Valentines, Shmalentines

Valentines Day… you either love it or hate it.

This year is my year to hate it.

Growing up, Valentines Day had nothing to do with romance.  It meant chocolate from my parents and fun little V-Day cards from my classmates.  It meant pink and red construction paper and Little Debbie Valentines cakes.  It was sweet, and it was fun.

Once you surpass the age of 15, Valentines Day becomes less about candy and more about love and crushes from the opposite sex.  It’s either a success, or a day to wear black and announce that “Love sucks.”

My past three Valentines Days were spent with my ex-boyfriend with roses, expensive dinners and lovin’ for dessert.  I was one of the lucky few who got to enjoy Valentines Day because I had somebody to share it with.  Forget the fact that we fought every other day of the year and were completely wrong for each other; for that one day we had each other to celebrate, a day to remember the reasons why we loved each other.

Well my life has changed drastically since last Valentines Day, and this year he will be sharing our former day of celebration with someone else.  He will shower her with roses and a nice dinner.  I will take comfort in knowing that these presents come but one day a year and that she is now the one dealing with the cheapskate, unreliable boyfriend.  But that doesn’t change the fact that this Valentines Day, I will be alone.

The rest of the world will wine and dine at their favorite restaurants and dive into bed the minute they get home.  I will sit on the couch by myself and stuff my stomach to fill the void while all of my best friends snuggle with their significant others and receive sappy cards from the ones they love.

It’s just another day, I tell myself and all of the other single females out there dreading the forthcoming holiday of gloom.  Celebrate yourself, because that’s one of the most significant relationships you will ever have.  Send cards to your parents and your siblings and your grandparents.  Ignore the love section in Hallmark and change the channel when the Valentines jewelry store commercials come on TV.  Who knows?  Maybe it will be the last Valentines Day we spend alone for the rest of our lives.  Anything can happen in a year.

A Lonely Kind of Heart

It’s hard to be single when all of your friends have boyfriends.  It’s hard to be single after having somebody by your side for three years.  It’s hard to be single when you live alone and don’t have roommates around to keep you company.  Most of all, it’s hard to be single when you’re scared that you’re never going to find anybody else that you love quite the same way that you loved someone else before.

I keep telling myself that this is the time to enjoy being single, that hopefully the next guy I meet will be the one that I spend the rest of my life with and when that time comes, my days of only worrying about myself will be over forever.  I tell myself to concentrate on me, enjoy the days of taking care of myself and myself only, especially after three long and trying years of worrying about my ex-boyfriend constantly.  I tell myself that this is the time you deserve to concentrate on you.

So why do I feel lonely when I come home at night and there’s nobody there anymore to kiss me hello?  Why do my weekends feel worthless having nobody to share them with?  Why do I become depressed when I fall into bed at the end of the day and there’s nobody there to kiss me goodnight?

I miss the comfort.  I miss the excitement.  I miss having someone to look forward to seeing, having someone to miss.  I miss the snugness of cuddling up with a warm, familiar body.  I miss cooking dinner together at night, and having someone always by my side when we’re out with friends at the bar to grab my hand and reassure me that he is there.  I miss the laughs, and the comfort of being 100% myself around somebody with no worries that they will love me any less.  I miss the phone calls and text messages, I miss the comfort of knowing somebody like the back of my hand and being able to predict what they are going to say or do next.  I miss the passion and the emotions and the fighting and the tears and the making up and the  l o v i n g  e a c h o t h e r.

I’ve had it before.  I’ll have it again.  But I worry that it won’t be the same, that the next guy will always be in comparison of my ex-boyfriend, who as much as I wish I could say I’m 100% over, I’m not.  He wasn’t right for me in so many ways, but I can’t help but remember all the ways that he was.  I’m moving on, I’m thinking realistically, I know we were not meant to be, but I miss him sometimes.  I do.  And while I know that it’s naive and immature for me to think this, I worry that I’m never going to find anybody else that will make me feel the way that he did. 

I try so hard to be strong, to put on a brave face.  Inside, I’m lonely.  And I’m scared.

Never Too Old for Butterflies

“But that’s just it, the butterflies never seem to accompany the right people. All the nice guys who are right for you, they never make your stomach go flip flop.” -Dawson’s Creek

Okay, I know I’m 23 years old and quoting Dawson’s Creek, but it doesn’t get more true than that.  I’ve been on a couple dates in the past couple months, and while the guys were nice enough, they just didn’t do it for me.  They did everything right.  They were smart, friendly, seemed into me.  But when I kissed them, I felt nothing.  I was bored and I found myself wondering what I was missing on TV.  I didn’t want to rip their clothes off, and the feelings going on in my stomach felt nothin’ like butterflies.

Example #1:  Let’s call him Scott.  He was totally into me, he was older, had a great job, made good money, cute enough, drove a big truck.  He said all the right things.  He made me laugh.  He even called when he said he would.  So how come when I kissed him, I felt nothing except for the desire to push him away?

Just because a guy is right on paper, doesn’t mean that you will have the right chemistry.  Two people have to click.  There has to be that inexplicable spark, no matter how wonderful the guy may seem.

When I couldn’t make myself like this guy, I turned to my sister, three years older than me, for advice.  I asked her why I wasn’t feeling butterflies, why I wasn’t excited when he called.

“Maybe you’re too old for butterflies,” she told me.

Really?  I don’t think anybody should ever be too old for butterflies.  It’s the best part of a relationship, when everything is brand new and exciting, when you still won’t let him see you without makeup and your stomach flip flops when you see his name on your caller ID.  My hope for the world is that 40-something divorcees still feel butterflies with their first new relationship after a 20 year marriage.  If there’s no butterflies, what’s the point?  I thought that was the point.  I refuse to believe that butterflies are something we outgrow.

So in the meantime, while I’m waiting to find that pack of butterflies that seems to have flown far, far away, I will maintain hope.  He’s out there somewhere, and he’s waiting to give me butterflies too.  I will continue to date, learning more from each new man I meet what it is that will make me go weak in the knees.  I’ll know it when I find it.  Trust me.

Race to the Altar

Sooooo I found out yesterday afternoon that one of my best friends from college got engaged on Saturday.  I realize that this should make me feel excited and happy for my friend, but all I am getting out of this news is feeling a little strange and weird about it. 

I’m 23 years old and this is my very first friend to become engaged.  Do you know what this means?  This means that the string of weddings throughout my 20-something years has officially begun.  The knowledge that all of my friends are in the same boat as me, in no rush to the altar, has officially disappeared.  The clock is ticking.  Who wants to be the last friend to make it down the aisle?  Isn’t that some sort of defeat, a sad sort of “I finished last”?

Several months back, I could have told you that out of all of my friends, I was one of the closest ones to the top in the wedding race.  I had a steady boyfriend of three years, one I seriously thought I was going to marry.  I knew we wouldn’t be engaged anytime soon, but I thought that I definitely had one up on most of my other friends, most of whom were casually dating and in no rush to grow up and get married. 

And then we broke up.  I was back to square one.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel as if this is truly a race to the altar and that it’s a life or death situation.  Truth be told, I didn’t feel much of an urgency until I heard the news yesterday afternoon.  23 is still fairly young, and once you’re married, the ring is on, your life is set and that’s the end of your single 20s.  I’m not ready to give this life up tomorrow, but I would at least like to think that I’m on the right path.  And I promise you, I’m not.  I’ve been newly single for three months, I’ve gone out on a few dates, and I’ve enjoyed the casualness of all of it, especially after being in such a serious relationship for three years.  But there’s something to be said for feeling a sense of security and protection.  I miss that feeling.

How can one single friend becoming engaged completely change my outlook on my ticking wedding clock?  All of a sudden, I want to go wedding dress shopping and pick out cakes and bridesmaid dresses and flower arrangements and photographers and bands.  It all sounds so exciting!  But am I truly ready for all of that or do I just feel left out and slightly jealous? 

Your 20s are a funny age.  Everything is so unpredictable and scary and changing and new and completely uncertain.  Maybe I should just focus on that right now.  After all, you’re only 23 and uncertain once.  Maybe that’s the exciting part.

Proceed with Caution

I see it all of the time.  The rather sane but unsure woman who is completely and utterly hung up over the opposite sex.  It’s a tale as old as time, a game of cat and mouse, but more popularly known as the infamous chase.

Who hasn’t been the girl who sits by her phone thinking that the longer she concentrates, the more likely it will ring?  In her mind, there’s still a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe she is sending some sort of E.S.P. wavelength to the person on the other end of the line.  Who hasn’t been the girl who puts their phone on silent because in some twisted, warped reality, maybe she will not have to think about him?  Left your phone at the house by accident?  Don’t lie to yourself, honey.  You left that phone sitting right on your bed and hopped in your car to take a drive just so were not tempted to pick up and call him because you couldn’t wait around any longer.  So don’t. Sounds simple, right?  We sit on our couches in our little apartments sipping wine, stuffing our faces with indulgent Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, reading He’s Just Not That Into You over and over again to the point of no return.  Hell, if we could, we’d seek a witch doctor, a relationship guru or a hypnotist – in a desperate attempt to find any remedy to miraculously snap us out of our sick obsession.  If it were only that easy.

We allow our girl friends to console us when we’re down and out.  “It’s okay, maybe he’s just busy.”  “Maybe he forgot to call.”  “Maybe he lost his cell phone, lost your number, he went on a cruise to the Bahamas and doesn’t have a calling card, his blackberry fell out of his pocket and he flushed it down the toilet by accident.”  The possibilities are endless.  The excuses are interminable.  The fact of the matter is, we tell ourselves what we want to hear.  We’ve got to stop, and it’s got to start somewhere.

We all want to be the girl who lights up the world of a guy.  We are believers in love and fate.  We wear our heart on our sleeve and act invulnerable.  We think that we can fix the broken, tame the wild bull, train him and make him a better man.  We love a challenge.  We give it our all and we do it with the utmost passion.  It’s not easy being super woman and conquering this world in heels, it’s just not.  When we’re interested in someone, we pursue.  He accepts or he resists, and more times than not, he runs in the opposite direction.  As women, we get so emotionally invested in just a short amount of time.  We stay optimistic and only wish for the best, just to have our hearts thoroughly shattered.  Our walls grow taller and more dense over time, simply to protect ourselves from the unseen pain that may occur in our future.  So why do we constantly put ourselves through the painstaking truth that we are ultimately going to get burned again?  Answer: We are women, and we believe in happily ever after.

But if we’re going to deal with the harsh reality of love, let’s get one thing straight.  Don’t stress over the little things.  Again, very difficult to fully comprehend, but break it down.  Why worry about what he’s doing?  Why he’s not calling you?  Obviously you are not of much importance to him if quite frankly, he doesn’t give a damn.  Men are really this simple.  I was also clueless about this cold hard truth until I surrounded myself with guy friends.  When they’re not into a girl, they’re really not into a girl.  If they’re not taking time out of their day to speak to you, call you, text you, it’s really because they do not want to.  Is there another girl in the picture?  There very well could be.  Or maybe, he’s just not into you the way you had anticipated.  As women, we must stand strong together and not let men operate our thoughts and emotions.  Instead of persevering the one we cannot have, why not give someone else a fighting chance?  Perhaps the guy you’ve blown off here and there because he didn’t spark your interest immediately?  When you’re at a bar, instead of checking out the hottie with the overpowering ego that illuminates the entire room, why not flirt with the subtle man who does not covet the spotlight?

Case in point, we are subconsciously doing to others what we despise having done to us.  Giving someone attention that clearly does not deserve it, chasing them and in turn, hurting someone who desired us.  It’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s reality.  Forget about the coward who does not make an effort and let everything else fall into place.  Remember, you are a woman, you are beautiful and you have as much power as you allow yourself to have. Keep your head high, your heart open and proceed with caution.

the ability to surprise yourself

“It’s a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself. Makes you wonder what else you can do you’ve forgotten about.” – American Beauty

For three years, I dated who I thought was the love of my life. He was my first love, and I thought he would be my last. I loved blindly, recklessly, and extremely naively.

When I say blindly, I mean so blindly that I must have somehow confused the flashing warning lights in front of me for twinkling love stars. The signs were all there. For years I waited on him to change and get his life together, to grow into a man. I waited so long that along the way I somehow forgot what I deserved.

I ignored the knock down, drag out fights, the demeaning way he talked to me, the anxiety he caused on my heart. I turned the other cheek and chose to overlook the fights in favor of the good moments, the moments he made me feel loved. I honestly believed that our passionate fights stemmed from our passionate love. I told myself that the good would outweigh the bad, and we could find a way to make it work.

Granted, I wasn’t completely ignorant, and there were many times I questioned our relationship. But I was in so far and so deep that I felt like my heart would literally deflate if I ever lost him. I thought my world would come crashing down and my soul would crumble into pieces. Needless to say, I never found the strength within myself to let him go.

He did it for me.

I’ll never forget the phone call where it all ended. I wasn’t stunned. I wasn’t upset. I didn’t even cry (and I’m a crier). I hung up the phone and waited for it to hit.

And waited.

And waited.

The next day, I was still waiting.

Don’t get me wrong, it did hit eventually. How can it not hit when all of a sudden your best friend in the whole wide world and who you thought to be your future husband is now gone forever? But it never hit me nearly as strong as I thought it would.

I was so fed up and worn down, and tired of fighting for us for so long, that when the breakup finally happened, it came almost as a relief. It was like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I no longer had to worry how we were going to make it work, or if it was going to work. All of a sudden, I had the answer I had been looking for for three whole years. It wasn’t going to work, and it was time to move on.

Sure, I’ve had my moments where I will break down crying, and miss the comfort and constant companionship of our relationship. But it’s been about three months now since the breakup, and for the most part, I feel free. For the first time in three years, I feel like a little girl again, wondering who I will marry when I grow up. And when I do finally meet him, I will be a much stronger person than I was when I met my ex-boyfriend. I will know what I want and don’t want in a relationship. I will also have a new-found sense of self and independence.

I have shocked myself in these past three months, and it really is quite fun and empowering to surprise yourself in such a huge way. There was a whole world of strength inside of me that I never knew existed. No woman should feel as if they will break down and fall apart if they lose the man they are with. I don’t think I will ever have that feeling again, no matter how wonderful and right for me that my future husband is. I will know that I will always be strong enough to rebuild myself, on my own. And I think that’s something to be proud of.