Bookmarked and Waiting for the Next Chapter

Location: Bedroom
Mood: Benign

I think a lot about relationships in all their various forms. This often starts with me pondering the various intricacies that make up a particular connection in my life, be it a bond between myself and a family member, an interaction with an acquaintance, or the dynamic I have developed with a client. Recently, these pondering have routinely turned to one of two subjects:

My romantic relationships, or my relationship with myself.

Lately, I find that one begets another. It seems that I've reached some kind of interpersonal stalemate.  I have been single for the last two years, and this time has been incredibly valuable to me. It seems weird to say so, but I had no idea how much I didn't know about myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm in no way saying that any of my previous relationships have kept me from learning about myself. However, they've definitely served as a distraction from me and my own world.

I think that everything about me is somewhat contradictory. For example, I'm pretty neurotic, and relatively insecure. In contrast, I'm comfortable in my insecurity, and I find most of my neurosis empowering. I'm able to laugh about myself, and accept teasing or criticism in most instances. In fact, I often invite it as an opportunity to connect with others.

In the past, I allowed myself to become distracted by romantic relationships. This effectively kept me from embracing who I am, and it was easier that way.  I couldn't describe why I was the way I was, because the opposing aspects of my personality were confusing and stressful. Instead, I unknowingly ignored it. Thinking I knew who I was, I forged on with external relationships, before cultivating the one that is the most important and will stay with me for my entire life. I don't think this was unhealthy, but I do think it set me back in creating a future for myself.

In the last two years, I've had the time to get to know myself in a way I never really did. I've acknowledged the enigmatic aspects of my personality. I've embraced the parts of me about which I am unsure.  I have developed a trust in who I am, and what I am capable of. I find solace in my introspection, and enjoy the idiosyncrasies that make me who I am. I'm sassy and sweet. I'm wrecklessly cautious. I'm silly, but serious. I'm gracefully clumsy, and accommodatingly ironic. I'm insightful and entertaining, and I'd have it no other way.

 There are roads I plan to travel, and places I intend to take myself in this journey. I'm prepared to grow, and learn, and laugh, and love. Despite my fears, I'm ready for this life. But, like I said, I've come to a stalemate. I've reached a page break in the story of my life.

I've cultivated my relationship with myself; it is strong and reliable. Which means it's time for me to look outward, and develop other meaningful relationships. One begets another.

Standing Up For Myself

Location: Apartment
Mood: Irritated

I've reached my breaking point. I'm done. I'm tired of dealing with this crap.

What am I talking about? Glad you asked.

It turns out I've surrounded myself with a group of people who are not so great at the whole friendship thing. For awhile, I thought maybe I wasn't trying hard enough to keep contact. So, I turned that up. I made every effort to contact distant friends, and make plans. I called, texted, and wrote, but got minimal response.

Then I thought, maybe I was bailing on my "friends" more than I should. That's when I decided to try a little harder in that department. I started dropping everything whenever they called. This is when I realized something: They don't call me. They are standing me up. They are being flaky and passive aggressive with me.

For this reason, I'm over it. I'm done. I don't care any more. I'm out.

I'm tired of pretending we're friends. Let's call it what it is: We're not really friends.

If we were: You would be calling me too. You would be making an effort as well. You would not be texting me once every 6 months telling me you miss me and we should "hang out soon." You wouldn't be telling me you'd love to hang out if your prior commitment ends early enough. You wouldn't blame it on the 11 miles between us. You wouldn't say "if I wasn't so tired," or "our schedules are just so different." If we were friends I'd hear from you, I'd see you, and I'd know what was going on.

I have a few friends I can rely on. You know who you are, and you know this doesn't apply to you. For everyone else: That's it. I'm done trying to contact you. I'm not going to expend the energy, and ultimately end up alone on my couch because you slept in, or forgot we had plans. I deserve better than that.

Don't get me wrong. I still care about you, and I'd love to see you. However, it's your turn to make it happen. You need to take a second to figure out if you actually want to see me too. If you don't, than this is it. No more. I'm not going to be the reliable one anymore. The ball's in your court. Try stepping up to the plate, and working around my life for a change.

Creep Magnet

Location: Lola's Room
Mood: Bemused

Have I ever talked about the type of men I attract?  I don't think I have.
It's bad.

I tend to attract the creeps. The weirdos. The (for lack of a better descriptor) losers. And, despite my best efforts, I either warrant no attention from the decent guys, or I somehow wind up in an awkward scenario which effectively repels them.

For example, tonight I went dancing with a friend. I wound up dancing with a guy who wasn't going to steal my heart, but he was cute enough, plus he didn't mind making a fool of himself (my biggest turn on). We're having a good time flirting, and comparing dance moves. I'm thinking, "this is alright!"

Meanwhile, there's this creepy middle-aged man with floppy blond hair in a Ryder Strong cut. We have not even had an interaction, but he is circling us, and throwing me awkward compliments like "I love your pants!" or "that shirt is great!" and "oh my god, those shoes!" He's doing this, repeatedly.  In three minutes, he must have complimented my outfit at least four times. I thanked him at first, but then it was uncomfortable. Also, throughout the night, anytime he looked over and saw me there he'd say "Oh hey!" or "it's you!" like we were buddies. So, I used my most powerful tool: I was ignoring it.

I was having a good time dancing with the decently attractive fun guy.

Then, the music gets quieter for a minute and Creepo yells, "hey, hot pants? Where's your husband?!"

Fun Dancer freezes, yells, "you better go find him!"   and runs off, never to be seen again (along with all the other viable options on the dance floor). I'm left, alone with the uncomfortable complimenting man in a crowd of 80s garb.

Seriously?! Is this my life?