(Not) Thinking of You

You told me we’re not doing this anymore and so, I’m not thinking about you.

I’m not thinking about the first time we met in Grand Central Station and how your eyes lit up like a little kid on Christmas. I’m not thinking about the way you pressed me up against a window in a Manhattan hotel room and kissed me for the first time. How the sparks between us were so intense they could have kept Times Square lit for a year. I’m certainly not thinking about how intensely in sync we are in bed together or how we came together almost every single time.

Another thing I’m not thinking about is how I met you in Cincinnati for your 30^th birthday. How we stuck our heads in those silly cutouts at that festival or how I laid my head on your shoulder while we watched them feed otters at the aquarium. I’m not thinking about how you held me close and told me you never wanted me to leave Ohio. Or how that café we had dinner at was playing The Smiths. I’m not thinking about how you held me in the pool as I wrapped my legs around your waist and my arms around your neck and how you kissed me and I felt like this was the first time in a long time that I knew I loved someone again.

I’m not thinking about seeing your silhouette looking down at me from the waiting room of a Japanese train station as I got off a 9 hour train ride to see you. Or how our glasses banged together like two teenagers when we finally got up the nerve to just thrust our mouths at one another after months of being apart, and how we tossed them off comedically and continued making out. I’m absolutely not thinking about how you woke up the next morning and the first thing you did was put your arms around me from behind and kiss my shoulder before you went to work.

I’m also definitely not thinking about how, when I was lying in my underwear on a bed in a hotel in Houston, you emerged from the bathroom, calmly walked past me, ran your fingers up my torso, went to the door to put on the “Do Not Disturb” sign and proceeded to ravage me sweetly. Or how you adjusted the flower in my hair with the utmost care so that you could see it head on. How at midnight on New Year’s you said, “Well, I guess we’re supposed to kiss now”, pulled me to your waist, parted your lips and placed them softly against mine. I’m not thinking about how when I said I’d miss you, you replied “I never miss you; I have good aim.”

I’m not thinking about the hours we spent talking on the phone or the IMs or the webcam chats or the sexting or the emails we’d send each other at work. About all the smiles and laughs and hugs and forehead kisses and handholds. Or the hours I spent crying over you and missing you from 9000 miles away. Or about the phone call you made from the airport in Minnesota where you told me you were no good for me, that I was too smart, that I should find someone better.

I’m not thinking about any of those things at all.

Because we’re not doing this anymore.

The One

Everyone around you is coupled up and you feel like you’re the only one left standing. They are cohabitating and getting engaged and getting married and you’re buying frozen dinners for one at the grocery store. You contemplate if you’ll ever find “the one”, that person who makes everything in the world make sense. Who gets your obscure jokes and likes that worn out grey band t-shirt you wear to bed sometimes. Who doesn’t mind sitting in the aisle seat all the time and who lets you eat the last donut. You wonder if maybe that person has been in your life all along and you’ve just accidentally passed them over, so you run through your mental catalog of all the people from your past who could possibly be “the one”. 

The boy who you had a torrid and short-lived love affair with; who came to visit at your dorm while surviving a 9 hour trip on the Chinatown bus during a snowstorm. Who stayed on the phone with you late at night while you read poetry to him and he told you how much your prose turned him on. How you took his virginity late one night in his room at his mother’s house on Staten Island. How he held you in the living room after watching Menace to Society, and said I love you in the lights of the Christmas tree. And then how he broke your heart and said it was all a lie; that you didn’t really love him, that he was a tortured soul. And yet, you still held this connection, this bond, on and off again for so many years, finally reuniting recently during Thanksgiving. Older, wiser, a little worn for haul – but he had sent you a text reminding you that you’d promised to marry him when you turned 30. You lol’d and wrote back saying, hold on, I’m not quite there yet.

A boy you met through an Internet dating site that you went on a few mediocre dates with and when he kissed you, it felt like kissing your brother. It was underwhelming and there was never any chemistry, but you still hung out and you still slept in his bed, but you never let him see you naked. And both of you would text each other to hang out every few months; you’d wonder if things would change next time you saw him, but it was always a well-worn friendship and never anything more. 

And then there’s the one that you thought was “the one”. Who was quick witted with even more obscure jokes and who never let you wear that grey band t-shirt to bed because you were too busy making love and falling asleep naked spooning each other. Who showed you the best and worst of yourself back to you like a mirror and kept urging you to grow into the person you are one day going to be. Who started making everything make sense in your life until the day you realized that you were never doing the same things in return for him. The one who told you that he couldn’t love you because love needs to be nourished and fed, even though he was the one nourishing and feeding your love of him for three years. 

None of these guys are “the one”. 

Maybe you’ve met “the one” already and maybe you haven’t. Maybe “the one” doesn’t exist at all. And so what? Who cares? For now, just be the only one you need.

Crossroads

I don't even know what I'm doing with my life. I don't know what I want to do. I'm afraid that I'm doing it all wrong. That everything I do is terrible and I'm going to wind up miserable and shitty and pissed off because I'm not good at anything. I got this internship to write for a food blog-paper thing, and I thought I was a good writer but apparently I'm bad at this or just don't know what to do with vague criticism and no direction (this is why I was not a journalism major).

And I hate being here & hate my job, but I have the potential to move to NY and do a higher level of my job and possibly either hate it more or hate it slightly less since I'd be living in a city that I love and making more money to dull the pain.

But I've also possibly got the opportunity to take a similar job for less then I make now (possibly a lot less) in Singapore. Which would be a great and fun experience and when would I ever get to do that again - provided I get this job and pull enough money out of my ass to move to and live in Singapore?

Singapore would be fun & I could travel and have all kinds of experiences and see the world and do things I never imagined and then maybe write about it - or at the very least start a blog about it. And it could open up the door to so many different opportunities & possibilities in the future.

While NY is my eventual "end game" plan, and it's sitting within reach now, do I want to subject myself to the same bullshit, different geography? Or do I take major risk and move halfway around the world with barely any money into something that I might even like or be able to afford to do?

At least the trying to live in Japan thing offered some sense of security, some sense of camaraderie with other people on similar positions; but I don't know anyone in Singapore.

I just don't want to sit around and look back on this whole scenario and wonder if I made a mistake like I already do when I think about moving to Philadelphia. And I don't want to think I missed a chance to do something amazing because I was held back by fear or money. I also don't want money & location to be my motivating factor behind my decision.

...so what do I do? What should I do?

Maybe I should just turn them both down and keep waiting for something better to come along. Maybe just because this is here doesn't mean it's right.

Passing thoughts

Staring at a blank screen, cursor flashing, and my mind is just as blank. I’m not where I want to be. Emotionally, physically, career-wise; I just feel lost and disappointed in myself. Like, you could be better than this, you know? You could be doing so much more than this, be more, write more, and feel more. Everything always just starts to feel forced: the smiles, the writing, the laughter.

I want to like him and then I second guess myself. Am I doing that thing that I do again? The over-analyzing the other person because I’m holding them up to that standard, comparing them to him up there on the pedestal? You can’t do that – I tell myself – they’re not the same; they’ll never be the same. So what if he doesn’t make you laugh? So what if you don’t have butterflies in your stomach when you’re kissing? So what? You’re still having a good time, so – what?

Everyone here makes me feel insecure. Everyone is a better writer than me, established better in their careers, has more connections, more notches on their resume, bylines to show for it. I’m a fucking great writer, aren’t I? Why can’t I do that shit? Why can’t anyone seem to see how great I am? Everyone here is more athletic than me, going to the gym every day, running marathons, being active. Why am I just so lazy about it all? Where is the fire I can light under my ass to get me to really want to get out there and bust my ass for it? I feel like everyone my age it doing more than I am and I can’t just seem to get it together.

I keep telling myself I’ll try more, harder, to be better. But then I just get to a screen and everything goes blank. I don’t want to do anything about it. I am stagnant.

I know I can, I know I can, I know I can. But I can’t.

I’m preoccupied at the thought of the future, of not wanting to be here, of him. 

Emmett. 

Of wanting to be with him; like he is the key to make the rest of these pieces fall into place. If he were with me, I would be happy. And then we could go somewhere and live together and be happy together. He would inspire me and motivate me and encourage me. Because he gets me – he gets what I’m about and what I do and what I want to do, where I want to be – because we’re so much the same.

I read through his blog the other day and cried. The way he writes makes me so envious, it’s so beautiful and poetic. His entries are sporadic just like mine. Sometimes they are epic novels and sometimes they are short stories. Sometimes they make a difference and sometimes they are just random thoughts. I want to write my story with him, write the story of our future together.

I hate everything else I have to say. It all seems so trivial. The world is so much bigger than we all are and why make a mountain out of our anthills of problems?

I hate my novel because I hate that it feels phony; I can’t convey all these thoughts of loss of a loved one since I’ve never really lost someone I loved. I based the idea on my loss of him but he never really went away, and he was never really mine to begin with. That’s why it’s so terrible. That’s why I have an ending that was just a cheater’s way out since I couldn’t figure out how to end it since things were never ended. It doesn’t even make any sense and it’s just cheap filler. It’s like when you eat something that makes you feel terrible and bloated right after but then you’re starving again a few hours later. Or if you ate something expensive or something that you hoped would taste great but was bland and flavorless, and you felt guilty about it, about how you were so excited for it and then hated it but you still had to pretend to like it anyway.

To be honest - I’m worried that’s how our relationship would be. Bland and flavorless, even though we hoped it would be mind-blowing.

I'm Not Sorry

You know what? I take it all back. I'm not sorry.

I have no remorse. I'm a big girl now and I'll do whatever the fuck I want.

All my life I have been mousy, meek, passive, pushed around, used, taken advantage of. I let people use their leverage against me to guilt me, make me pity them, make me feel sorry for the bullshit they have done to me, make me feel like I don't have the right to just walk away, like I have to give a shit about you when you couldn't give two shits about me. I let those thoughts consume me, eat away at me, hold me down with their emotional baggage while I tried to find a way to apologize and make things right, to life these weights off my chest when I was never the one who put them there; I was trying to apologize for things that weren't my fault.

I no longer want to feel jailed by my actions or guilted by the thought of the feelings of the others that I have hurt. I'm getting too old for that. 

I am not that girl anymore.

And if you don't like it, get the fuck over it.

/I'm done.

Doing it Wrong

As I sit around and look at all the people around me, I can't help but feel like I'm doing this whole  life thing wrong. Everyone is in relationships (happy or unhappy relationships - regardless, they have someone special in the life), moving in together, getting married, having babies. People are in their careers, advancing to better jobs, giving up the old bullshit for the new awesomeness. And where am I? I'm stuck here - living alone, being alone, being miserable in my thankless job. It's not for lack of trying. I've put out more resumes than I can recall, and while last year there were a slew of promising interviews, this year remains nothing but silence. 

So what am I doing wrong?

I've been trying to like Philadelphia, really I have. And I've been trying to date and give people the benefit of the doubt. But the more nothing goes the way I see it going for others, I really have to wonder if maybe it's really just me. I'm what's wrong in this equation. I have dreams and principles and goals set for myself and my future that I'm not willing to compromise - is that really so wrong? There are things that I feel in my heart and my gut that I know are right - things that I know that I can do, tasks that I can legitimately accomplish - but nothing is propelling my life into motion; the pieces to the puzzle just always seem to be missing.

I am rapidly approaching 30 and with it brings along this wide-eyed sense of panic and anxiety. I don't know where I wanna go or who I wanna be or what I wanna do. Every day I'm on to a new thought or idea or city or state or country; I could move to X and do Y. I don't have a problem picking up and starting over - it's the part that happens after I get there that's going to be difficult. All I really want is to just be happy. To wake up in the morning and not hate where I am or where I'm going, what I have to do or who I have to see. Do people really have that? Do people really, genuinely, truly wake up in the morning loving every single little aspect of their lives? To not have regrets that they wish they had gone here, done this, tried that. To not have all this fear of moving forward to the exciting and new because they are too scare to let go of the past, the safe, the familiar.

Friends in long term relationships are moving in together, trying to find the perfect living spaces in which to combine all their things, posting the totally cool, quirky wall art of that thing they both like. Or the pictures of their fridge covered in pictures of that trip they once took. Well, I tried that whole "living together" thing once and it didn't go so well, and the thought of putting that much of myself on the line, the merging of things, even if I know in my heart that this other person would never do me wrong, still feels unnerving and makes me break out into a cold sweat of sharing an apartment with anything bigger then a ladybug.

As friends marry and have babies and post pictures of said babies on social media sites, I feel these little twinges of the hetero-normative pulling and prodding. "Find a husband, have a baby - happy wife, happy life." Being married, pregnant, raising children? These are not the ideals I see for myself, and ultimately it becomes my cross to bear as I see others finding happiness in these simple milestones and wonder if maybe, I just compromised my own beliefs, that I could find that happiness too. 

But I know I won't. I would never be happy just trying to fit the mold. I know I'm going to be amazing one day. I'm bound for glory. But can it just hurry up and get here already? Because I'm really starting to get worried that I'm fucking it up.

Butterflies

I really ought to apologize to him. I lied when I said "It's not you, it's me" because it was him.

After kissing so many frogs, I finally found a prince. After all those duds, he made me see sparks.

He was the first boy that I'd kissed in a long time that made me feel butterflies.


And it scared the shit out of me.

He was so nice and sweet and kind. He made me nervous and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself with him. Like I would just let the emotions take over; like I really could have fallen in love.

I tried to play it off and make excuses, talk myself out of it, date someone else. But the whole time I was with #2, I couldn't stop thinking about #1. Running into him in hallways, dreaming about passionately making out with him on their shared couch, fantasizing about sneaking into his bed in the middle of the night.

.......

"Shhh!" I'd put my finger to his lips as I slipped between his sheets, then kiss him softly right in the area between his ear and his cheek, running my hand strongly across his firm chest. I pictured his arms embracing me gently but kissing me firmly, holding me close and making me feel safe; like I was the only girl in the world.

.........

Maybe all my excuses were right. Maybe it's better that we were never together.

He would have treated me like a Princess and I turned around and treated him like a Frog. 

And I never deserved him, anyway.

Tongue Tied

I'm terrible at talking about things. Words just tend to bunch up somewhere in the back of my throat, stumble around on my tongue and never make it past my lips. Whenever they do manage to come out of my mouth, they are discombobulated, adjectives running into nouns, trampling each other and never making sense. So that's why I write - because I'm horrible at getting out the things that I want to say in an eloquent enough way for them to makes sense to human ears. I try to explain myself to people, apologize for things, separate myself from situations in a mature, adult manner and I can't. It's not that I don't know how - I can formulate all the monologues in my head - but it's that I don't know how to get them out of there. So I don't. I cease communication. I cut people off. I cower into a corner, speechless. Because it's easier to be silent than try to stutter and ramble or be guilted or have to fight or defend myself. Easier than having words thrown back in my face - words that hurt or sting or pull at my heart strings. Words that make me feel things that I want to avoid.

Usually I'm better at writing than I am at speaking. But I haven't even been able to write lately. The words get stuck in the area between my brain and my fingers on computer keys. I've been worried about it. Thoughts that used to flow so easily now seem difficult to get down on a page; forcing my creativity to show itself ends in vain. Even this post right now is a challenge: I'm distracted. I'm distant, unfocused. Everything is crowded. All the great ideas, the stories, the jokes, the anecdotes - they're trapped, aching to find release. I know what I want to say, so why can't I just get it out?

........

They say if you never ask then you'll never know. But really, don't we already know? Isn't that why we're afraid to ask in the first place? We're not strong enough to face the rejection of our dreams - no matter how strong of an argument for them we may have, no matter how passionate we are for the cause - we're afraid of the possibility of "No". I was told "No" so often growing up every time I asked for something that I just decided to stop asking altogether, because I was tired of hearing no. I'm afraid to ask anything now, even if I know the answer will be a resounding yes; all because of the small fraction of the potential for "No."


I wish I could just tell him how I'm feeling. How when I got that email, how much I wanted to say the words that I'd been waiting so long to say because he'd finally said something that I'd been waiting so long to hear. "I'm lost too." I should have told him. "Come back and we can be lost together. We'll help each other find whatever it is we're looking for. I can be your Next." But I chickened out and just typed a sarcastic, off handed remark and the door to that topic was closed. And now the words are piling up because all I can think about is "What if?" What if I said what I'd wanted? Would it have had a warm reception? Or would he have just brushed it off as a passing, drunken comment in a moment of weakness that had no real weight on the reality of his situation? Maybe that's why I didn't say what I should have: because I was afraid that I wouldn't get the response that I was hoping for in my head. Maybe that's why I never say what I want to.

Because I'm afraid of the truth. Because I'm afraid of the "No".

If I don't ask, then he never has to let me down, he never has to reject me. I can keep the fantasy going in my head; the hoping, the wishing, the wanting, the waiting. In my head, I always get the answer I want.

But then the words start piling up. There's no where to put them all - all the things that I want to tell him, all the things I want answers to, the things I've put off discussing. They start clogging my brain. Then, there's no easy way for them to come out. The exits are blocked, the doors are bulging as they try to hold back the overflow. One day, I'm just going to explode and everything will just spill out like lava, destroying everything in its path.

...And then, I'll just get tongue tied again.

Out of Order

"Out of Order"

Whenever we see or hear that phrase, it can mean a lot of things. It could refer to something that is broken and not currently functioning. It could mean that things are in disarray; out of order from the neat and proper way that they are supposed to be kept, out of place. Or, perhaps one of the most infamous ways this phrase has ever been uttered, from the movie "A Few Good Men": "You're out of order"! - inappropriate, stepping over the lines of decency. I've definitely applied all of those definitions to different aspects of my life within the past few weeks and they are really starting to take their toll on me. My whole universe is currently "out of order".

........

It all started with a boy, as most things in my life tend to start with. I met a boy who was nice and kind and sweet. I really liked him, I really did. But, I am so broken and out of order. There's just too much baggage in my life, skeletons banging to get out of my closets, that I could never expect someone like him to be able to handle that. He would never be able to carry all my baggage. And so, I let things go to the wayside.

And then, I met another boy. The only problem was: Boy #2 was Boy #1's roommate.

Because I'm not enough of a martyr. Because I apparently can't handle enough chaos in my life that I just need to keep piling it on and getting myself into situations that are unhealthy and probably going to end in (ok, always destined to end in) disaster, I moved things forward with Boy #2. (Apparently, they conferred about this situation - aka Me - first and Boy #1 gave reluctant approval for Boy #2 to ask me out.)

And I really liked Boy #2. He was basically like, the boy version of me. (Except, clearly, I'm way cooler and more attractive. /sarcasm) We became "partners in awesomeness". He thought I was clever and funny and beautiful (all true things, obviously) and I thought he was handsome and smart and brilliant. I admired and adored him. I loved joking and laughing and smiling and plotting with him.

Yet, despite all those awesome feelings and fun times, I kept defaulting to my stupid thing that I do with boys where I keep them at arms length and pretend I don't have feelings because I don't want to get hurt and try to keep everything as casual as possible and pretend like I don't care.

Only problem is: I started to care. And it scared the shit out of me.

"Hmm, I think I might kind of like you...", I once told him, half joking, half serious. 

I kept trying to tell myself things to psych myself out of it, like "Well, I'm never going to love him like I love Emmett. He's never going to be as good as Emmett." or "Oh, I'm not trying to put down roots in Philadelphia. I'm leaving soon. I can't get into anything serious." My friend and I even resorted to making Pro & Con lists about him. (I know we all remember that episode of FRIENDS where Ross makes the Julie & Rachel pro/con list - and we saw how well that turned out at the time. "She's not Ratchum!??!")

But I started feeling like maybe this could be something serious, like maybe I could really fall for this person, like maybe Philadelphia wasn't so bad after all as long as I had someone to share it with. I got butterflies when I was with him and I got sad when we were apart. I always wanted to be around him; sharing kisses and creativity and scotch and calamari. That, my friends, sent me into the panic of the century. I started having anxiety attacks, worrying that I was going to get trapped here in Philadelphia - in a job I hate, in a sub-par relationship with someone who was not the soul mate I envisioned for myself. So of course, I went into self-sabotage mode.

Anything good in my life will always turn to shit. And its 99.9% always my fault.

The whole version of events as to how we met was something that we joked about a lot. It was unavoidable - literally. I mean, I was dating someone who had a roommate who I also went on a date with once. And there were playful jokes about well, maybe I should just go on over to Boy #1's room sometime and try and seduce him - or whatever. Totally and completely not serious, but wheels kept turning in my head. I kept having these "What if?" moments.

What if I had just dated Boy #1 instead? It wasn't that I didn't like him; we had a lot of common interests. What if I could date Boy #1 Mondays, Wednesdays & Fridays and Boy #2 Sundays, Tuesdays & Thursdays and then they could alternate Saturdays? What if I could really get these guys into a polyamorous relationship and have them be totally cool with it? I mean, in the Millenium trilogy, Berger is able to have her husband for one part of her life to fulfill certain needs, and Blomkvist as her lover and for everything else. Why could I have that too?

So, I got fucking greedy is what fucking happened.

I had already started being aloof with Boy #2 and downplaying things and acting like I didn't care. Rubbing it in his face that I'd applied to 2 jobs back home one week and how my boss had asked if he would come with me and I'd recoiled in disgust like, "GOD NO! I mean, it's not THAT serious!" How I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of Philadelphia and leave this shit stink of a town behind - and presumably him as well.

And then, one night, I did the unthinkable: I, while under the influence of several beers and shots of Patron, messaged Boy #1 and asked him to come over.

I mean, I wasn't even really being serious. I wasn't home at the time. I wasn't expecting him to actually come over. I knew he was out drunk too so I don't even know how he'd even get to my house (that I wasn't at). And even if he had shown up, I probably would have slammed the door in his face and laughed.

And then Boy #1 told Boy #2 and he was pissed.

I don't know why I expected him not to be. I don't know why I thought "I was really drunk" was going to be an excuse and he was going to forgive me for it. (Maybe because I once blatantly tried to shove my hands down the pants of a friend of a guy that I was dating - and not really into - right in front of him while shitfaced?) That's an excuse you use when you're 18, not when you're 28. And so I don't really know why I was shocked when he broke up with me.

At first, I was pissed and angry. Like, HOW DARE HE! Like I didn't cause this; that this was somehow his fault. And so I sat around being really pissy and angry for a week and hating Boy #1 and Boy #2 for getting me into this situation. Like somehow this all could have been prevented from Day 1 if we just had some kind of weird threesome and then let everything work itself out. To have eased the tension of avoiding Boy #1 every time I came to their apartment. To have stopped thinking about how I was flaunting this relationship with his roommate in his face.

Point is: I hurt people's feelings. And that's what's really fucking out of order.

My behavior was out of order and what I did isn't really forgivable. Shit, I wouldn't forgive me. But that's because I don't forgive anyone easily. (Must run in my family because my Mom is really good at holding grudges for decades.) But I wish I could be forgiven. I wish this albatross wasn't hanging from my neck day in and day out. I wish I could just go back and erase everything that happened - but I can't. I have felt guilt about what I've done, this pit in my stomach that won't go away. I hate myself. I deserve this shitty feeling of feeling like a shitty person because I am one.

And I want to apologize. 

I've really started to like it in Philadelphia, and it was because of you. And now, I feel like I can't even go certain places because they remind me of you or things that we could be doing together. I sit there and I think, "Oh, he would really love this or that." Or, I'll see something that would be perfect for you or have an idea or a joke. And I can't even tell you about it because you hate me.

You inspired me to be something better than I was. The girl just biding my time til I got the hell up out of dodge; you made me want to do more, be more, dream bigger. The cupcake business, marketing ideas, freelancing - you awakened these dreams inside me to help me make my time here so much more enjoyable - and now, I just feel empty again and uninspired. I admired the way you dreamed big - the things that you wanted to create and I wish that I could be by your side supporting you and seeing you through it, seeing your genius reach the light. I wish I could be your partner again. I adored listening to how passionate you were about everything - and I won't lie, that's what I found sexiest about you - your creativity and intelligence. I was like a moth to a flame just wanting to feed off your energy and have that kind of dream for myself too.

I know you hate me right now. And you have every right to. I betrayed you. It was wrong and stupid and I want you to know how truly sorry I am. I am begging you please, if you could just listen with your heart when I tell you that, I know you can't forgive me right now - but I'm going to do everything in my power to make it up to you. No matter what happens. No matter what you decide to do. I hope we can at least be friends again one day.

I'm Sorry, Ricky.

Win Some, Lose Some

There are words inside my head, struggling to get out. I’ve been trying, but they just don’t seem to want to come. I have demons inside me too that are battling each other. They seem to have no problem slipping past from time to time. But the darker ones, the deeper rooted ones; those are the ones that are the worst. They fight and control me. They are the ones keeping the words inside because they don’t want the truth to come out.

........

We’re all battling something, hiding something, running from something. Most of the times, it’s from our own selves, from our past, our present, our future. We run from the things that scare us and from the things that bring us joy. We hide the person we used to be from the person we want everyone to think that we’ve become. We battle the guilt we feel over doing things, or not doing things, or not doing things the way we wish we had done them, or over the way we did something that did not lead to lifting this guilt.

I’m an Asshole. I’m selfish, egotistical, a sociopath; self-obsessed and un-remorseful. I’m opportunistic.  I do things without thinking of the consequences. I hurt other people without thinking of their feelings. And then I feel guilty about the pain I’ve caused, about the ways I’ve fucked up, about the people I’ve forced out of my life. 

I’ve left a wake of boys and men in my path for 10 years and I have nothing to show for it. 

But why?

I don’t have daddy issues, but I am an only child. I was never given everything and anything I wanted though. My parents made me work for everything I’ve ever had. I could blame the one person who ruined my entire life for me, but it didn’t just start there. I was doing this long before that – this erratic behavior - sometimes manipulation of their feelings, sometimes manipulation of my own. Shutting myself off and acting like I don’t give a fuck one second, then crying and pleading because I realized that I’m ruining, have ruined, a good thing. 

At first, maybe it was just boredom. The first boy I ever dated had an obsession with video games and became more interested in them than with me. So what did I do? I went out and found someone to be obsessed with me instead, while still dating the video game lover; an entire summer spent sneaking around behind his back. And then, when my new paramour ‘cheated’ on me with another girl, I was appalled and cut off contact with him; even though he was doing precisely the same thing I was doing to someone else. Then, he told me he loved me and I threw it back in his face. “You don’t love me. You don’t even know what love is.” And went back to vie for the video game lover’s attention.

I used them both to make myself feel better about myself, and in the end, I was just alone and felt miserable. Several years later, I even found myself with my paramour again, repeating the same cycle. I was obsessed over another boy who wouldn’t give me the time of day – and once again, he was there. So I led him on and baited him, and then dropped him like a bad habit once I had the attention of object of my desires. What a vicious cycle.

I want things my way, on my terms. Seems like a simple request, no? But I guess it borders on selfishness, wanting someone only when you want them, and the way you want them. Pushing them away when they’re too close, then struggling to draw them to you to get the attention you crave when it’s lacking. Pointing out all their flaws, the things that disgust you, finding reasons to leave or to not get close – then grasping at straws for the things you liked and loved, all the good points and great moments you shared while you’re watching them walk away. 

I thought maybe my destructive, abusive relationship may have been the root of this – and ok, maybe it can take the credit for some of it. He had played the game right back to me and he was better at it and he won. He could be blamed for the trust issues, for the not wanting to let anyone get close, to see the real you, for fear that they’ll realize you’re a disappointment and leave. That they’ll see those demons peeking out of your closet, find out who the real you really is, and despise it. Because everyone you let get close to you once at one point in time all turned on you and left you cold. Men who you’ve dragged through the mud, who would have gone to the ends of the Earth and back for you, but you never even bothered to give them the chance that they didn’t even know they never had. You played with their heart strings while playing apathetic.

And then finally, he came along. A person who you didn’t have to play games with, someone who finally understood you as you are and called you out on all your bullshit when you tried to play the game with him once and he wasn’t having it. And you didn’t have to fake it this time, the feeling was real. But he left – but not because of you – but he was still gone. And you reunited a few times and got closer, feelings grew deeper, and you thought to yourself – this is it, the thing people talk about all the time: 

Real Love. Soul mates. A partner for life. 

And you told him you loved him so because you swear you’d see it sparkling in his eyes whenever he looked at you, whenever he smiled that smile he only smiled for you. He did the things that no one else ever did, paying attention to all the tiniest details, and listening, really and truly listening to you. Caring for you, taking everything into consideration that made it worth it and you wanted to reciprocate all those things in the greatest way you knew how. 

And so you said those Three Little Words – words that you had uttered as a teenager without knowing the meaning, as a love sick college girl in the heat of the moment, on a dark winter night with someone you had once thought could have been the one, over the window of a car door while coerced by someone who had played the game back and won, and that one other time where you didn’t even mean it at all - and this time, you really, really meant those words this time. 

But he didn’t say them back. And then, the walls caved in all around you. You’d been waiting so long. It felt so right – how could this not be right!? 

It was time to play the game again. 

You hoped maybe if you played the game long enough, you’d find another him one day. Maybe you’ll find another one of him one day. I mean, you will right? You have to, right? 

So it was back to a string of dates with boys who didn’t make your heart skip a beat the same way, who didn’t send a charge through your body with a single kiss, whose eyes showed you something deeper when you looked into them. Try one on, see if it fits. Don’t like it, but buy it anyway. Regret it later but you’ve already cut off the tags so you can’t take it back now. You wanted to try and like them, to give them a chance instead of always holding them up to him for comparison. You really were trying. You were.

And then you found two pairs that you thought both looked great. One fit one way, and the other fit the other way. You would never be able to wear them to the same things; they both served different purposes and would have been great for different occasions. The first pair was newer, fit tighter, were the kind you wouldn’t want to take out of the closet unless it was important. So you left the first pair in the closet and bought the second pair. The second was more comfortable, an everyday kind of wear; reliable but you over wore them and took them for granted. You kept trying to find problems with the second pair that would give you a reason to wear the first pair, secretly lusting over the first pair, wondering what it would be like to wear those all the time instead. So, you wanted to see if you could try the first pair on for size and the second pair caught you. And then, you were left with none. 

You tried to go double or nothing and came up empty handed. You were greedy and selfish and now, you were alone again. And now you feel guilty. The second pair was great and was really starting to be your favorite. You had fun together. They complimented you and made you feel confident, alive, amazing, like you could have done anything. You could have taken on the world with the second pair by your side. They almost made your forget all about him. As much as you tried to fool yourself into thinking that you would never love them as much as you loved him, you were warming up to the idea. It wasn’t quite the same but it was a different kind of comfort, a different kind of fit. Like switching from a boot cut to a straight leg: They both looked great on you and hugged your curves in all the right places; they just gave you two totally different looks. They could have been your favorite.

I know I can’t make amends for the hurt that I’ve caused in the past, but if I could apologize knowing that my voice would be heard, and that they would accept my apologies, I would. I don’t want it to feel forced or feel like it’s falling on deaf ears. I want it to be genuine and real and honest. I want the other person to accept that I am trying to change here and give me that chance. But I think I’m past the point of repair.

You can’t make someone love you, but you sure as hell can make someone stop. And you can’t make someone stop hating you, but you sure know how to make them start.

I don’t know how to change the past but I think I know how to change my future. I don’t want to play the game anymore. I want to actively change my behavior to avoid this kind of destruction. I want to live without fear of being hurt because I can’t get past my past. I want to give you a chance and I want you to give me one too. Because we all deserve second chances in life – and I think it’s time I got mine.

V-Day Mixtape

Oh Valentine's Day - the day we live for, or the day we live to forget. No matter what your feelings are on this holiday that was completely contrived by the greeting card companies, and no matter what your relationship status, I have compiled a few playlists to help ease or elevate your mood (depending on your situation) this February 14th.

The Unrequited Mix - For those of us who are soulfully pining over someone who probably doesn't even know that we're alive

Aaliyah - 4 Page Letter
Head Automatica - Beating Hearts Baby
Fergie - Clumsy
Ashlee Simpson - Fall in Love with Me
Michael Cera & Ellen Page - Anyone Else But You
Incubus - Stellar
Letters to Cleo - I Want You to Want Me
LL Cool J - Hey Lover ft. Boyz 2 Men
Mariah Carey - Fantasy
Leona Lewis - Bleeding Love
Dashboard Confessional - Stolen
Natasha Beddingfield - I Wanna Have Your Babies
Karina Pasian - Just Can't Find The Words
David Archuleta - Crush
Amerie - One Thing
Ryan Adams - Wonderwall
Janet Jackson - If I Was Your Girl
The Cardigans - Lovefool

The Over It Mix- When you've had it with your loved one, or former loved one

Mariah Carey - Shake it Off
Maroon 5 ft Rihanna - If I Never See Your Face Again
Keyshia Cole - I Just Want it to be Over
Blu Cantrell - Hit Em Up Style
Keyshia Cole - Let it Go
Aly & AJ - Potential Break Up Song
Ashanti - Unfoolish Remix
Justin Timberlake - Cry Me A River
Maroon 5 - Makes me Wonder
Keyshia Cole - I Should've Cheated
Ashlee Simpson - No Time for Tears
Danity Kane - Damaged
Christina Aguilera - Fighter
Ciara - Like a Boy
Beyonce - If I Were a Boy
Gilette - Mr Personality
Good Charlotte - I Don't Wanna be in Love
Jaheim - Put that Woman First
Kelly Clarkson - Behind These Hazel Eyes
Kelly Clarkson - Since You've Been Gone
Missy Elliot - Toyz
Mya - Case of the Ex
Mya - Movin On
Timbaland ft One Republic - Apologize
Rihanna - Breakin Dishes
Ashlee Simpson - Surrender
Black Eyed Peas - Don't Phunk With My Heart
Brandy - What About Us?
Cassie - Official Girl
Britney Spears - Womanizer
Britney Spears - Why Should I Be Sad?
Jennifer Hudson - Spotlight
Jennifer Lopez - I'm Gonna be Alright
Taylor Swift - You're Not Sorry
Carrie Underwood - Before He Cheats

The Back Seat Mix - For a foggy windowed good time (or inside if it's too cold)

Bobby Valentino - Tell Me (remix)
Marques Houston - Naked (remix)
Justin Timberlake - My Love
Ludacris - What's Your Fantasy
Ginuwine - My Pony
No Doubt - Making Out
Day 26 - All I Want is You
Mariah Carey - Touch My Body
Rihanna - Push Up On Me
Britney Spears - Breathe On Me
Britney Spears - And Then We Kiss (Junkie XL remix)
Snoop Dogg - Sexual Eruption
LL Cool J - Doin It
Cassie - Me & You
Duran Duran - Come Undone
Britney Spears - Phonography
Jay - Z ft Pharrell - Fuck All Nite
Boyz II Men - I'll Make Love To You
Missy Elliot - One Minute Man
Panic! At The Disco - Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off
Lil Kim ft 50 Cent - Magic Stick
50 Cent - Amusement Park
Lil Wayne - Lollipop
Dru Hill - Got to Get It


The Happy Together Mix - Everything's perfect and happy and roses and sunshine! You're in LURVVVVVVVVE (lol)

50 Cent & Olivia - Best Friend
LL Cool J ft Amerie - Paradise
Natasha Beddingfield - Put Your Arms Around Me
Marie Digby - Say it Again
Common - Come Close
Jason Mraz - I'm Yours
Incubus - Echo
Jack Johnson - Banana Pancakes
Boyz II Men - On Bended Knee
Dashboard Confessional - As Lovers Go
Finley Quaye - Dice
Tanto Metro & Devonte - Everyone Falls in Love Sometimes
Mariah Carey - Ill be Loving you Long Time
Plain White Ts - 1, 2, 3, 4
Ashlee Simpson - L.O.V.E.
Ashlee Simpson - Never Dream Alone
Bow Wow ft Ciara - Like You

Single and Lovin it Mix - You're all you need!

Kelis - Bossy
Ne-Yo - Miss Independent
Katy Perry - I Kissed a Girl
Britney Spears - Touch of My Hand
Ashlee Simpson - Boys
Beyonce - Single Ladies
Britney Spears - My Prerogative
Black Eyed Peas - My Humps
City High - Caramel (remix)
Eve - Who's That Girl
Adina Howard - Freak Like Me
Nelly Furtado - Maneater
Pink - So What
Britney Spears - If You Seek Amy
Fall Out Boy - I Don't Care
Beyonce - Me, Myself, and I


Hate That I Love You Mix - You used to Love them, Now you Hate them (you think), either way, you can't' stop thinking about them

Miley Cyrus - 7 Things
Rihanna ft Chris Brown - Hate That I Love You
Chairlift - Bruises
Duffy - Stepping Stone
Amy Winehouse - Tears Dry On Their Own
Mariah Carey - Heartbreaker
Tegan & Sara - Back In Your Head
Bright Eyes - Lover I Don't Have to Love
Bush - The Chemicals Between Us
Alicia Keys - Like You'll Never see me Again
No Doubt - Running
Janet Jackson - Again
Kanye West - Heartless
Kanye West - Bittersweet Poetry
Lady GaGa - Brown Eyes
Little Boots - Stuck on Repeat
Mariah Carey - We Belong Together
Monica - So Gone
Ne-Yo - So Sick
SWV - Weak
No Doubt - Happy Now?
N'Sync - Gone
Paramore - I Caught Myself
Duffy - Mercy
Katy Perry - Hot n Cold
Timbaland ft Patrick Stump (FOB) - One and Only
Prince - When Doves Cry
Taylor Swift - The Way I Loved You
Bow Wow - Outta My System

The Afterglow

Have you ever known someone and then not talked to or seen them for a while and then, when you do see them again, they just seem... broken?  (I'm talking several months or years, not just days or weeks.) And it just seems like something has changed this person - a serious life event or maybe just the passing of time - to the point where they're just not the same as you remember once knowing them? You're hoping they're going to be the cheerful, hopeful, fun person that you remember and instead, there's just an awkward shell.

I went to Boston a few weeks ago and I saw Jon for the first time in at least 6 years. The last time we saw each other was about a year after we had broken up and we told each other how well the other looked, how great it was to see them and how they were doing. But then... everything changed.

He came inside Erin's apartment and could barely meet my gaze. When we got in the car and we were catching up he just seemed cold, pre-occupied, distant - not because of me, but something deeper. The conversation just didn't seem natural. Something just wasn't right, like a light had been turned off inside him; the flame of the young, bouncy, fun loving boy I knew when I was 19 years old had vanished. Sure people grow up and age and mature but that wasn't it. That wasn't how I knew him. He had never been awkward. He had always been outgoing and able to make friends in seconds and talk on an array of topics with passion and intensity. We had shared two years together filled with adventures and intelligent moments and philosophical pondering, intimacy, giggling, expanding our minds with drugs and research chemicals and loud electronic music. Maybe we weren't friends in the technical sense anymore but we still knew each other... didn't we?

Inside the club we got some drinks and caught up some more, saw old friends and bopped our heads to the music and he didn't dance. It was the first time I'd ever seen him just not immerse himself in the beats, feel the rhythm, see the way it let his body flow and ebb like a river. That had always been my favorite thing to do: watch him dance. He always looked so alive; each bass line controlling him like a marionette. At some point a girl had come up to him and talked to him and when she walked away he told me, "That was my ex.... She ruined my life." I laughed because I could relate.

He told me whenever I was ready to go, he was too, so I said I was ready and we left. We drove around in the late, dark night of Cambridge, looping through supermarket parking lots and idling at red lights. He asked me to come back to his place and cuddle and I obliged (even after he had told me earlier he was dating a really great girl - but they were in an open relationship which apparently he didn't abuse the privilege of). Once inside, he told me the story of his ex and I could see the pain, the emptiness so much clearer now. Could see how broken this girl had made him. He was always the nicest, most non-confrontational person. Everyone loved him and he loved all. He made friends with anyone and everyone. And yet, this girl turned his life upside down in such a malicious manner. I couldn't wrap my head around how anyone could ever do that to someone like him. We climbed up into his loft bed and he put on a wave light. I laid down 6 inches from him on his mattress and then, without warning, he pulled me close into him, sending me back in time.

It's so weird to think that someone who you used to kiss and hug and hold and love and make love with still exists when they're not in your life anymore. Even stranger still, when you reunite with this person and they touch you, it just feels like second nature. You can recall the way this person has stroked you in the past, the softness of their lips, every curve of their body, every scar and birthmark. And yet, he still allows you a bit of modesty to change your pants in his room while he waits outside even though he could probably close his eyes and still remember you naked. We laid in bed together, skin on skin, his arms around me spooning me from behind and suddenly, there it was - he was back. He slipped into this voice that I always remembered him using with me: soft, sweet, childlike. "I'm so glad you stayed", he whispered in my ear as he kissed my shoulders. I playfully bit him on the arm like I used to and he held me tighter, snuggling into my back. That bed became a time machine for the night.

In the morning, we woke up and were back to square one. He let me change in peace and drove me back to Erin's place. We gave a quick hug and waved goodbye and said how nice a time we had had and how it had been so good to see each other once again. I wish I hadn't had to lie. I wish I hadn't had to see him that way - vacant eyes and lost inside. It really pained me to see him so different and broken. But at least for that one moment at night, we were able to relive the past and put our present aside.