Friday, August 12, 2011
secrets
i've been keeping a lot of secrets lately. this is unusual as I'm known for being really honest, maybe too honest sometimes. maybe they're secrets, or maybe i'm just keeping my cards close to my chest. i don't want to know what people think of my choices lately and i know if I tell them they'll weigh in, and to be honest, I don't care what they say. so i'm keeping lots of secrets. it's driving me a little crazy, but let's call it discretion, and discretion can never be a bad thing.
Monday, July 18, 2011
choked
I’m choked. I’m known for being honest and open, and with everything that’s been happening lately, I’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. It’s like I can’t find the words to say how I feel, and I don’t want to create more drama than I already have. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I wish I could say what I meant without hurting anyone.
I can feel your relief when I don’t mention him, it feels like you wouldn’t mind if he just disappeared out of my life to become a distant memory. This has been one of the most emotionally mature relationships I’ve been in, and while I consider where this relationship fits in my life I can’t help but consider the strain of feeling uncomfortable both mentioning him and leaving him out of the narrative. I can feel the tension in the room when he’s brought up and I take it as disregard toward one of the most important relationships in my life, someone who’s been my best friend for the last while. When I leave it out of the narrative, say I watched a movie alone, or went to the farmers market alone, the feeling of relief I get from you makes me sad, makes me feel like you’d rather I’d be alone than with someone you feel is wildly inappropriate for me. The irony is, you raised me not to judge, and I feel that’s what you’re doing.
You might wonder why I haven’t really been around lately, or you might chalk it up to me wanting to be alone because of what happened. The truth is, I think you were too truthful with me and you closed the door to me wanting to be honest about what’s going on. I know it’s a typical girl reaction when a guy is hurting your friend to rally against him, and say he was never good enough, and you never really liked him in the first place and I’m so much better than him and I could have any guy I want and you always wondered why I was with him. But I never did, and even though we’re not together, I still respect him. He never treated me badly, never disrespected me. Now, I’m trying to decide if and where he might fit in my life. I don’t think I can explore those options with you, it seems like you slammed the door shut with your condemnation. I’d feel shy about telling you if we got back together. I fell silly talking to you about the details of this process I’m going through. I know you had the best intentions, but I need you to know why I’ve been so M.I.A.
I try to live my life without disregard for others, and without making decisions in isolation without consideration of those people who are important to me. I’m at a loss in this however, and luckily enough I have some other great friends in my life to listen and help, even if at the moment, I’m a blubbering idiot, choked with the thought of trying to elucidate my feelings.
I can feel your relief when I don’t mention him, it feels like you wouldn’t mind if he just disappeared out of my life to become a distant memory. This has been one of the most emotionally mature relationships I’ve been in, and while I consider where this relationship fits in my life I can’t help but consider the strain of feeling uncomfortable both mentioning him and leaving him out of the narrative. I can feel the tension in the room when he’s brought up and I take it as disregard toward one of the most important relationships in my life, someone who’s been my best friend for the last while. When I leave it out of the narrative, say I watched a movie alone, or went to the farmers market alone, the feeling of relief I get from you makes me sad, makes me feel like you’d rather I’d be alone than with someone you feel is wildly inappropriate for me. The irony is, you raised me not to judge, and I feel that’s what you’re doing.
You might wonder why I haven’t really been around lately, or you might chalk it up to me wanting to be alone because of what happened. The truth is, I think you were too truthful with me and you closed the door to me wanting to be honest about what’s going on. I know it’s a typical girl reaction when a guy is hurting your friend to rally against him, and say he was never good enough, and you never really liked him in the first place and I’m so much better than him and I could have any guy I want and you always wondered why I was with him. But I never did, and even though we’re not together, I still respect him. He never treated me badly, never disrespected me. Now, I’m trying to decide if and where he might fit in my life. I don’t think I can explore those options with you, it seems like you slammed the door shut with your condemnation. I’d feel shy about telling you if we got back together. I fell silly talking to you about the details of this process I’m going through. I know you had the best intentions, but I need you to know why I’ve been so M.I.A.
I try to live my life without disregard for others, and without making decisions in isolation without consideration of those people who are important to me. I’m at a loss in this however, and luckily enough I have some other great friends in my life to listen and help, even if at the moment, I’m a blubbering idiot, choked with the thought of trying to elucidate my feelings.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
rotten
I'm sad. Very sad. And broke. Very broke. So I can't even assauge my sadness in mindless shopping. Lucky for me I have enough bottles of wine to last me through the week. Lucky? to not think would be. work distracts. slightly. just feeling rotten. to the core.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
mini-vacation
While we were away:
We ate at a fifties diner in Golden and sat by the Jukebox but we didn’t want to scare the elderly that populated the place so he squirmed at the possibility that when I put coins in the machine, I may pick “My Humps”. Drank a cold pint and some cutlets with mashed potatoes and mixed veggies, reminded me of Grandma’s sides.
We had several leisurely mornings, devouring both newspapers for the day, drinking copious amounts of coffee and eating what he proclaimed as breakfast made by the woman who makes the best breakfasts ever.
We declared eleven am as cocktail hour and drank too many beermosas rendering us quite sauced in the afternoons which we spent playing scrabble, crib, and golf.
We played golf with a lovely 85 year old named Basil, who beat the pants off of us and most likely highlighted our afternoon condition.
We spent an afternoon with my grandparents, sat on the patio and then the boys retired to play an excessive amount of pool while the girls gabbed until dusk.
We cuddled, a lot.
We spent the last afternoon tanning on the driveway and moaning over our luck that the last day was the only sunny day.
We left; relaxed, sunburned, and happy.
We ate at a fifties diner in Golden and sat by the Jukebox but we didn’t want to scare the elderly that populated the place so he squirmed at the possibility that when I put coins in the machine, I may pick “My Humps”. Drank a cold pint and some cutlets with mashed potatoes and mixed veggies, reminded me of Grandma’s sides.
We had several leisurely mornings, devouring both newspapers for the day, drinking copious amounts of coffee and eating what he proclaimed as breakfast made by the woman who makes the best breakfasts ever.
We declared eleven am as cocktail hour and drank too many beermosas rendering us quite sauced in the afternoons which we spent playing scrabble, crib, and golf.
We played golf with a lovely 85 year old named Basil, who beat the pants off of us and most likely highlighted our afternoon condition.
We spent an afternoon with my grandparents, sat on the patio and then the boys retired to play an excessive amount of pool while the girls gabbed until dusk.
We cuddled, a lot.
We spent the last afternoon tanning on the driveway and moaning over our luck that the last day was the only sunny day.
We left; relaxed, sunburned, and happy.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
honeymoon's over?
I think we’re past the honeymoon stage. If I measure our time together using what we deemed to be our ‘anniversary’- the day we first met- May 31 would have been our 7 month ‘anniversary’. Of course I don’t believe in this stuff, but his words are coming back to haunt me.
“Are we at six months already? I start to act like an asshole after that,” he said jokingly.
I laughed then, thinking the blissful dome of happy we had created couldn’t be penetrated by timelines. It comes a month late, so maybe they don’t, but maybe we’re past what they call – ‘the honeymoon phase’. I imagine this as having a soundtrack of chirping birds and tasting so sweet making everything look rosy and new. And at the time, I didn’t realize it. But now we’ve hit a bump and at the bottom of it, I can still see and hear and smell that phase, but I can’t reach it.
I know it’s only a bump, but it feels a little like a precarious balancing act. Things could go so wrong. It’s kind of scary and reminds me of why I never really committed before this. I constantly have a knot in my stomach. But this time, I’m standing up for myself and not backing down—and if it means he wants to leave me; he doesn’t really love me as much as he says, ‘cause he would stay. I don’t want him to prostrate with his apologies, but I like when he at least acknowledges the fault or the bad. This time our fight was a little different- him more defensive, me more frustrated.
And I don’t feel it was resolved – but it’s only been one day. Obviously I’m a newbie at couples fighting.
So here’s hoping we just tripped and fell and need some time to brush ourselves off and walk off into the sunset with the chirping birds and rosy view and sweet taste in our mouths.
“Are we at six months already? I start to act like an asshole after that,” he said jokingly.
I laughed then, thinking the blissful dome of happy we had created couldn’t be penetrated by timelines. It comes a month late, so maybe they don’t, but maybe we’re past what they call – ‘the honeymoon phase’. I imagine this as having a soundtrack of chirping birds and tasting so sweet making everything look rosy and new. And at the time, I didn’t realize it. But now we’ve hit a bump and at the bottom of it, I can still see and hear and smell that phase, but I can’t reach it.
I know it’s only a bump, but it feels a little like a precarious balancing act. Things could go so wrong. It’s kind of scary and reminds me of why I never really committed before this. I constantly have a knot in my stomach. But this time, I’m standing up for myself and not backing down—and if it means he wants to leave me; he doesn’t really love me as much as he says, ‘cause he would stay. I don’t want him to prostrate with his apologies, but I like when he at least acknowledges the fault or the bad. This time our fight was a little different- him more defensive, me more frustrated.
And I don’t feel it was resolved – but it’s only been one day. Obviously I’m a newbie at couples fighting.
So here’s hoping we just tripped and fell and need some time to brush ourselves off and walk off into the sunset with the chirping birds and rosy view and sweet taste in our mouths.
Monday, April 11, 2011
broken barrier
he farted in front of me. It was awesome.
You may wonder why, but for me it was a new level in our relationship. We talked about it. We talked about pooping too. Which makes things less awkward and constipated feeling all around. Not like we'll go around farting in front of each other all the time now. Because that's not romantic or conducive to getting it on. Everything just feels more honest now. And really, what's love but still liking your partner even when they're stinky once in a while.
You may wonder why, but for me it was a new level in our relationship. We talked about it. We talked about pooping too. Which makes things less awkward and constipated feeling all around. Not like we'll go around farting in front of each other all the time now. Because that's not romantic or conducive to getting it on. Everything just feels more honest now. And really, what's love but still liking your partner even when they're stinky once in a while.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
why running is unladylike
I was running to catch a light the other morning, and all of a sudden had a sharp pain on my shin. Looking down, I saw my iPhone flying towards a patch of grass and realized my bag had flown open. Looking up the path I’d been running, I realized my things were strewn all over the place and would have to (ungraciously) go and retrieve them.
Suddenly, I flashed back to a moment several months ago when I was working on a media availability with my EVP. He wanted to go see the space we planned to use and I was just finishing up an email as he was walking out the door. I ran to catch up in my heels and dress and he gave me a look like I was on another planet. “Why would you run?” he said. I was mortified.
These two experiences have led me to the conclusion that running is unladylike and should be avoided at all costs. If you want to arrive as a lady: calm, collected, put together – you walk. If you want to arrive looking like an unorganized sloppy teenager, and feel like one, you run. Just think of the image of everything flopping and the sweat slowly accumulating under your arms and on your forehead. Do you think Elizabeth Taylor ever arrived anywhere looking like that? No. She made it a point to be late. She was even late for her funeral. So, in the interests of everyone you're meeting, running should be relegated to you’re late for a plane, train or bus (that you cannot catch the next one), or you’re running for sport (i.e. dressed to sweat).
Suddenly, I flashed back to a moment several months ago when I was working on a media availability with my EVP. He wanted to go see the space we planned to use and I was just finishing up an email as he was walking out the door. I ran to catch up in my heels and dress and he gave me a look like I was on another planet. “Why would you run?” he said. I was mortified.
These two experiences have led me to the conclusion that running is unladylike and should be avoided at all costs. If you want to arrive as a lady: calm, collected, put together – you walk. If you want to arrive looking like an unorganized sloppy teenager, and feel like one, you run. Just think of the image of everything flopping and the sweat slowly accumulating under your arms and on your forehead. Do you think Elizabeth Taylor ever arrived anywhere looking like that? No. She made it a point to be late. She was even late for her funeral. So, in the interests of everyone you're meeting, running should be relegated to you’re late for a plane, train or bus (that you cannot catch the next one), or you’re running for sport (i.e. dressed to sweat).
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