to all the men i've loved before

you beat me down with your bitter lies, your rationalizations of what was, the excuses for your behavior. i never asked for niceties, just for you to be honest. you couldn't even be honest with yourself. my guilt has run out, the reasons why i stayed, knowing that you could never be what i needed you to be. and perhaps i was different then, less of a clue of who i was than where i was going. with age i see our faults, and looking back doesn't hurt as much as it used to. my sadness comes from making the same mistakes that i've made with you, learning is always such a battle. i've loved you and hated you, the line sometimes indistinguishable. it's time to let go of you, the memories (of which i tend to only remember the happy ones), the pain. life goes on, mine without you. i've found peace in that, and no longer fear being alone. i'm thanking you for everything you taught me, the good times that we shared, and the pain we caused each other. we would not be who we are now without the past. all lines will cross again, and i wonder if when that happens, will we recognize who we were once in who we will be then?

Christmas Cheer

Last night my BFF and I took her kids to see the Christmas lights in Sleepy Hollow to continue a tradition passed along from our own respective childhoods. It's still as amazing now as it was then. Funny how every year, once I see the elephant made of lights sitting on the tree swing, I am catapulted back to my youth. It's at that moment that the Christmas spirit finally arrives for me. Until seeing the elephant last night, the only Christmasy thing that I felt was the dent in my bank account. But with the kids in the car, with their wide eyes open trying to take everything in, I could remember how I felt when my parents took me. Each house competing so hard to be different and more spectacular than the next house. Each year more extravagant than the next. 3 streets and 6 blocks of Christmas light extravaganza. Southern California Edison must be having a field day with the supply and demand of electricity in this neighborhood.
With both kids in the back, and our mugs of hot cocoa in our hands (lap if you are me, since I drove), and the station set to Christmas carols, the season truly had begun. Ryan pointed out every toy soldier that he could see, and Alyssa fell in love with the candy canes. There was Sponge Bob and the characters from the cartoon dressed up in Christmas regalia, and there was Jack Skeleton from The Nightmare Before Christmas. There were polar bears ice skating, and an electronic dancing Santa that was larger than life. There was reindeer pulling a sleigh, and lollipops lighting pathways. I think that magic only happens when you aren't looking for it. And though I wasn't looking for magic last night, I found it in the eyes of two kids who still believe in Santa Clause.

Christmas Tidings

Yesterday I started on my Christmas card list. Who do I send cards to? Who do I not? What criteria defines a Christmas card receiver? I only came up with 6 households. Being single during Christmas shortens my list. I used to send cards to his parents and aunt, but those days are over. Christmas cards make me sad. I start thinking of all the cards my parents receive from people I have never met that were at one time close friends with them. They’d send pictures of the kids or whole family. Now they send pictures of their kids and grandkids. Time passes. It always amazed me that my parents once knew that many people. How come they never came around? How come they never called? As though being a grown up and having kids cut you off from the world. That you would have to give it up, you can’t have both.

Now as I compile my list, I call my friends and let them know that I’m sending this card. That I don’t want these cards to be the only definition of our friendship. I want them to come to dinner, for our kids (someday) to play with one another. I don’t want just the one card a year with the pictures of kids I’ve never met, and 365 days crammed into one or two paragraphs to keep me until the next Christmas. Why should friendships be limited to that? I’ve never understood. Hopefully I never do.

bar·ri·er -A structure, such as a fence, built to bar passage.

Today, after waking up at the ridiculously late hour of 12:30 in the afternoon (note: this was after being up until 5am noodling on the couch with the NS) I looked around my room, which is a complete mess, and pondered what to do with the few remaining hours of daylight. Finally putting away my clean laundry was definitely out. I have let my laundry sit, wrinkled and unfolded in my laundry baskets for a week. One more day won't hurt. I thought about going to the store to start my search for the perfect new mattress. I have recently decided that upgrading from a full to a queen is a wonderful way to blow my annual bonus. So I must visit the local mattress store and bounce around on a few to see which one I want to take home. But that sounded like too much of an adventure.

I thought about cleaning out my closet and taking a few things to Goodwill, but to do that would require two things a) putting my clean laundry away since it's all blocking my closet door, and then b) gutting my closet in order to unearth anything at all. The name of the game lately has been ' too lazy to get anything of any value done...at all'. So cleaning closet was now out. Instead, I waffled in the comfort of my bed, with my 3 blankets on top to keep the chill off. After an hour of staring at the ceiling and recapping the previous evening with the NS, I mooched over to the computer where I thought I'd write a paragraph or two. Checked my myspace (a crazy addiction, that like cigarettes must be weaned from slowly), checked out some blogs that I've gotten into recently, and finally made my way to my own blog where I sat and came up with nothing.

I had an idea that came to me at the bar last night as I fended off the usual one liners. About how guys will come up with the things to say that will induce girls to go home with them. Commonaly referred to as 'players', these guys are usually slick, convincing, and you don't know that you've been 'played' until it's over. However, I figured that I would ask a few of my friendboys for some helpful hints on how to tell the BS from sincerity. Of course all 3 that I asked said they've never used lines. I call shenanigans on that. Considering I dated 2 of the 3, I know better. But I didn't press too much. I figured they knew I'd use it against them. Which I would, when necessary, without regret.

But I digress. I still had nothing. How do you get writer's block when blogging? Seems daft really. Let's recap here, I have chosen to NOT fold and put away laundry, NOT clean my closet, which would include putting away laundry, NOT go mattress shopping, and was mentally unable to write anything of any worth. The short version, I was depressed. About what? God only knows. I have spent all day with myself and have not figured that out. So I did what anyone in my position would do. I called my best friend, and went to her place to distract her kids so she could get some things done.

Kids are the best. Especially when they are someone else's. I get all the fun stuff, and skipped all the nonsense: the 2am feedings, the colic, potty training, though I did have some hand in that, and all the other stuff that actual parents get to deal with. My BFF's kids are fantastic, most of the time. Today they were monkeys. But they put things in perspective. For 7 hours today, none of my non issue 'problems' mattered. All that mattered was hanging out with them. And I'll figure out what everything else is later.

No more fake I love you's

The most abused words in the English language is "I love you". People either don't say it enough, or don't mean it when they say it. I am guilty on both accounts. I've been nearly dumped before because he didn't know where I stood. Here he'd been saying I love you for months. And I just smiled and kissed him back. It wasn't that I didn't feel the same, but I wasn't really raised to say it. I've always been horrible at expressing how I feel. I don't show anger so much as get moody. Or I'll try and just fix the situation without discussing it. Needless to say, I have a lot of failed relationships under my belt. Sometimes I wonder what the point is in saying anything at all. What happens when, and this has happened often, I finally say it. And life goes on well enough for months. And I may start off meaning what I say, but then I fall out. Or he falls out. It could go on for weeks, months of fake I love you's. The ones where you say it because you're just so used to saying it. It doesn't mean that you mean it anymore. And then you start questioning if you ever really did. Then you get neurotic...What is love? How do you know you are in it? Isn't lust often confused for love? What if it was just that? And on and on and on.

And then, when it's over, and you start dating again you start to wonder if you will care enough about the new someone to ever say it. And then what if you just confuse lust for love again. It's a vicious cycle. So now, you don't trust the NS (new someone) to not hurt you. So when it gets serious and that person starts in on the I love you's, you question the validity of their statement. I realize that by continually questioning everyone's motives, that I'm missing out on the rush of the beginning. And I know that eventually I'll move past it. But for now, the only one truth that I know for sure is that I won't dole out any more fake I love you's. It's not fair to them, and it's not fair to me.

I'm not a phone person. The idea of talking on the phone for extended periods of time annoys me. Not to mention that it completely destroys my cell phone bill. I once had a $900 cell phone bill, and to this day, I have no idea what we talked about. Which tells me we talked about nothing. Frivolous nonsense. Since then, I have hated talking on phones. It's one thing to blabber on with a close girlfriend. Girls always have something to talk about. We can have meaningful conversations about nothing. But with a guy, unless we're coordinating hanging out, there's really no reason to talk at all. Calling 'just to say hi' doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. Especially with the onslaught of text messaging. I swear texting has saved my life. It has completely eliminated having to physically talk to someone. Just think of it. Instead of wasting minutes speaking to someone about nothing, you can just send a nice little one liner. The person on the other end replies. No awkward silences. Just succint messages that cut right to the bone of whatever it is and leave it at that. Trying to call someone when you are in a club or bar is another good crossover to texting. A few pushes of the buttons and they know where you are, where you are standing, who you are with and what you want to do to them later. None of the one finger in the opposite ear, with cell phone pushed so hard against your head that you start thinking that maybe you should get cat scanned the next day for the brain tumor that everyone will someday have from using cell phones. Lovely thing text messaging.

Friendgirls

Why is it that people can never seem to tell me what's really going on? Do they think it will offend my delicate sensiblities? Because news flash, I'm not delicate. No woman worth anything is. Love the facade though don't you?

See, I've noticed this before with men. I know my guys, friends or more than, have friendgirls. I don't expect them to just hang out with the guys. As such, I have friendboys, and I state in the beginning of anything, that I will hang out with my friendboys when I want. No questions asked. I do not hide the fact that I have them, I do not hide the fact that I hang out with them. Some of said friendboys I have dated in the past, so there will always be that slight flirtation. But only in the comfortable, I can say what I want, know that you still sometimes still think about sleeping with me, but you know it's not going anywhere kind of way.

Guys don't play the same angle. Sure, they may state in the beginning of anything that they have "female friends". DUH. Really? But they like to play it off as though they don't see them all that much. And we as the understanding, wonderful gals that we are, will just nod and smile and play along. We know better. We know that everytime you hang out with the boys, it goes something like, "Hey, I'm going out with Mike and Steve tonight, is it cool if we hang out tomorrow?" Easy, straighforward, no problems there. But, when you hang out with other girls, it sounds more like, " Hey, I'm going to hang out with a few friends tonight, can I call you later?" Does anyone see the difference in statements? I do.

For some reason, guys will say their guy friends' names, but won't say their girl friends' names. Now granted, this may be to protect their relationship, be it what it may, from the jealousy that ALL girls are capable of. But, in the long run, we know better, and it eats at us that they cannot be truthful. THE TRUTH HURTS LESS! If she's just a friend, then it should be no big deal. If you feel you have to hide it, then it makes you look guilty. Guilty gets you in trouble. We may not call you on it right away. We may let it stew for awhile, and then, when you least expect it, BAM!!- we'll blindside you with it. You don't want that. That leads to bigger problems. Honesty is always the best policy. If she can't take the fact that you had friends before she existed in your life, your best chance is to cut and run anyway. This is the woman who needs it to be all about her, and if she's uncomfortable with your friends, then she's never going to trust you, and your life will start to suck. Who needs that?

And then on the flip side, if you guys expect us to be okay with hanging out with your friends, then you need to chill when we hang out with ours. Yes, we know that all of our guy friends have at one point or another, drunk or sober, thought about hooking up with us. But unless your girl's an A-Dub (attention whore), we really don't care. We've had crushes on our friends. It usually amounts to nothing, we get over it and move on. Eventually, once we've helped them with every single relationship fiasco, he's not all that appealing to us anymore. But girls being what they are (high maintenance friends), we like to sometimes just hang with the boys. We expect that you will understand that, as you like to hang with your boys too. We appreciate the fact that you care, are worried that someone will try to take advantage, yada yada yada. But being as we've made it this far without you, I think we can handle our own. And seeing you jealous and act stupid about it, does not turn us on. We then look at you like a child that needs to placated, not like the man we thought we were dating. So cool it.

All in all, friendboys and friendgirls, you have them, own up to it. Think long term honesty vs. for the moment keeping the peace, and you'll survive just fine.

I always knew it would end. Even when it was then. Those flings, the ones that last only a few months. I never expected forever. I took from them the bits and pieces of what I think I'm looking for, and if I piece them together I create perfection. Knowing now that there is no such thing, I wonder if going in to get out was the best choice. Do you cut yourself off from something that could be great?

I remember my only 'one night stand'. But is it a one night stand if you've known them for years? After it was over, he asked me "So this means you're my girlfriend now right?" And I looked at him, smiled as I said no, then walked out the door. I haven't talked to him since. At the time, I knew that I was only the second person that he'd ever been with. And I didn't want that responsiblity. I heard about 2 years ago that he was engaged to be married. I am happy for him. He deserved someone who could have stayed and said yes.

I wonder sometimes what would have happened had I stayed in any of the flings. Would I be a different person than I am now? Or would I still have the anger that haunted me for so many years. It's an anger I still don't understand, though it's felt less and less with each failure. Perhaps it's absence is resignation to the fact that this is my life. If I am paving a path to heaven or hell, the staircase is heading south.

When I look back on my relationships, of which there are many and none, I notice that I think about them objectively. As though they are just part of a story that isn't necessarily my own. A movie in my mind maybe. I see the parts where I failed. I see the parts where they failed me. In a way, looking at everything from a third person point of view helps me to learn from the mistakes rather than cry over them. What good is crying anyhow? Tears don't take it back, they don't fix it. And would I want it back anyway is another good question.

I think the part I worry about most, in leaving before it began, is cutting myself off from greatness. And when will I know when it's time to stick?

Death of Communication

Have you ever noticed that when you first start dating someone, you talk. You talk about everything, family, friends, childhood stories....you share anecdotes that you pretend you haven't told anyone before. How you used to sing showtunes with your hairbrush while playing dressup. Or how he would ride his bike off jumps in the street with friends to impress girls. How both of you have a crazy uncle. You both discuss your favorite books, restuarants, movies, places to vacation. You talk about places you would like to vacation. Your philosophies on life. The days are filled with talking. You start thinking that maybe you should change your cell phone provider so that the mobile-to-mobile minutes would save your bank account.

Then, one day, out of the blue....you're 'together'. You start introducing him as your boyfriend. He starts introducing you as his girlfriend. You start hanging out with your other 'couple' friends. And then, right there, out of the blue...you stop talking. The death of communication. Suddenly you are reverting to reading body language. How is he holding your had..is he holding your hand? Is he sitting on the other side of the room with his back slightly turned to you? Or is he cuddled up against you? Does he stare at the TV rather than peek over at you constantly the way he did when everything was new? Do you sleep curled up together in the classic 'spoon', or are you sleeping with your backs to each other with at least 2 feet of space between you...

Suddenly your conversations consist of what you did at work, where you had lunch. What are your plans for the weekend, do they even include him? Sure you do things together. You go out to dinner, and for the first time in 3 months, you are dedicated to the food placed in front of you. You watch a movie, and you are so involved, you didn't notice that he passed out. The next morning, you both eat breakfast, his in front of the TV while watching the game. Yours in the kitchen as you figure out what you'll do with your day.

How do people get past this demise in communication? Why is it that the transition makes people stop talking? Is it just me? Am I alone in this? Is there some version of communication CPR that I don't know about?

Words Don't Come

"Slowly the pen touches paper in the guidance of the words that you write. Memories roll in, of the things you once did and who you had shared them with. Is somebody thinking of you? Did I bother telling you this, with the words that cross teeth and jump lips? A poor choice of words, in wanting to tell you anything. But words don't come with ease. They're forever my hurt. Would it really matter, if you were to count the days left with your hands? Your focus secure and the loves you left, well, smiles staged in photographs here until...You, left the light on. There's a chance I might have tripped girl. You were there to hold on. Ignoring the words of your obnoxious little brother; kill or be killed spilled the words from your mother. I'll lay awake for a while. I'll leave the light on a while. But you couldn't last a lifetime. Caught between here and the days of it; carving her name across your arm with every wish it's hit or miss... her. I told you so. I measured distance in lines departing the rest of my life. But you, you had better things to do Liar. If you get put to sleep, like an old dog, you're better off. I've been cautious with the words I extend. Allow this year before the world starts to end. Your father's dead. He passed in his sleep, and I woke to the sounds of her crying. Pray for us all."- The Light & The Glass-Coheed & Cambria

If I only had one song to describe me, this would be it.

Represent!

Dating. What a farce. It's a constant game of 'meet my representative'. Both sides play. In the beginning, everyone is on their best behavior. "Here, these are all the great things about me, notice that I have a 401k, stocks, a nice car, and I open the car door for you." What the representative does not tell you is that he has clothes all over his bedroom floor, that he hasn't cleaned his bathroom in two years, that the only things in his refridgerator are ketchup, mustard and beer from the prior weekend, and that he snores loudly, and given the opportunity, right in your ear. Her representative says "Look, I am well built, will look good on your arm, and I'm not crazy". In actuality, she has cellulite on her ass and thighs, looks haggard in the morning just like everyone else, farts in her sleep and given the right motivation, is as psychotic as any female is capable of being. When do the representatives get out of the way to make room for the reality of people? Why do we have these fronts to begin with? Isn't it better to know up front what you are getting yourself into? Why waste perfectly good evenings pretending to be something you are not, when you can be who you are, take it or leave it, let's have a good time? How can you decide you 'like' a person when you don't know all the facets of them to begin with? Eventually all of you comes out into the open, and it's almost like you have to start dating all over again. "Oh, this is who you are? Hello, my name is ____" Introduce the real you, bring in the flatulance, the snoring, the inability to clean a dish. All of that. Wouldn't it just be easier to have that out in the open? "Woo hoo! Here I am! Can you deal with this?" Or is it that we know we are crap to begin with, so maybe if we can slowly ease the other person into all our faults, it won't be as noticeable, almost like it was always there. It's an unfair reality of the dating world. Let's face it. You won't 'know' the other person until at least the 5th date, and in today's society, you've already moved on. Relationship ADD. On to the next representative.