Ooh, and another thing!

The whole point of my earlier blog got lost in my ramblings. As I was talking to Emali about the whole ugly episode, she said something that struck serious gold, and I'd like to share it with you now.

So many times in the past, I hear people blather on and on, and on again about "I'm going to do things for myself" and "really work on me". Well what the hell does that mean, anyway?

Seriously. Take time off from what? Who on earth means that much to someone that they need to "take time off" from dating afterward in order to get themselves "right" again?

Okay, I've been humbled. I had said those things before, those things that people say when they feel the need to work on themselves. I was lying every time. But do you know what I realized just about 10 days ago?

I'm taking time away from having a relationship. I fell too fast. What's missing, that that happened so quickly, and hurt me so much?

I'm taking time off. And I'm rediscovering what I love about myself; dusting off the things that make me happy. I didn't say I'm taking time off from dating, though. I think an integral part of discovering myself is meeting new people, and seeing what new friends have to offer.

But I'm not expecting anything, and not planning for anything, except where I am going and what I want from life. "Life" is such a big word. What do I want for tonight? Or tomorrow?

There's real beauty in that, and I guess I feel a little freedom - for as long as it lasts because after all, I'm human, and I'm fallible.

Humor & The Sad Thing

I finally did it! I looked back on Bob's odd behavior, and tried to diagnose it with Emali, and I actually laughed at it! I laughed out loud, a lot. It really was the oddest "dump" I've ever had ( I know that sounds gross, but you know what I mean. POO)

But looking back at it, whatever happened wasn't my fault, and while there's a major tender spot there, some of it was downright funny. Such as?

He helped me move my super heavy, solid oak furniture in the pitch darkness. He put up my refugee dog and myself. He said, often "We have all the time in the world". (That one still hurts - I believed him.) He bent over backwards. He had a couple interesting slips of the tongue. I thought all of it was adorable, and took very little of it seriously.

But why do all these things to then dump me by silent treatment?! Oh well. I got a coffee mug out of it.

It's a pimpy coffee mug, too. And if he wants it back, he knows where to get it - with the cost of an explanation, while I sit, bemused like the Godfather. I may even stuff some cotton balls in my cheeks for effect - don't put it past me, my friends.

Even though it's now laughable, and I've gotten to the "big picture" of it all, I flipped through my e mail today, and there was a photo of him, wearing a tie I love. It hurt. And the sad thing is, my door really is open still. I'm not sure what the ratio of curiosity is to the fact that I care a lot about him - but I'm willing to rip off the band-aid in order to let him in again.

Meh. It is what it is.

Connections

I've been feeling very homesick these past few days. And I swear, this is the last time I'll mention it - it's because I got dumped.

Ok, to clarify: it wasn't a "boyfriend/girlfriend" relationship, but it was headed that way in my opinion. So I guess it's the abrupt end to the beautiful possibilities that has my head spun around so hard. Regardless, suddenly being lonely has friends & family coming out of the woodwork to comfort and entertain me. Problem is, they're mostly back home in Indiana.

This morning I was so homesick, tears kept threatening. But I swear I'm tired of crying. I need to connect with this city, and make it an anchor. I can't keep idealizing "home" as this 22-hour away place. I mean to say, it will always be home, but God I'm so wistful about it when I'm stressed.

I have resolved to connect more with Austin, and the people in it. The Long Center has some sort of writers' workshop; I have a membership to a kick-ass gym; I work downtown. What the hell am I crying about? (Don't worry, I won't re-cap for you).

I need to buck up, go out and meet people. While a large part of me wants to say that, and charge back to my apartment, I am going to meet a new friend at Town Lake for some dog walking and coffee. It's a brave new day for our little soldier. ;) Who even cares about tomorrow?

Not So, Monotony.

I planned for a monotonous, chill day today. I planned to sleep in, lie around in my jammies, drink coffee, then drink Jack (maybe), make some candles to fill a few orders, and maybe finally organize my new pad.

I drugged myself to sleep at 8 p.m. last night - though the body needed rest, the mind wasn't willing. Sigh. An old friend called his mind "the hampster on the wheel" and mine has been more and more like that lately. Hence, NyQuil. And the mixed berry flavor was delightful as well :)

I woke up, feeling as though I had slept the day away at 9:30 a.m. Nine-fucking-thirty. I used to sail right through that hour, and sleep until noon, but not the case now - and to be honest, I dig it. I like the morning, and its simplicitous beauty.

Moving forward, I coffeed, I candled, I chilled. I felt like I accomplished nothing. I was bored. I watched some t.v. Made some more candles. Made lunch, such as it was, and still felt the burning need to get up and do something. My thought was, how did I do this all day? The act of nothing.

The truth is: I worked on my small business website; I filled a couple of orders from paying customers, who may tell their friends about me. I did some laundry, which goes a long way in seeing the floor of my apartment. I started some grad school applications, and considered my alma mater as well. I experiemented with scent and color, all in a shapely glass palette with my name on it. I thought of a business venture between my sister and myself, and mentally laid out some plans. In my jammies. On the couch. But whatever :)

I've realized that monotony like this is, in the end, very profitable - if not monetarily, then spiritually and mentally. It was a quiet day, but I did a lot. The fact that this is what I call boredom or monotony is a fact worth looking into and exploring. In short, retrospect has made me very accomplished today, even if I was accomplished in my jammies.

The thing about me is I'm resilient. A dear family friend says that I'm the most resilient person she's ever known. And I didn't believe her until . . . right about now. And there's even some self-doubt still, but I'm starting to believe that.

I don't know why I let this guy hurt me so much, and there will come a point when I'll stop to think about it; to learn from it. And the next experience will be better. God I hope the next experience will be better.

See, the problem is that I know what I want. And for a short time, he gave it to me, no strings attached. Should I have been leery? I don't know. I don't want to be one of those people who never lets anything in for fear of being hurt. I've been that person, and I don't want to go back.

My ex (who is still a wonderful friend) told me just to let the pain in, and work itself back out again. The thing about heart pain like that, is that even though it hurts while it's happening, it leaves smears of wisdom and care that you take with you to the next experience.

What have I learned so far? I will never just leave a person hanging, wondering what happened. I'll have the decency to tell them it's not working. And I'll do my best to be up front. In short, I won't be the asshole Bob turned out to be. It's just baffling how well he hid it.

Oh well, I have a date tonight. ;) And while I have exactly ZERO expectations, it'll be nice just to have a drink, a drink at face value.

In the interest of my sanity

I went out for drinks last night. After I left work (90 minutes after quitting time), I decided to take Foster for a walk down Congress Avenue, to enjoy the night, and of course do some people watching. Watching all the life flicker around myself and my beloved pup, I realized people weave in and out. And just when I needed it the most, the warm presence of an old friend wove its way back in.

I thought to myself, what am I going to do to occupy my time after this? And like a lame ass, I tossed all my grand plans aside and snuggled with Foster. The top of his sleek, furry head has been a little too damp with my tears lately, and though I wanted to give him a break, I wanted the comfort.

Like I said, this is an unusual situation for me. Foster is not used to watching his mommy cry, and I'm sure as hell not used to this. Yuck! Normally, I'm a dating prizefighter with one of those big, gaudy "gold" belts. I'm the fucking dating champion! Never been knocked out. Until now.

Regardless, I found myself doing the WORST thing I could do, and I'll now divulge today's crazy: I re-read his texts. At first, looking for signs of trouble, then basking in the bittersweet glow of how it was.

LOL, I know! I know! LAME. I want to shake myself! I can laugh at it today, and I was fully aware of my complete lameness as it was happening. The only thing I can say is that most of us have been there before, and I have finally been dragged into joining the melodramatic ranks. Sigh.

Anyway, just as the tears were knocking on the door, I got a text from a good friend who I haven't seen in a while. We ended up meeting for drinks, and he's been recently dumped (though in a more genteel way: she actually SAID something to him. How nice!) so we had some common ground. There's something in the way we laughed and talked easily that made me feel much better. No pretense (he knew I was a mess); no attempt on his part to be Rico Suave. It's so nice to hang out with a sexy male friend without fear.

And guess what? After we had drinks, he made me coffee too.

Crazy is on a break.

Shayla, ma'am, I'm writing on this blog first because I know you're going through withdrawals. :)

That said, I'm on a fucking break. I give! I'm throwing my hands into the air, and shaking angry fists at ye gods above! "I defy you, stars!" Somewhat dramatic? Of course. What else would you expect? But all Montague quoting aside, I've come to a painful conclusion.

I'm done dating for a while. Yes, I always have the best stories, and yes they are all (sadly) true. And yes, generally I am the one to dance away, whistling, better off for the experiences, tucking them away for a time when I could use the wisdom and truths again. But times are changing. I'm growing up, learning, coming to learn the pleasure of sharing myself with someone special - someone who takes my breath away. Had I ever had that before? I have come close a couple of times in the past.

This time? Ugh, this time was different.

Jess fell. That shit hurts, and I'm bruised and sore now, sitting on the ground, taking stock of my sore body, rubbing at the bruises and wondering how on earth I got here. I have always kept a pretty tough dating exterior, ensuring that the select few I let in were let go before they could slice and scratch at my heart. Little known fact about the Jess: her heart has had enough pain and trauma in her young life to choke a horse. And though usually entertaining for other people, she runs for sheer protection. I try to keep the Jess's heart wrapped up in a protective cocoon, to save her from situations like this. (I'm sure you see the meta aspect of all this?)

Details! You clamor for details! Ok, fine. It's simple, I guess.

I met a boy. I opened up to said boy; we'll call the boy Bob. Bob's a fine name. I met Bob. I pushed down my personal walls, and opened my whole self to Bob. I fell HARD for Bob. Bob (I thought) fell hard for me. He said so anyway. Bob opened doors; Bob opened his home during one of the toughest two-week spans in recent history, and Bob made me coffee in the morning. He gave me his garage door opener. Bob had book cases full of well-thumbed volumes. You see where I'm going with this?

In an absolutely stunning span of time, I fell like a tree in a hurricane. I'm not ashamed to admit it now; it doesn't ever hurt anything to admit you're human; fallible, and to the point of love-able. Kids, I was right there, standing on the edge of a precipice, peering over the side and thinking (for once) "You know what? I can do this. And I can love it!" I closed my eyes, stepped off, and dove. Fuck it. Just jump Jess.

And just like that, he was gone. No calls, no texts, no nada. So here I am, on the ground, wiping away dirt-smudged tears, taking stock of myself and my bruised heart and mind. And make no mistake, this is a different hurt than I've probably ever felt, though I haven't given myself permission to really delve deeply into my psyche to find out. But it feels different. I'm mourning something that, in its short tenure, was a dream. I had, for a short time, grasped the mirage of my dreams.

And like all mirages, I'm left feeling emptier, clutching at nothing but air and a broken heart.