I realized a long time ago that dating in SLO has many pitfalls, but perhaps the biggest one is that my girlfriends have either dated or slept with all the boys our age. They've even slept with the same guys and later compared notes. I have sat through too many dinners where the girls bitched about another girl dating a guy one of them hooked up with years ago. They commonly refer to guys as "my Chris" or "Alicia's Cody", even if a decade has passed. These prefixes allow for all to know who conquered and claimed said males, and who you'll be crossing if you attempt to do the same. I get it, there's a code. But there's also the rules of supply and demand. When there are X amount of guys and 2X amount of girls, chances are you're going to hook up with a friend of a friend's.
I haven't really been myself lately. I've been drinking too much, going out too much and just not caring. I blame all of this behavior on not running (injury and illness). When I run, I go to bed early and fill my spare time with the gym or exploring trails. I don't have time to mess around with 21yr. old boys (yeah, I went there). I also don't drink a lot when I'm running because I'm constantly thinking about hydrating for the next day. Money that I've been using on dinner and drinks would typically be earmarked for new running gear and another race. Needless to say, running keeps me out of trouble.
I think I've been bored. And I haven't really run for two months. Excuses, I know. I'm just trying to figure out how I got here. The first night of debauchery was laughed at. Really? Did I do those things? Haha. Funny. But by Round 4 I was just as puzzled by my behavior as some of my friends. And then I crossed that line.
I hooked up (in the most innocent of definitions) with a "friend" of a friend. To be fair, I didn't know who he was, but he definitely knew who I was. One of my biggest fears is that I will just settle for the first guy who pays attention to me, and thus far my actions have proven me right. One of the things I miss most about being in a relationship is falling asleep next to someone; unfortunately no girlfriend can give me that. So I basked in the compliments that this tall, cute boy was showering me with. Then as I got more drunk I gave in completely to the flirtation. Lame. Fast forward two hours and I was walking home, hand in hand with a dude I'd just met. Somewhere between then and the next morning when I woke up, bits of information started clicking in my drunk little brain. Things he had said that night and things Girl X had said started matching up and I realized who I was sleeping next to. Her EX! I shook him awake (5am wake up call) and asked if he had dated Girl X. He responded with, "I thought you knew." My response was "Shit, she's going to kill me!" I grabbed my shoes and ran out the door. I did the 20 minute walk of shame (yeah, I was one of those girls) and tried to figure out what the hell had happened. I knew if I told her she would make my life miserable, but I didn't like this feeling of guilt that was starting to pull on my heart.
The next day I called the person I knew wouldn't judge me and spilled all to my baby sister. When I was done, she said "That doesn't sound like you. What are you going to change?" I realized that the people I was doing those things with were more drinking buddies, not friends. You can't really lean on a drinking buddy. And I do want a relationship; a boyfriend. I want to get married and have kids. I'm not going to get where I want to be if I continue making these choices. It's kind of like that Coldplay song, "When you get what you want, but not what you need."
So, for the past three weekends I have made a point to stay home, not drink and spend time with the people I love. I bought new running shoes and I've gotten back into the swing of running. I'm not saying I can't drink or go out, I just need to get right with myself before I do. I haven't told Girl X about her dude and I probably won't. Turns out, she's still hooking up with him and dating some other dude. So, yeah. It turns out running does more than keep me sane, it also keeps me out of trouble.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
I run for ice cream!!!
At the beginning of this year I made the resolution to run more races than last year (eight). But then I decided to amend the resolution by running 12 races in 12 months. I planned to run a beach race, an adventure race, an obstacle race, a trail run and a half marathon. Phew. I also made a mental note to attempt to blog about each. THAT hasn't happened, but I am happy to say that it's August and I've run 10 races. Not going to lie, I love the nervousness that happens before a race, the anticipation kills me. Once I know I'm doing a race that's all I want to talk about or think about. I'm planning on running a 10k on Sunday, but I ran a 5k at the beginning of August. It was part of the summer series in Santa Barbara and it was a BLAST! I feel like something magical happens when I run in Santa Barbara- I want to run harder and for longer. It might be the ocean breezes or the awesome views. Whatever it is, it propels me forward.
My little sister came to visit and we decided a day of shopping and racing would be perfect for sister bonding time. The weather was perfect and we even found tanks at Lulu Lemon that we were sure would help us pr. There was just one tiny glitch. I had a cut on my right heel. The day before while trying to wrestle the dog inside (away from the mailman, who was whistling up the driveway) I had scraped a large portion of skin off of my right heel. Now I'm no baby, but while attempting to clean my cut I screamed and cursed loud enough to warrant concern from the lady next door (I'm pretty sure she spies on us). I strapped two band aids on and hobbled around giving the sad smile and accepting all sympathy that was given.
As soon as I laced up my shoes I knew I was in trouble. My running shoes hug my heels- real tight. It's one of their greatest attributes. As Nikki made fun of my skip-walk to the starting line, I imagined the inside of my shoe where my band aids were being rubbed up and down, the adhesive slowly working it's way off. And then we were off.
A few steps into the run I knew the band aids were gone. I could feel the top of the heel of my shoe stabbing my heel with every turnover. And my socks became like sand paper. Friction on an open wound is definitely a form of torture. For the first half mile all I could think about was the pain. Dreading it, anticipating it and feeling it with every footfall. And then I realized that my shoulders were practically up to my ears, I was so tense and my hands were balled up in tight fists. I had two options- stop, take my shoe off (the cut wasn't going away) and walk back, OR I could suck it up (the cut wasn't going away) and do what I came to do- RUN. So often in running you have to transcend the physical. So I did just that and before I knew it I was at the turnaround point.
As I finished the race and scanned the crowd for my much faster sister the thoughts going through my mind were, do I want the ahi or chicken wrap? Should I get mint chip or cookies and cream ice cream? (This was one of those awesome races where they provide food for the runners.) Suddenly, there was a tap on my shoulder. "You're bleeding." What?!! I quickly scanned and groped myself trying to remember if I'd been shot and hadn't noticed due to the adrenaline. "No, on your leg." Right. I'd completely forgotten about my heel. Turning around I saw that the band aids were gone and when I took off my shoe I found that my sock and shoe were also bloody. The sock had also been pushed up so it appeared as though I had a large wound (the kind that might warrant amputation). It reminded me of Curt Schilling's bloody sock in the 2004 World Series. Bad ass. Lesson learned. Sometimes you need to pull over and stop (February race- when I bruised my heel bone) and sometimes you need to push through the pain. You're the only one who knows which is the right choice. And no, I didn't pr, but I chose the ahi wrap and cookies 'n cream makes everything better. I'm definitely glad I pushed past the pain, because only then did I find my bliss.
*If I knew how to add pictures I would add the pic of my bloody heel.
My little sister came to visit and we decided a day of shopping and racing would be perfect for sister bonding time. The weather was perfect and we even found tanks at Lulu Lemon that we were sure would help us pr. There was just one tiny glitch. I had a cut on my right heel. The day before while trying to wrestle the dog inside (away from the mailman, who was whistling up the driveway) I had scraped a large portion of skin off of my right heel. Now I'm no baby, but while attempting to clean my cut I screamed and cursed loud enough to warrant concern from the lady next door (I'm pretty sure she spies on us). I strapped two band aids on and hobbled around giving the sad smile and accepting all sympathy that was given.
As soon as I laced up my shoes I knew I was in trouble. My running shoes hug my heels- real tight. It's one of their greatest attributes. As Nikki made fun of my skip-walk to the starting line, I imagined the inside of my shoe where my band aids were being rubbed up and down, the adhesive slowly working it's way off. And then we were off.
A few steps into the run I knew the band aids were gone. I could feel the top of the heel of my shoe stabbing my heel with every turnover. And my socks became like sand paper. Friction on an open wound is definitely a form of torture. For the first half mile all I could think about was the pain. Dreading it, anticipating it and feeling it with every footfall. And then I realized that my shoulders were practically up to my ears, I was so tense and my hands were balled up in tight fists. I had two options- stop, take my shoe off (the cut wasn't going away) and walk back, OR I could suck it up (the cut wasn't going away) and do what I came to do- RUN. So often in running you have to transcend the physical. So I did just that and before I knew it I was at the turnaround point.
As I finished the race and scanned the crowd for my much faster sister the thoughts going through my mind were, do I want the ahi or chicken wrap? Should I get mint chip or cookies and cream ice cream? (This was one of those awesome races where they provide food for the runners.) Suddenly, there was a tap on my shoulder. "You're bleeding." What?!! I quickly scanned and groped myself trying to remember if I'd been shot and hadn't noticed due to the adrenaline. "No, on your leg." Right. I'd completely forgotten about my heel. Turning around I saw that the band aids were gone and when I took off my shoe I found that my sock and shoe were also bloody. The sock had also been pushed up so it appeared as though I had a large wound (the kind that might warrant amputation). It reminded me of Curt Schilling's bloody sock in the 2004 World Series. Bad ass. Lesson learned. Sometimes you need to pull over and stop (February race- when I bruised my heel bone) and sometimes you need to push through the pain. You're the only one who knows which is the right choice. And no, I didn't pr, but I chose the ahi wrap and cookies 'n cream makes everything better. I'm definitely glad I pushed past the pain, because only then did I find my bliss.
*If I knew how to add pictures I would add the pic of my bloody heel.
Monday, May 16, 2011
But of course!
Today I found myself sitting on the beach eating a cinnamon roll and drinking coffee. It's one of those slightly cool, overcast days. I pulled my hood over my ears and started counting the waves. It's what I like to think of as brooding weather. It's neither depressing nor overly happy weather. It just is. In church yesterday the Gospel said (totally paraphrasing here) "It is not what is on the inside that defiles someone..." Envy, hate, laziness, etc. As soon as I heard this I sat up and looked around. It was as though a light bulb had gone off. Of course, it is only what we do to ourselves and, in turn, others that makes us less wholesome. So many of these things are put upon us by the outside world. But how do you let it go? It makes me wonder, how much of our lives do we choose, and how much is dictated to us? Even when I'm by myself there is this "ideal" that is the standard. It is what I measure myself against. I often question, do I do things because I want to, or because I think I have to? How do you attempt to explain to others your choices and at what point do you stop and give in, maybe they are right. How often do I do things "just because", no rationale involved? Not necessarily unaware of the consequences, but steadfastly assured that this is the right decision. I feel as though my life has been lived in one extreme or the other. Wantonly careless or afraid to take the next step. From one end of the pendulum to the other. Perhaps this is what life is all about, trying to find the balance and maintain it.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
No good, horrible, very bad... You get the picture.
I feel like I'm fairly optimistic. I love Mondays. When things are tough, more often than not, I can say, "It will get better." Maybe I'm having an off couple of weeks. I haven't been ME, lately.
Let's start with the biggest obstacle. I didn't get into UCLA. I applied to their program knowing full well that it's very competitive. They only take a handful of applicants a year. Yet, I silenced the negative voices that said, "What if you don't get in?" Of course I was getting in. Have you seen my resume? I was really looking forward to doing school full time. Nothing else. Just school. And now? I talked to an admissions counselor who gave me some options. Maybe that's the silver lining. I have options, but none of them equal me starting school in the fall. I'm ready to leave. I need something new. A new adventure, out of this rut. I hate my house, most of my really close friends have moved- I just feel so lonely. Yes, I will take some cheese with my whine.
And boys. I recently met a guy. He's cute, smart, hilarious and adores kids. I thought we were cool. And then... SILENCE. Kind of bummed. Maybe I'm being overly dramatic, but sometimes I wonder if I'm just not loveable.
I've been trying really hard to find some positive things here. But I can't. I actually cried for the first time in a long time. I have been craving something new for a while now. I feel like I'm slowly shrinking and dying inside. Ugh.
In church today the priest talked about faith, love and hope, the virtues of Christianity. At one point he said something that really resonated. "While Faith is spiritual, Hope is physical." Faith is what supports us and holds us up as the world crashes around us. Hope is what drives us forward. You don't hope for something in the past, you hope for something in the future. Hope is what pushes us to keep our eyes on the prize. My favorite Bible verse is Psalm 4. "Know that the Lord works wonders for the faithful; the Lord hears when I call out." Well, here I am calling out. I hope that Faith and Hope will carry me through this and I can get back to being ME.
Let's start with the biggest obstacle. I didn't get into UCLA. I applied to their program knowing full well that it's very competitive. They only take a handful of applicants a year. Yet, I silenced the negative voices that said, "What if you don't get in?" Of course I was getting in. Have you seen my resume? I was really looking forward to doing school full time. Nothing else. Just school. And now? I talked to an admissions counselor who gave me some options. Maybe that's the silver lining. I have options, but none of them equal me starting school in the fall. I'm ready to leave. I need something new. A new adventure, out of this rut. I hate my house, most of my really close friends have moved- I just feel so lonely. Yes, I will take some cheese with my whine.
And boys. I recently met a guy. He's cute, smart, hilarious and adores kids. I thought we were cool. And then... SILENCE. Kind of bummed. Maybe I'm being overly dramatic, but sometimes I wonder if I'm just not loveable.
I've been trying really hard to find some positive things here. But I can't. I actually cried for the first time in a long time. I have been craving something new for a while now. I feel like I'm slowly shrinking and dying inside. Ugh.
In church today the priest talked about faith, love and hope, the virtues of Christianity. At one point he said something that really resonated. "While Faith is spiritual, Hope is physical." Faith is what supports us and holds us up as the world crashes around us. Hope is what drives us forward. You don't hope for something in the past, you hope for something in the future. Hope is what pushes us to keep our eyes on the prize. My favorite Bible verse is Psalm 4. "Know that the Lord works wonders for the faithful; the Lord hears when I call out." Well, here I am calling out. I hope that Faith and Hope will carry me through this and I can get back to being ME.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
The One
I recently received a text that made me reevaluate one of my many theories. The text said "Hey P, moved to Texas. Just wanted to let you know that I've been dating someone seriously." Wait. WHAT? The text was from Aaron. The ONE. I haven't spoken to Aaron in 2 years. He emailed a year ago, the standard How's life? email. I haven't seen him since I boarded a plane after breaking up with him 3 years ago. Wait, take that back. I saw him at a race, but he didn't see me. I was pissed that he appeared to be better looking. Why couldn't he be bald and fat? My only consolation was that he appeared shorter. I was perplexed with the text. I assumed he was dating this whole time. In fact, I'd seen pictures of him on his brother's facebook with the same girl he'd cheated on me with. (She'll remain nameless.) When I mentioned that to a male roommate he responded with, "Well, doesn't it soften the blow knowing he cheated on you with his soul mate?" Wrong answer, dude. Initially, after the break up I thought we'd get back together. I hung on to every last aspect of the relationship.And for the first month after the break up I would spend my days crying and telling anyone who listened that I hated him. But he would call or text every night and I'd be better. Until we said goodnight. Then I'd be a mess- AGAIN. I ruined myself over this guy- mentally and physically. Why? Because he was THE ONE. You know, THE ONE! That whole fairy tale misconception that there's THE ONE out there for everyone. You just have to look hard enough and hold on tight when you find him. Blahblahblah! I call bull shit. "Bull Shit!" So, I concocted my own theory of THE ONE.
I believe that there are many ONEs out there. (Yes, I made something that is technically singular plural. I realize that this is improper, but it's a theory so just go with it.) There is THE ONE who you first fall in love with. THE ONE you get your first kiss from. THE ONE who teaches you new things. There is THE ONE who crushes your self esteem. And THE ONE who is your biggest cheerleader and shows you just how amazing you are. There is THE ONE who makes you question your beliefs. And there is THE ONE who breaks your heart in a completely absolute way. And yes, in the end, there is THE ONE that you marry. These guys that I dated (and who had the privilege of being called my boyfriend) were all at one point THE ONE. There was Nic, my on-off college boyfriend. He was THE ONE who showed me that just because a guy's a great friend doesn't mean that he'll be a great boyfriend. There was Jaime, he was THE ONE who was way too smart for me. He read books and listened to music that I hated. Why did I try to be something else for him? Ugh. There was Brian, who was THE ONE who wanted to get married and have babies right away. I was 22! Too soon. There was Hritz, he was THE ONE who constantly told me that I was beautiful and smart. (Serious self esteem booster) But when it became long distance I was the one doing the traveling. Eventually I realized that I shouldn't have to beg my boyfriend to see me. Hritz, was also, THE ONE who I decided to get back together with. But nothing had changed. The saying goes, if it's not broken, why fix it? In this case, it was not fixed- it was still broken. And there was Aaron. He was the only guy that I thought I was going to marry. Clearly, he was not THE ONE. In fact, he'd be THE ONE (said ominously to denote that he's an ex and all around bad dude. He's the guy in all black in the fairytale to let you know he's not the Right ONE). Yin and yang, one and the same.
But back to the text. How should I respond? My mean side wanted to text back "Who is this?" or something bitchy like "Don't screw this one up." Another part of me wanted to say something nice like, "Hope all's well with you and good luck in Texas." I eventually opted for neither. Silence.
**Listening to Pandora as I write this and Alanis' "Unsent" is on!!
"I used to be attracted to boys who would lie to me, and think solely about themselves". True. "Used" to.
PS- I really don't spend all my time wistfully staring out the window thinking about dudes. Hopefully, future posts will show that.
I believe that there are many ONEs out there. (Yes, I made something that is technically singular plural. I realize that this is improper, but it's a theory so just go with it.) There is THE ONE who you first fall in love with. THE ONE you get your first kiss from. THE ONE who teaches you new things. There is THE ONE who crushes your self esteem. And THE ONE who is your biggest cheerleader and shows you just how amazing you are. There is THE ONE who makes you question your beliefs. And there is THE ONE who breaks your heart in a completely absolute way. And yes, in the end, there is THE ONE that you marry. These guys that I dated (and who had the privilege of being called my boyfriend) were all at one point THE ONE. There was Nic, my on-off college boyfriend. He was THE ONE who showed me that just because a guy's a great friend doesn't mean that he'll be a great boyfriend. There was Jaime, he was THE ONE who was way too smart for me. He read books and listened to music that I hated. Why did I try to be something else for him? Ugh. There was Brian, who was THE ONE who wanted to get married and have babies right away. I was 22! Too soon. There was Hritz, he was THE ONE who constantly told me that I was beautiful and smart. (Serious self esteem booster) But when it became long distance I was the one doing the traveling. Eventually I realized that I shouldn't have to beg my boyfriend to see me. Hritz, was also, THE ONE who I decided to get back together with. But nothing had changed. The saying goes, if it's not broken, why fix it? In this case, it was not fixed- it was still broken. And there was Aaron. He was the only guy that I thought I was going to marry. Clearly, he was not THE ONE. In fact, he'd be THE ONE (said ominously to denote that he's an ex and all around bad dude. He's the guy in all black in the fairytale to let you know he's not the Right ONE). Yin and yang, one and the same.
But back to the text. How should I respond? My mean side wanted to text back "Who is this?" or something bitchy like "Don't screw this one up." Another part of me wanted to say something nice like, "Hope all's well with you and good luck in Texas." I eventually opted for neither. Silence.
**Listening to Pandora as I write this and Alanis' "Unsent" is on!!
"I used to be attracted to boys who would lie to me, and think solely about themselves". True. "Used" to.
PS- I really don't spend all my time wistfully staring out the window thinking about dudes. Hopefully, future posts will show that.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
There is no Santa Clause
I don't even know how to start this. My mind is spinning the conversation over and over and I still want to cry. Perhaps the best word is distraught. I am distraught.
Today I got to see my best friend, J, whom I haven't seen in a year. She is without a doubt my best of best friends. She is the other part to my puzzle piece. She can pick up my spirits and give out a good tongue lashing all in a matter of minutes. She is fiercely loyal and someone I have counted on as a constant in my life for 16 years. She lives in a different state and we don't get to see each other a lot. But we still talk on the phone and when we do see each other we revert back to the roles we had growing up. It's nice to know that some things don't change. I can think of no better way to spend an afternoon than swinging in the hammock giggling and sharing with a best friend.
The conversation started innocently enough. You see, J just filed for divorce- on February 14. But we weren't sad. Yes, we mourned the marriage and the hopes and dreams that went with it, but we also celebrated the fact that J was free. Free to pursue her dreams. Free to make her own decisions and find what makes her happy. J's wasn't a happy marriage. She had found her husband in compromising positions with other women. She had been forced to leave California because that's what he wanted. She was told he didn't want kids, even though he had once promised otherwise. And J was not completely innocent. She used her intelligence and acerbic tongue to insult and degrade him every chance she could. Two unhappy people only make each other miserable. So after five years of marriage they chose to end what probably shouldn't have been started.
After covering all of the important things (where will you live? what will you do?) we moved to the more trivial, do you think you'll start dating? I asked her this after warning her about a series of unfortunate dates I'd been on.
She looked me in the eye and said, "You can't judge me. Promise me that." What?
J then proceeded to fill me in on her "friend". A man she had met 7 years ago had found her on Facebook over a year ago. She was flattered by his attention but pointed out that they were both married. He claimed that he merely wanted to be friends, but in that same message confessed to having been attracted to her when they first met. Facebook messages gave way to texts, then skyping. Now as her marriage is over it has become non-stop phone calls and flirting. And yes, he's still married- with two kids.
As my mind began to realize that J was inserting herself into the plot of a lame Lifetime movie my heart began to sink. Growing up I had a very close group of girlfriends who were all religious and though we didn't go to the same churches (we were Catholic, Protestant and Muslim) we all shared the same core values. When J was baptized we all went, we celebrated Eid with S and they all came to my Confirmation. We held each other responsible and accountable. They were and are my moral compass. These friends are the voices in the back of my head whenever I waver.
J must've sensed my growing anger because she stopped and asked, "What are you thinking? Are you mad at me?" Yes. I was mad that she could so brazenly think that her actions would have no consequences. I was mad that she could be so selfish and think only of what she wanted. I was mad that the person I had always counted on to stand on the right side of good could be so wrong. How could she think that this was right?As I told her all of this I started crying.
"P, this is different than you and Aaron. I haven't slept with him. He's in a loveless marriage. He wants out."
I knew she would be defensive and stubborn, but my job as a friend is to tell her when she's making a wrong choice. She would do it for me.
I pointed out that her distracting him couldn't be helping his marriage. It's one thing for him to give up on his marriage on his own, and something completely different for him to be carrying on and deceiving his wife. How could J want to be in a relationship that has so much deception? Wouldn't he do the same to her? As J started to cry I knew she had thought of these things, as well. I reminded her of how when I found out Aaron was cheating on me and how she had sat on the couch wiping my tears and how she had held back my hair as I threw up from all the turmoil.
Reaching out my hand, I looked at her and said, "I don't want you to be THAT girl. That girl that I hated. It's not worth it, is it?" As J hesitated, I said "Then you have changed. You would have never thought this was right." I might as well have slapped her. "Don't say that! I am still me, P. It's still me. I feel like you're disgusted in me. I'm J and you're P. I'm still me."
We stopped talking about it after that and sat in silence. Eventually we decided to get some food and watch the last of the basketball game. But it still hung over us.
And when J went to leave I said our usual goodbye, "You're J and I'm P and I love you." But before I let her go, I whispered, "I'm not judging you. I just know that this won't make you happy."
I don't know what will happen to J and A. I wonder that she can't see that this is so wrong. I will keep reminding her what the right choice is, because that's what friends do.
Today I got to see my best friend, J, whom I haven't seen in a year. She is without a doubt my best of best friends. She is the other part to my puzzle piece. She can pick up my spirits and give out a good tongue lashing all in a matter of minutes. She is fiercely loyal and someone I have counted on as a constant in my life for 16 years. She lives in a different state and we don't get to see each other a lot. But we still talk on the phone and when we do see each other we revert back to the roles we had growing up. It's nice to know that some things don't change. I can think of no better way to spend an afternoon than swinging in the hammock giggling and sharing with a best friend.
The conversation started innocently enough. You see, J just filed for divorce- on February 14. But we weren't sad. Yes, we mourned the marriage and the hopes and dreams that went with it, but we also celebrated the fact that J was free. Free to pursue her dreams. Free to make her own decisions and find what makes her happy. J's wasn't a happy marriage. She had found her husband in compromising positions with other women. She had been forced to leave California because that's what he wanted. She was told he didn't want kids, even though he had once promised otherwise. And J was not completely innocent. She used her intelligence and acerbic tongue to insult and degrade him every chance she could. Two unhappy people only make each other miserable. So after five years of marriage they chose to end what probably shouldn't have been started.
After covering all of the important things (where will you live? what will you do?) we moved to the more trivial, do you think you'll start dating? I asked her this after warning her about a series of unfortunate dates I'd been on.
She looked me in the eye and said, "You can't judge me. Promise me that." What?
J then proceeded to fill me in on her "friend". A man she had met 7 years ago had found her on Facebook over a year ago. She was flattered by his attention but pointed out that they were both married. He claimed that he merely wanted to be friends, but in that same message confessed to having been attracted to her when they first met. Facebook messages gave way to texts, then skyping. Now as her marriage is over it has become non-stop phone calls and flirting. And yes, he's still married- with two kids.
As my mind began to realize that J was inserting herself into the plot of a lame Lifetime movie my heart began to sink. Growing up I had a very close group of girlfriends who were all religious and though we didn't go to the same churches (we were Catholic, Protestant and Muslim) we all shared the same core values. When J was baptized we all went, we celebrated Eid with S and they all came to my Confirmation. We held each other responsible and accountable. They were and are my moral compass. These friends are the voices in the back of my head whenever I waver.
J must've sensed my growing anger because she stopped and asked, "What are you thinking? Are you mad at me?" Yes. I was mad that she could so brazenly think that her actions would have no consequences. I was mad that she could be so selfish and think only of what she wanted. I was mad that the person I had always counted on to stand on the right side of good could be so wrong. How could she think that this was right?As I told her all of this I started crying.
"P, this is different than you and Aaron. I haven't slept with him. He's in a loveless marriage. He wants out."
I knew she would be defensive and stubborn, but my job as a friend is to tell her when she's making a wrong choice. She would do it for me.
I pointed out that her distracting him couldn't be helping his marriage. It's one thing for him to give up on his marriage on his own, and something completely different for him to be carrying on and deceiving his wife. How could J want to be in a relationship that has so much deception? Wouldn't he do the same to her? As J started to cry I knew she had thought of these things, as well. I reminded her of how when I found out Aaron was cheating on me and how she had sat on the couch wiping my tears and how she had held back my hair as I threw up from all the turmoil.
Reaching out my hand, I looked at her and said, "I don't want you to be THAT girl. That girl that I hated. It's not worth it, is it?" As J hesitated, I said "Then you have changed. You would have never thought this was right." I might as well have slapped her. "Don't say that! I am still me, P. It's still me. I feel like you're disgusted in me. I'm J and you're P. I'm still me."
We stopped talking about it after that and sat in silence. Eventually we decided to get some food and watch the last of the basketball game. But it still hung over us.
And when J went to leave I said our usual goodbye, "You're J and I'm P and I love you." But before I let her go, I whispered, "I'm not judging you. I just know that this won't make you happy."
I don't know what will happen to J and A. I wonder that she can't see that this is so wrong. I will keep reminding her what the right choice is, because that's what friends do.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Unicorns
I have theories. In fact, I have theories about some of these theories (meta-theories?). I border on the verge of crazy-town ever so often and these theories rationalize most of my actions.
I haven't seriously dated in the last three years. THREE YEARS! I've gone on the occasional date and the even more rare second date, but nothing serious. Initially, after my last relationship I had decided to take a year off and "date myself". I would do all the things I wanted, and I gave myself permission to be as selfish as possible.There was no set end date and no real reason why I decided to make it a year. So a year passed. And in that year I really started to get to know myself. To consciously choose to do things by myself, for myself. I really honed in on the things I loved and that which was quintessentially ME. In that year I made more friends and my social circle expanded. I put all of those friendships before any relationships. With so much love from my friends I was happy being single. I didn't need a boyfriend when I had a gaggle of best friends who loved me. And that year quickly melted into two years.
Last January was a turning point. Suddenly, my friends were all pairing up. Two best friends became engaged and everyone else spontaneously found a significant other. It was like musical chairs, but the music stopped playing for me. Game night became awkward when the couples had their "inside" jokes and I was left with no partner. I was no longer included on movie night and I became appalled by my friends' need to constantly touch or kiss each other as I attempted to have a conversation. Everyone was twitterpated except me.
I resolved to remedy the situation by finding a boyfriend. Easier said than done. After being set up on a series of horrible dates (a guy who may have been gay, the construction worker who was dumb as nails and the breathy, nerdy guy from church), I decided to take matters into my own hands. On-line dating. Match.com to be exact.
I paid for a month's subscription and waited for the inevitable onslaught of potential suitors. And it came. The number of cheesy lines and "winks" was initially an ego boost. But as I looked deeper at these guys I realized the flaw of on-line dating: too much information can be a bad thing.
Back when I lived in LA and did the whole party scene my friends and I came up with a game called "Find the Fatal Flaw". It was our way of guaranteeing that our hearts wouldn't be broken like they had in the past. Self-preservation, if you will. Everyone was responsible for sizing up any guys the others were interested in. My weakness has always been tall, blond boys. And while I became weak in the knees my friends would quickly point out the cell phone strapped to his belt (how did I not see it?) or the gum he was chewing (a clear sign of halitosis). Find the Fatal Flaw guaranteed that no one was good enough for us. We would give out wrong numbers, point and laugh and pat ourselves on the back for seeing past all the pretty faces.
As I perused profiles on Match I started finding "flaws" in everyone. Too tall, too short, too nerdy, too dumb, not cute, too cute, he smiles weird, he's a Republican, he's a vegetarian, too skinny, too fat, he does (_____) for a living. I realized if I was still playing Find the Fatal Flaw I probably wasn't in the right place to be dating. So I canceled my subscription.
And here I am, one year later. I've been on a couple of dates and realize that there are some great guys out there, but usually I just want to make them my friends. Friends tell me I'm too picky, but I think I deserve to be. And from this picky-ness the theory of the Unicorn was born. I am a tomboy at heart, I like to get dirty, watch sports, eat steak and drink beer. My personality can be loud and demanding, at times. Because of this I am often attracted to "jocks". They understand wanting to go play catch/tennis. They get that I thrive on competition and like to "sweat out" my issues. They understand the loved up feeling I get about March Madness and checking my bracket every night. They get that Sports Illustrated will be read cover to cover and you don't interrupt me during a playoff game. That being said, I am also a girly-girl who refuses to wear flats on a date and hot pink is still my favorite color. I balk every month at having to pay rent, but will drop a wad of cash for a new dress without batting an eye. I also am a sucker for a good "nerd". Those guys who understand the importance of literature and grammar. They wouldn't be caught dead texting me "Sweat dreams" (that's you, Mr. Construction guy). When I propose a trip to a museum or the Boeing factory they don't roll their eyes. They enjoy movies with subtitles and are willing to try new foods. We can have a conversation with differing views and come away having learned something new. We can play history hop-scotch as we discuss the ramifications and historical context of world events. My conundrum is that I am attracted to jocks but crave the intellect of a nerd. To find all of these things would be rare, much like finding a unicorn. So, my quest for a unicorn continues.
I haven't seriously dated in the last three years. THREE YEARS! I've gone on the occasional date and the even more rare second date, but nothing serious. Initially, after my last relationship I had decided to take a year off and "date myself". I would do all the things I wanted, and I gave myself permission to be as selfish as possible.There was no set end date and no real reason why I decided to make it a year. So a year passed. And in that year I really started to get to know myself. To consciously choose to do things by myself, for myself. I really honed in on the things I loved and that which was quintessentially ME. In that year I made more friends and my social circle expanded. I put all of those friendships before any relationships. With so much love from my friends I was happy being single. I didn't need a boyfriend when I had a gaggle of best friends who loved me. And that year quickly melted into two years.
Last January was a turning point. Suddenly, my friends were all pairing up. Two best friends became engaged and everyone else spontaneously found a significant other. It was like musical chairs, but the music stopped playing for me. Game night became awkward when the couples had their "inside" jokes and I was left with no partner. I was no longer included on movie night and I became appalled by my friends' need to constantly touch or kiss each other as I attempted to have a conversation. Everyone was twitterpated except me.
I resolved to remedy the situation by finding a boyfriend. Easier said than done. After being set up on a series of horrible dates (a guy who may have been gay, the construction worker who was dumb as nails and the breathy, nerdy guy from church), I decided to take matters into my own hands. On-line dating. Match.com to be exact.
I paid for a month's subscription and waited for the inevitable onslaught of potential suitors. And it came. The number of cheesy lines and "winks" was initially an ego boost. But as I looked deeper at these guys I realized the flaw of on-line dating: too much information can be a bad thing.
Back when I lived in LA and did the whole party scene my friends and I came up with a game called "Find the Fatal Flaw". It was our way of guaranteeing that our hearts wouldn't be broken like they had in the past. Self-preservation, if you will. Everyone was responsible for sizing up any guys the others were interested in. My weakness has always been tall, blond boys. And while I became weak in the knees my friends would quickly point out the cell phone strapped to his belt (how did I not see it?) or the gum he was chewing (a clear sign of halitosis). Find the Fatal Flaw guaranteed that no one was good enough for us. We would give out wrong numbers, point and laugh and pat ourselves on the back for seeing past all the pretty faces.
As I perused profiles on Match I started finding "flaws" in everyone. Too tall, too short, too nerdy, too dumb, not cute, too cute, he smiles weird, he's a Republican, he's a vegetarian, too skinny, too fat, he does (_____) for a living. I realized if I was still playing Find the Fatal Flaw I probably wasn't in the right place to be dating. So I canceled my subscription.
And here I am, one year later. I've been on a couple of dates and realize that there are some great guys out there, but usually I just want to make them my friends. Friends tell me I'm too picky, but I think I deserve to be. And from this picky-ness the theory of the Unicorn was born. I am a tomboy at heart, I like to get dirty, watch sports, eat steak and drink beer. My personality can be loud and demanding, at times. Because of this I am often attracted to "jocks". They understand wanting to go play catch/tennis. They get that I thrive on competition and like to "sweat out" my issues. They understand the loved up feeling I get about March Madness and checking my bracket every night. They get that Sports Illustrated will be read cover to cover and you don't interrupt me during a playoff game. That being said, I am also a girly-girl who refuses to wear flats on a date and hot pink is still my favorite color. I balk every month at having to pay rent, but will drop a wad of cash for a new dress without batting an eye. I also am a sucker for a good "nerd". Those guys who understand the importance of literature and grammar. They wouldn't be caught dead texting me "Sweat dreams" (that's you, Mr. Construction guy). When I propose a trip to a museum or the Boeing factory they don't roll their eyes. They enjoy movies with subtitles and are willing to try new foods. We can have a conversation with differing views and come away having learned something new. We can play history hop-scotch as we discuss the ramifications and historical context of world events. My conundrum is that I am attracted to jocks but crave the intellect of a nerd. To find all of these things would be rare, much like finding a unicorn. So, my quest for a unicorn continues.
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