Like Felicity said ‘Relationships are hard.’

I was sitting on my bed and holding a fuzzy pillow and staring at my phone. 

I was drinking water, trying to find my voice again. Sentences went around and around in my head. 

Twenty minutes ago I had a 3 minute conversation with the boyfriend/old ex-boyfriend. 

I had called 4 of my girlfriends and patiently waited for them to call me back. I needed a sounding board.

It was already past 11 on Monday night. I didn’t look forward to trying to sleep tonight.

The sentences turned around and around in my head. I started to wonder if my own voice was ever going to come back.

Three years ago, I would’ve continued to have a loopy one-sided conversation for days. Three years ago, my heart would’ve continued to race and sweat until I got dizzy. Three years ago, I would’ve taken an Ativan and turned off my phone. 

And then I realized 1 thing. I didn’t need to have a 1 sided conversation anymore. I didn't need to play how/what/why with my girlfriends for hours. This isn’t three years ago. Three years ago has got to stay in three years ago. 

My hand became steady and I exhaled. I called him back. I said the words as they came to me. I started with ‘I’m stuck in my head and need to talk it out.’

I’m horrible at these conversations. I’m horrible with being honest about my feelings about things that bother me. I’m used to just dealing with bad outcomes rather than working through a problem. 

We’re in the same boat right now. And it’s terrifying and eye opening and heart breaking and heart mending at the same time. 

Friday night we had a five hour long date and were the last ones in the restaurant. It was pretty damn great.  

At one point during the night, the topic turned sideways. He said the following ‘Can I tell you about something I’ve been discussing with my therapist?’

And he opened up. Three years ago this wouldn’t have happened. 

We would’ve kept dancing politely around each other, desperately trying to not rock the boat. And three years ago, though we were both unhappy with ourselves and each other, we didn’t speak up until there was nothing left to the relationship. 

After he was done talking and I was done listening, he exhaled and ended with 'That was really hard for me to say.'  

I'm not going to go into details on what he shared with me but overall nothing he said was totally new information to me. We had already discussed the top of the iceberg of what was going on and now was the harder part, the murky, hidden parts below the surface. 

We spent the weekend together and had a great time. We were social as a couple and then had lazy time. We started making plans for the week when he drove me to the train. Tonight, while on the phone something he said bothered me. I hurriedly got off the phone.

Then twenty minutes later I called him back. And explained my confusion and asked for more answers and asked him to tell me how he was feeling. 

Three years ago, this wouldn't have happened. I’m not saying we’ve had a break through but tonight I realized that some time in the last 8 months with him, I decided to become an adult. And realized that decision isn’t exactly an uphill battle or roller coaster, but more like the tea cup ride at DisneyLand.

There are times where you’re both spinning the wheel in the same direction and the dizziness puts you both in a high, and then there are times -whether you realize it or not- you're taking turns pulling the wheel in the opposite direction so you both slow down to sort out what's going on. 

We're in the pull part right now. And like I said, it's challenging but that's also why I have multiple fluffy pillows on my bed.

The Feb 14th

I don't understand Valentine's Day. I appreciate the rom-com movie marathons that take over cable television and the Empire State Building sparkling in red and pink, but I still don't get it.

I liked getting Valentine's Day cards dropped in my desk mailbox in elementary school. And feeling that swell of self-accomplishment at the end of the day if my crush had dropped one off. 

In middle school I'd just buy red and pink M&Ms for my best girlfriends and skip the cards.

In high school, while I was away at boarding school, my mother would always send me a card and my brother would send me carnations. And I watched rom-com marathons. 

In college through my early twenties I would typically just go out with girlfriends and have an unofficial anti-Valentines Day by getting drunk and not actually acknowledging the holiday. 

Then...I had this Valentines Day.

After that I turned Valentines Day back into February 14th. 

Now as you know I'm back with the ex again. And things are good. We both have things we need to work on and certain hurdles to get through. 

Especially with his 37th birthday coming up next month and him coming to terms with getting older. I have a feeling he'll want to down play/not celebrate at all but I'm sure we'll acknowledge it in some way. Considering I celebrate my birthday for a week at least, he can't really get away with not celebrating his. 

So about Valentines Day. I've already gotten a few confused reactions from friends when I told them my plans...what I ended up doing was buying a handful of tickets to a 9pm comedy show. It was a spontaneous decision I made last week not knowing if the boyfriend is going to be working late or not, I was determined to at least have plans. 

I told him about the tickets today as he mentioned his schedule is going to be crazy this week. I realized now I should've perhaps explained my thought process and at least acknowledged the holiday. 

But really, I didn't. I made it simple to not stir up old memories for me. I cooly explained if he wasn't working late I have an extra ticket for him. 

This was my way of taking charge and saying we don't need any extra pressure right now- especially to make fancy weekday dinner reservations somewhere when both of our work schedules are unpredictable. 

If we want to do a nice dinner, let's plan it during a day that makes sense for both of us. 

I didn't actually get into the whole take charge part and didn't realize I was avoiding the holiday till I was on my way back to my apartment. 

I don't need a shrink-a-dink to tell me why I'm avoiding the holiday...I don't want to be disappointed like I was a couple years ago. Plain and simple. 

So I'm making plans that make sense. And yes, of course, I will take advantage of this silly heart holiday and probably get some new lingerie that I needed anyway. 

I realize I end up wearing his boxers and tshirts to bed more and more and it wouldn't kill me to buy some lace and silk. 

Though let's face it, I've read enough Cosmo to know that men don't really care what a girl wears to bed as long as it comes off easily. 

19 Scarves

I own 19 scarves. 

I probably wear the same 2 or 3 a season and yet I own 19. It’s really amazingly unnecessary. I’m going through a bit of a purge right now. I call it the Bed Bug Purge. (I won’t get into it but there’s a reason why I haven’t posted yet this year and why I know I own 19 scarves.)

SO recently, I’ve been taking a look at everything...from the food I eat, the friends I keep and the things that fill my drawers. I’ve moved 5 times in 6 years. I don’t know why it’s taken me this long, but I’m finally looking at what I’ve been carrying all these years.

When I was 17 I bought my first sexy bra from Victoria’s Secrets. My best friend helped pick it out. It was the first bra that didn’t come from my mother. Even though the red lace was overpriced and padded, I thought it was the greatest thing I had ever purchased. I don’t know how many lucky gentlemen got to see that bra, but considering I didn’t actually cash in my V-Card till I was 19, probably not that many. But it made me feel great when I wore it.

My body has changed a lot since I was 17 and the bra has been 2 cup sizes too small for about 7 years and yet, I’ve been carrying it with me. It’s sat in my drawer like an unmatched lost earring. (also, addicting space wasters)

I took one last look at this weekend and then threw it out. I really don’t know why I hung on to it for so long. I mean, I’m a sentimental gal but I’m not that thoughtful. Maybe a part of me thought one day my body would shrink back down to 17 years old? Maybe I thought it was a symbol of my young adult years? But I’m not sure. Most of those years I’d rather gloss over anyway.

I’ve been happy with who I am for awhile now. When I turned 28 in December my esteem swelled and I realized a very simple fact that nobody could’ve convinced me of when I was 17, I’m only going to get better with age. So why do I hang on to these things still? These things aren’t timeless valuables...

Socks with holes in them, or socks that look like a muppet’s ass?  Or shirts that just don’t fit right? I guess it’s for the same reason why we hang on to friends even when they don’t return our calls or texts for months? Or why we stay in jobs that make us miserable? Or why we leave the dirty dishes in the sink overnight? Because it’s easy. Leaving things as is, is the easiest thing in the world to do because it’s not doing anything.

How is it that we are the busiest, most connected people...ever, but when it comes time to confront anything – big or small- it’s the hardest thing in the world? I guess it’s my 1 real resolution this year. Confrontation.

Emailing the friend whose been ignoring me for months and asking for an explanation. Telling him I’m hurt. Signing up for a cooking class. Okay I haven’t done that one yet, but it’s on the list. And the biggest thing, dumping extra baggage. Getting rid of over a dozen scarves that haven’t hung on my neck in years. It’s like that lacey bra...just because it’s pretty doesn’t mean it needs to take up space. I mean if I thought it was that important, I’d fucking frame it. Besides, I’m a woman who will learn to cook this year...I don’t need to hang on to a lacey bra that doesn’t fit just because it cost more than $30 eleven years ago.

Leaving The Worry

It's a funny feeling to not have the weight of a big worry anymore after it pushes you down for months. 

By habit, I still intermittently go back to the brain fuck of wondering where me and him are and where we stand and how he feels and not knowing. I've known for over a week now that we're on the same page.  

We're together and don't want to be with other people. We know this works but don't know what the future holds. He now knows my indecision of marriage and kids and I know now he's insecure and scared of getting older. We recognize that we each have things to work through independently but aren't letting it get in the way of where we are now. Life is too short and complicated to let the future muddle the now.

I went through getting stuck in a 'mental emergency landing position' this time last year so I know the procedure of how to get out of it by now.  It takes time to get out of a negative thought pattern. It's like anything else, practice.

But I have all the answers I need right now and my present is like a present. I get to enjoy it and not get stuck in the 'what if' cycle. I'm not saying it's perfect but there's something peaceful about not having the 'what if's' clog my brain. 

I spent the last 24 hours with him at his place. Talking, eating, laughing, sleeping/not sleeping ;)

And thoughts of worry got in a few times but then I kindly told them to leave. They were in the past. Sure, different ones will show up in the future but for now they can go stand out in the cold. I have someone now, who holds my hand and care if I'm cold or warm. 

I still take it day to day because nothing is guaranteed. If the last few years have taught me anything it's to not jump into anything and if something seems too good too be true, it typically means the good isn't true. 

So in my mind, if something actually is good and you have confirmation it's true, that doesn't mean you invite him home for the holidays, it means you just kiss a little longer.

Just call me Mandy Moore

If I could be any female celebrity I'd be Mandy Moore. 

I'm not ashamed to say I like her tweets, her music and most of her movie choices. 
Judge me if you will but I think every one has a celebrity alter ego and she's mine.

But right now I'm kind of itching to not be in her fictional skin. 

If you've seen Because I Said So this will make SO much more sense but regardless, enjoy.

Mom, text: Hi. Don't ask questions. 
What was the name of the broker you dated a few years ago? Was it Jason?

Me: What? No, it was Kevin. Why?

silence.

Me: Mom?

Next came a call from my mom. I answered hesitantly.

Me: What are you doing?

Mom: I found a 27 year old broker named Jason on JDate and I think he'd be perfect for you.

Me: silence.

Me: (stuttering for five minutes) 
Why are you looking at 27 year olds on JDate?

Mom: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's fine.
Go to bed, it's late.

Me: Mom...please stop. Please. Mom?  (more stuttering)

Mom: I have to go now. Goodbye. (hangs up)

Me, text to mom: Can you please stop being Diane Keaton now?

Mom: You may be pleasantly surprised. You can thank me later. HAGN.

(end scene)

And yes, my mother created her own text slang for Have a good night. 

The After (the vodka edition)

I wish there was a book that explains that after part of love.  
And maybe I’ll have to write about it one day, if I make it far enough into it.
From my experience in between tweets and texts...I really don’t think anyone says ‘And do you love me’ anymore...and then break into song about being married for twenty-five years with Jewish daughters. (Fiddler on the Roof for those who missed it.)
Most of us forget that men and woman think completely different of each other. 
Not even an easy, multi-equation polar opposite...but according to Venus and Mars...different. 
And when drinking is involved, the difference gets bigger.

But both of us learn grammar the same.
So when midnight chimes on a Friday, 
while standing on a crowded platform 
and a vodka filled girl (ahem, me) says these words: 
“So...I’ve been thinking about the us...and I didn’t want to be the one to talk about the we. But I want to know your thoughts...it’s been 4 months and we’ve been hanging out as a we...but as an us. I just think we should. I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. I hate talking about the we...” 

...I wish I was paraphrasing but I think that’s almost exactly how I brought up the inevitable conversation.

He looked down at me as the train was coming and held me closer. There was a smile in his voice when he spoke next.
“I really don’t think this is the time or place for this.”

I knew he was right but I hated that I was wrong since I had been (over) thinking about it so much. 
I pouted and probably swayed a little to make sure I was still standing.
He asked me what I expected him to say right then and there.
“Something simple, something neat and simple and quick. I hate talking about this.”
I explained in between subway stops as I bumped against him.
I made a drunken sad face, immediately regretting whatever I said, “Did I even make a full sentence?”

He kissed me and kept hold of me.
“Don’t freak out. This just isn’t the place.”
I moved my facial expression a hundred times.
“Don’t freak out. I’ll talk to you soon.”
He kissed me again and again. I didn’t want to let go.
“Your mom is in town tomorrow. We’ll talk. I’m kissing you to reassure you that it’ll be OK.”
I kissed him back and let go...

A Pocket of Time

It was not a normal Monday. 
He had just cooked us dinner and as we sat down to eat at his new dining room table,
we lost electricity.
Without missing a beat he was up lighting candles and turning on flashlights.

The reality of the devastation that the storm would bring wouldn’t fully hit me until the end of the week when I was back in my own apartment watching the news.
Until then, we were in a bubble.

By Wednesday work would be fully cancelled for the week and not on a day to day basis.
Electricity and trains would slowly start being restored.
Until then though I was very much aware that this scenario was a fantasy come true for me.

It was my beginning of a rom com.
That great bonding montage you never think will happen in real life..
the elevator you get stuck in with the cute stranger,
the three day road trip you end up doing last minute with your crush.

Time that is given to you so you can just be you with someone you care about,
and nothing else getting in the way.

We had no lights, phones, cable or internet.
We had beer and wine and books and board games.
We told each other stories.
We asked each other questions.
We flirted and played.
We had the kind of good sex you really only have while on vacation in a hotel room far away from real life.

And I knew it wasn’t real.

The stress of work and family drama would come back.
We’d be two people again trying to fit in each other's lives and figure out where we stand.

But in those 5 days, even though I wore no makeup and his pajamas everyday,
I liked how we fit together.
Though I missed hot showers and my contacts
and my books and my own bed and lip gloss,
I liked how we fit together.

It could’ve been the circumstances of Sandy finally putting us in the same space
or it could’ve been us becoming the good part of us again.

Later I’d feel lucky. Absolutely lucky and guilty. From this storm I got a staycation with candles and good sex, while others had their life destroyed.

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