a possible free mileage ticket. I have possibly one day off I can squeeze out of work. I have 50+ friends I need to see there, but I think I would be very happy staying in with him all weekend. That terrifies me. This entire situation freaks me out. I lose my cool when I’m around him, chatting nervously like a little bird to fill up the silences that I’m not used to yet. When he says nothing and just looks at me, I get butterflies and have to blink away because his gaze is so penetrating.
He frustrates me often with his stupid simple man logic (“Wait, why are you complaining about the lack of women boots? You just said there were so many options when you walked in!”) and he likes the wrong sports teams. He goes to bed at midnight and gets up at 7am daily while I find my best energy late at night. Yet, I still want to keep him around to see where it’s going.
Going to NY signifies so much more than just a fun jaunt to the city. After New Orleans, St. Louis and Austin, it’s another home although I never lived there. Going there when I could be going somewhere new (and with Africa soon after) is a giant step. On paper, it’s a horrible idea. Why get attached? Whey get more involved when this is clearly going nowhere with the distance? Like Kilimanjaro, there’s 1000 reasons not to do it and only a handful of good ones. But oh, are those handful really good ones! I promised I would stay open to the possibilities, but not pursue actively. Getting on that plane is breaking all the rules.
Logic or heart? Which?!
Summer: Ok. I, like being on my own. I think relationships are messy and people’s feelings get hurt. Who needs it? We’re young, we live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world; might as well have fun while we can and, save the serious stuff for later.
McKenzie: You’re a dude. [to Tom] She’s a dude!
Tom: Ok but wait–wait. What happens, if you fall in love?
Tom: What?
Summer: You don’t believe that, do you?
Tom: It’s love, it’s not Santa Claus.
The definition of strange:
Waking up with someone in the same bed and not because he happened to pass out next to you. It’s unfamiliar to fall asleep in someone’s arms and wake up back in them, even if there was moving around and separation in the night. It’s even more startling to be held for the sole sake of him wanting to be close to you and not because he’s thinking about how to get into your pants. And he’s not afraid to admit how much he enjoys it. He brings a present with him because his mother –like mine–taught him to never visit someone empty handed. It’s a book that I had been wanting for awhile; he remembers, orders it and wraps it in yellow tissue paper.
This is apparently how it’s supposed to be. The whole weekend completely threw me for a loop. It’s terrifying to have someone look at me the way he does. He seems me as a sensual and sexy when all I see is a clumsy awkward tomboy. In the places I see fat and wide hips, he sees beautiful curves and everything that makes a woman a woman. Where I see lopsided different sized breasts, he sees perfection.
While I’ve been on a carpe diem journey with guys in the last few years, he’s been reserved and conservative about his affection. He stood where I stood 3 years ago and it makes me dizzy to be standing in the place where most of the guys in my history were in my life. I teach and he learns and I watch as he lets go years of conflicts.
The time was filled with ups and down and lefts and rights, all shuffling around like a chaotic organized mess. In the quiet moments, I finally felt what a real relationship is like, something I haven’t experienced in seven years.
But the real world slips in on this early morning and we smile at each other under sleepy eyes as I drop him off at the airport. He returns to his NY world and I to mine. To my surprise, I don’t ask him what’s going to happen or the future or what this all was. I don’t even panic or worry. Apparently I’m growing, too. Instead, I leave the weekend just as it was: a great wonderful memory and time spent with a rare kind of guy. If he wants more, he’ll have to keep up his end and come after me.
Summer: “One day I woke up and I just knew.”
Tom: “Knew what?”
Summer: “What I was never sure of with you.”
The definition of strange:
Waking up with someone in the same bed and not because he happened to pass out next to you. It’s unfamiliar to fall asleep in someone’s arms and wake up back in them, even if there was moving around and separation in the night. It’s even more startling to be held for the sole sake of him wanting to be close to you and not because he’s thinking about how to get into your pants. And he’s not afraid to admit how much he enjoys it. He brings a present with him because his mother, like mine, taught him to never visit someone empty handed. It’s a book that I had been wanting for awhile; he remembers, orders it and wraps it in yellow tissue paper.
This is apparently how it’s supposed to be. The whole weekend completely threw me for a loop. It’s terrifying to have someone look at me the way he does. He seems me as sensual and sexy when all I see is a clumsy awkward tomboy. In the places I see fat and wide hips, he sees beautiful curves and everything that makes a woman a woman. Where I see lopsided different sized breasts, he sees perfection.
While I’ve been on a carpe diem journey with guys in the last few years, he’s been reserved and conservative about his affection. He stood where I stood 3 years ago and it makes me dizzy to be standing in the place where most of the guys in my history were in my life. I teach and he learns and I watch as he lets go years of conflicts.
The time was filled with ups and down and lefts and rights, all shuffling around like a chaotic organized mess. In the quiet moments, I finally felt what a real relationship is like, something I haven’t experienced in seven years.
But the real world slips in on this early morning and we smile at each other under sleepy eyes as I drop him off at the airport. He returns to his NY world and I to mine. To my surprise, I don’t ask him what’s going to happen or the future or what this all was. I don’t even panic or worry. Apparently I’m growing, too. Instead, I leave the weekend just as it was: a great wonderful memory and time spent with a rare kind of guy. If he wants more, he’ll have to keep up his end and come after me.
Summer: “One day I woke up and I just knew.”
Tom: “Knew what?”
Summer: “What I was never sure of with you.”
I was chatting with an acquaintance recently about my consistent bad luck with men. As a “trained love expert” (he was trained by some famous teacher, Dr. Paul), he is confident about his abilities to diagnose people. I remain skeptical, of course.
N: You’re a romantic.
J: What? I thought I was a cynical realist.
N: Which means you’re a closeted idealist with scars on the surface (yes, he really said this).
J: Huh.
N: You told me before “chemistry” is confusing to you. It’s there and so you think you should grab onto it only to find it means nothing.
J: Mhmm
N: You see attraction as love.
J: Well, I wouldn’t say THAT. I haven’t been in love or loved in years and years. More like I see attraction as potential and possibility.
N: Right, so your problem is screening people.
And then he was adamant I read a book by Dr. Paul that would change my life because it changed his. Like some mysterious guide, he left the conversation with this, “Contact me again when you’ve read the book.”
Huh. I’ve definitely posted enough times on this blog about my confusion with chemistry and attraction. Is it an indicator of anything? In my experiences, it ends up getting me hurt because I thrive so much on it in the beginning. So yeah, maybe I am a closeted idealist (shhh), but where does that leave me?
I have a good friend named Jenny that I met at summer camp in 7th grade; we discovered we had the same birthday, both born out of this country, at the same hospital 9 minutes apart. Our little sisters even share the same name. While I grew up determined to be fiercely independent, lover of camping and backpacking and a tomboy, she moved to California and became the opposite.
She called me at the crack of dawn this morning and dropped the bomb that her boyfriend of 5-years just dumped her because he saw no future. “Why?! Why does it have to happen to me? [Well, Jenny, it really does happen to a lot of people. I want to be married with kids and I thought he was it.”
If someone that believes so much in love can’t get it right, what chances do I have when I’m not even looking? Should I read this book? He’s adamant that it will change everything for me.
What is it about jerks that makes them hard to get over? Or stop thinking about? Is it is because we are SO confused by how one person can be such an asshole that we hold onto some naive hope they’ll prove otherwise? Is the rule that the jerkier they are, the harder it is to move on? Common sense and logic says it should be easier, a clean cut, a head held high movement that tells your feet to walk out. But it never seems to work that way.
The jerks seem to be the hardest heartbreak (for me, anyway). Maybe most of it is anger at myself for ignoring the signs or for making such poor judgement or stupidly thinking he was a good guy. It’s some innate desire to not be wrong when he proves to be THAT guy, even when you’ve sworn you were no longer going to ever date THAT type of guy again.
So I beat a dead horse again and again. Revive it, just to beat it down some more. Each time I think I can’t be hurt even more than I have in the past, I somehow manage to stumble another man that manages do just that. Of course there are good guys out there, but apparently I seem to keep on attracting the bad ones.
I’m not asking for much. I’m not even looking for a boyfriend. Just nice guys that I have a connection that I can get to know better, platonic of otherwise. I’m a low-maitnenced girl. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I need to start asking for more, demanding more respect.
Does it ever get easier?
Despite having one of those unforgivable life-changing years, I ended up spending the last day with no plans. In the last 3 hours of 2008, I was alone in my apartment, but on the phone with one best friend, who lives states away from her Marine-husband and online with another best friend, who’s boyfriend is staying with her family as she goes slowly insane. All 3 of us in vastly different stages of life, but all unhappy on NYE. It was a startling reminder that maybe the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.
So 2008 ended with a quiet whimper. No crazy party, no giant blow-out celebration for an incredibly amazing year. I was disappointed and sad not to be home in New Orleans with the annual traditions of the 31st, but at 12:01, as predicted, my loving friends called from the same balcony they have every year to whoever isn’t there.
It’s almost embarrassing to admit I was alone, but it’s just another day in theory. The clock continues to tick and life goes on. It may not have ended the way I wanted it to, but it certainly doesn’t stop my momentum for having an even better 2009!
I used to make resolutions, break them, feel bad and laugh it off. But last year, I actually accomplished all mine from making new friends to moving out of St. Louis to backpacking in Europe to starting over in a new city. I even followed through with the promise to not get caught up with guys that would be an obstacle to those dreams. Even though I’m a very different person emotionally and mentally than I was a year ago today, I think I’m still haunted by the looming feeling of loneliness that used to seep into my life in St. Louis. So in 2009, I’ll swallow my fear of social situations and dating and new things and keep pushing forward! Always seek adventure.
Other realistic resolutions (instead of making vague general ones, I’m going to make specific ones so it’ll actually happen):
LEARN JAZZ PIANO: a life dream of mine, so I start lessons next week! After playing classical piano for 12 years until I went to college, I miss the ivories and will attempt to make a return.
LOSE 20 POUNDS BY JUNE: I’ll continue to take 5-6 flights of stairs up and down everyday. One day, I’ll manage to go from floor 5-17. Someday. Walk to places to eat at work when we go out and take a 20 minute walk even when I have lunch at work.
TRAVEL MORE: I’m addicted. Wanderlust (or maybe I’m a wanderslut…). Will find time and money somehow to continue this dream! Maybe South America in early April?
STOP HOOKING UP WITH DRUNK GUYS: Due to my lack of drinking, it happens often that I end up in bed with drunk guys. And yes, technically I’m the one in control here (“you SO took advantage of him being wasted,” laughed a friend), but the emotional afterwards is too confusing and achy. I have a feeling this one will be the toughest one to keep. Amazing how different things were a year ago…
With that said, good luck to everyone and their resolutions! What are some of yours?
It’s been a rough few weeks. Despite telling myself I’ve been through much much worse, I can’t seem to ease this heartache. Seeing him 5 days a week doesn’t help the situation whatsoever. Apparently heartache is a bitch, no matter how many times you’ve been through it. I’m also spending my first NYE away from New Orleans, which isn’t going to help the “healing time.”
I’ve gotten a lot of platitudes lately, “It’ll be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end!” or “He’s a jerk, anyways. What guy hurts 2 girls so easily?” or “You work together; it would have been a disaster.” I know. I know all of this, but it doesn’t seem to lighten the ache that is in my chest. The entire situation keeps nagging me because in a way, I believed so strongly in our chemistry and how much we had in common that it seems so WRONG that it just dies. How is it possible we go from having great conversations and and hooking up to … nothing and acting like strangers?
I guess it can be argued in the last year, I’ve had numerous run-ins with chemistry (physical and otherwise) and I’m more than sure I’ll have many more in the future. The question is, when do you stay and fight for it and when do you walk away?
