the game.

if he doesn't want to see me, then why even ask to see me? am i just some fun girl to drunk text on saturday night? is he too shy to actually follow through on plans?
 
is he just not that into me??
 
i've asked all of these questions before. with the same man nonetheless. (i had a crush on michael four years ago; we lost touch up until a few months ago. since then he's been texting and emailing regularly, and has even made a couple attempts at plans with me-- none of which he's ever followed through on.)
 
but there's a difference between my 22-year-old self asking these questions and my 26-year-old self asking them. before, i would exhaust myself trying to come up with the answers. now, i don't care what the answers are.
 
i. don't. care.
 
the game has been fun. it really has. all of the questions, the unknowns, the "i-wonder-when-he'll-call"s, the great sex followed by three weeks of no contact. wondering which card you're going to be dealt next, hoping to land the right cards and win the game. i've loved it; i've thrived off the drama of it all.
 
but i'm done with it. i want to use my get-out-of-jail-free card, i want to jump off the board, i want to stop the drama and i want to be REAL.
 
the game stops now.

nightmare vs. reality

the last few nights, it's been like clockwork. i wake up with a gasp, dripping in sweat, hazy with sleep, wondering if the nightmare is real. they've all been so different, yet completely similar in their horrendous nature.

i've witnessed scenes in my nightmares that i don't wish to repeat in reality. but these nightmares have been so real, they've made me re-evaluate the way i live my reality.

and the reality is-- there's always something to complain about. i'm not thin enough; my hair isn't long enough. i don't own a house i'm not sure i'll ever have a successful relationship.

but i also have a college degree and a job that relates directly to my degree and my interests. i have an active social life and i live in a hip neighborhood in the heart of the city. i might not have a child quite yet, but i do have a cute little cat, whom i love with all my heart. (and i graciously accept and embrace all of the "crazy cat lady" references, thank you.)

life is good and i am LIVING it. so for that, i thank my insanely real nightmares for showing me what life very well COULD be like-- and for shutting up those nagging negative voices in my head.

three men and a week.

three men, one week.... two and a half failures.

the gorgeous bahamian artist turned out to be an unemployed 34-year-old with no electricity and a daughter somewhere out in the world. great conversation, delicious eye candy, but as far as stability and commitment? goodbye.

the 23-year-old football player with a killer body and even better kisses turned out to only want me for one thing....which is pretty much the one thing that every other 23-year-old male (and 24, 25, 26 and 27-year-old male) wants out of a woman. beautiful and fun to be around, yes, but i refuse to be yet another notch on someone's widdled down bedpost.

and the goofy grey-haired white guy turned out to be "that guy" at saturday night's party-- planting a few sloppy gross ones on me and then proceeding to get inebriated to the point of vomiting outside the car window on the way home.

(i only give this one a half a failure point, because he is gainfully employed, sans children, he voted for obama, and, let's face it-- i've been there with my head outside the car window a time or two.)

needless to say, i'm not feeling very optimistic these days.

all smiles.

and my happiness is complete.

happiness, part II.

recently, another man in my life engaged me in another uninvited conversation about my 'downfalls' and offered yet more unsolicited life advice on how to fix it all, using words i desperately wish were not part of the english language. unfortunately, this is not the first time the situation has played out in my life. fortunately, it will be the last.

i debated whether or not to share this intensely personal letter written to him (never to be sent, only used as a tool to empty myself of my anger and frustration), but those of you who know me (the four of you who read this blog...) know i'm an open book and know how much it helps me to get my feelings out. so--read away. but be warned-- this is raw, emotional and a little crude. that's just me.

you say you know me. you say you care about me. you called me a slut in the name of friendship and you practically begged me to 'find happiness in my life.' you shot your words off too soon and with no information, other than the little bits i've let you in on these last few months. here's a little light for you.

i carried myself through an abusive relationship that lasted far longer than it should have. in that respect, i know what it's like to be weak. i know what it's like to be so weak that i went back to the man who called me a whore, i went back to the man who pushed me down in the snow in the middle of the street, i went back to the man who called me a bitch, who called me worthless. and i know what it's like to be so weak that i actually believed it all.

i also know what it's like to be strong. i know what kind of inner strength it takes to stop sobbing, pick myself up off the bathroom floor and force myself to believe that something better lay ahead of me. i know what kind of strength it takes to teach myself all over again that i am not a whore, i am not a bitch, and i am not worthless. i know the amount of strength it takes to push those words--words that have been so ingrained in the mind-- out and start with a clean slate.

i also know that it takes not only strength to do all of this, but also faith-- faith in better days, faith in myself, faith in my power to control my destiny, and faith that god really does have a hand in it all, and is walking with me every step of the way. your small words do not change what i know.

i struggle with it every day. i struggle with my happiness every day, but my god, am i grateful for this struggle. am i grateful to know both how cruel and how beautiful this world can be. because of that, i know happiness when i feel it. and i'm not happy every day, and the struggles will always be there-- but that's ME. and i know me.

you do not know me. you will never have the privilege of knowing me. nor do you, or will you ever, have the right to tell me how to live my life. just because i let you in my bed for two months does not mean you're an expert on me. and it most certainly does not make me a slut.

now, you have the right to believe whatever you want to believe about me, and that's fine-- just know that from now on, your small words will be met with an iron shield, thrown right back at you.

i've struggled for two years with why god would allow me to go through what i went through in my last relationship, why i would be allowed to suffer for so long. now i know why. it was so i would never again let another man attack me with his awful words. i've been given the grace to stop this before it gets any worse, and for that i am so very thankful. i am indifferent to whatever it is you've said or will say to me in the future, and that brings me more peace than i've felt in two years.

it's a peace i truly hope you're able to someday feel.

happiness, part I

i miss writing. true-- i write every day. i write newsletter articles and email campaigns, marketing copy and sales pitches. but this is my job, my career-- not my whole life.

and my life is happening, expanding. and i need to write about it again.

(deep dramatic sighs....)

with my writing 'itch' seemingly incurable, i recently did what was previously unthinkable-- i bought myself a mac. a shiny new laptop that is my new best friend/constant companion. (and they say money can't buy you love....) my dad thinks i've been careless and far too extravagant with my money, my mom is thrilled with my 'new investment.' as for me?

i'm just so damn happy i get to write again.

a new day.

a new day, a new year. a new president, new hope, new attitude. a new computer, a brand new me.

stay tuned......