Goodbye 2013 ...

2013, what a tricky lady you turned out to be.  You always kept me guessing, full of beautiful beginnings, tragic endings, and all different forms of the in-betweens. I am not sad to see you go.  I am ready for what 2014 will hold for me, but I would like to look back at what bumps, bruises, and blessings 2013 left me with.  

January brought a new job, a new apartment, and the loss of an old friend.  As exciting as changing career paths was, it was also terrifying!  Looking back, I am very happy with the decision and don’t know that I could be happier doing anything else.  I also love my studio and living alone.  It is my little corner of the world where I can tuck away, let my hair down (or in my case, put it up), and not have to worry about anyone but myself.  Losing J was hard.  I don’t know that I will ever understand why he took his own life.  I felt so much all at once: angry, confused, guilty, numb, destroyed.  I miss him!  I will forever be, in his words, “His fag hag!”

For my 3rd year in DC 2013 actually held a lot of firsts!  First time to go to Vegas, Taste of the South, and Gold Cup; first group trip I ever planned; first joint birthday party; first trip to Miss America.  I feel like I really started living in 2013, more than just going out to the bar (which I did do a lot!), but doing the things that I kept putting off, having real adventures!

I let go of someone I loved and discovered my true feelings for someone else in my life.  I know you all are probably tired of reading about D, and honestly, I am tired of writing about him, but it wouldn’t be a recap of my life in 2013 without mentioning him, what I put myself though b/c of him this year.  

Walking away from D is at the top of the lists of the best things I have ever done for myself, and the hardest things I have ever done.  I think if you love someone, truly love them, you never really stop loving them.  There just comes a point when love isn’t enough to keep you anymore, love doesn’t take away the hurt and lies, or dry the tears.  D hurt me, more than I will ever be able to put into words really.  I have tried so many times to say that he didn’t crush me, not completely, but I don’t know if that is necessarily true.  I think I allowed him to stifle my spark.  In my need to feel special, I allowed him to drain me of everything spectacular about me.  I think my last words to him might be the most perfect words I have ever spoken in a moment, “I want you to be happy, but I want me to be happy more.  You no longer contribute to my happiness.”  I am still angry at him, and I know I probably will be for a long time.  I think more than anything I am angry at myself for letting it go on for so long, and for getting so out of hand.  I let my feelings for him blind me from so many things.  I am glad I took off my rose colored glasses and see him and our former relationship for what it really was.  What it is now is finally over.  It is the past, and I am resolved to leave it there.  

I mentioned that I discovered my true feelings for someone else, and I am only going to touch on this briefly.  This is a part of my life I want to keep to myself, it is more real than anything else I have ever felt and very private.  It is funny how some things sneak up on you though.  They develop, grow, take hold of you without you even realizing it.  They are real, deep, and a part of you.  Loving some people is as natural as breathing.  It doesn’t hurt, their love doesn’t cripple you, it just becomes part of who you are.  These feelings are also inconvenient, inopportune, and even inappropriate.  You can try to put them back in the box deep inside of you from where they came, you can try.  I am trying.  Maybe I missed my moment in time with this person, maybe it is yet to come, but maybe it never will.  

 

2013 you have been a hard year, a great year, but difficult nonetheless.  As I bid farewell, I am starting 2014 with a heart that is at peace.  Instead of looking at my imperfections, I am focusing on what I want out of my life, and what I need to do to get it.  I, through therapy, am finding an inner strength that I never knew I could posses.  I feel hopeful and open to a world of possibilities.  2014, show me what you’ve got!    

Fool

Sometimes, life slithers up when you least expect it and snaps at your heels; it strikes and the venom of that moment’s poison spreads.  I thought I was immune to D, that there was no way he could hurt me anymore.  I was wrong.   

Over a year ago, when D and I sat down in a Starbucks and talked everything out, I asked him a question that was very important to me.  I ask him if he had ever cheated on his girlfriend before me or after me.  He told me no.  He told me it had just been me.  For some reason, this was a comfort; it let me keep up my illusion that D was a good man.  It made me feel special, like there was something about me from which he couldn’t just walk away.  I didn’t see the facts - if I was special, then why didn’t he leave her for me. It doesn’t matter because I wasn’t special at all.  

I found out that he had cheated before, or during, the time we were whatever we were.  I don’t know the timing, but I do know I was not the only one.  He lied to her too.  He strung her along, made her feel special.  I don’t know why I am surprised by his lying to me - he had before.  I had just grown to trust him.  That day we were supposed to be completely honest with each other, laying it all on the table.  He looked me straight in the eyes and told me what he thought I wanted to hear.  Really, I just wanted the truth.  

I realize that I never really knew D, I fell in love with a lie.  I thought that he had so much good in him.  We were two good people that found ourselves in an impossible situation, but really I don’t know if either of us are good.  He isn’t.  There is no good in D at all.  How can he play with so many peoples’ emotions for his own amusement and still have any good in him at all?  He intentionally hurt me, and he intentionally hurts his girlfriend over and over again.  

I feel sorry for her.  She is in a relationship with a stranger who has no regard for her or her feelings.  I used to wish everyday that their relationship would end.  I can’t be that good of a person because I wished that pain on her.  I now wish for the same thing but for different reasons.  I wish for her to be free of D, to move on with her life before it is too late.  No one deserves to be with someone that dishonest.

I really don’t know how to express what I am feeling.  I feel like he ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it into dust.  I feel so stupid, so very stupid, for ever trusting him, for ever loving him.  Here I am doing the thing I promised I would never do again, crying over D.  My tears aren’t really for him though.  I am crying because I lost myself for a person I never really knew.  I am crying because I was a fool, an absolute and complete fool!  

      

Married Off

No one knows how to build you up or tear you down like your mother.  She can be your biggest cheerleader and your greatest critic, especially if you are Southern.  I am blessed with an incredible mother who encouraged me to move to DC with just a suitcase and a dream.  She has helped with rent so I don’t have to worry about getting stabbed every time I leave my apartment, and she buys a plane ticket when my homesickness gets out of hand.  She also does not hesitate to tell me that something used to fit differently (aka you have gained weight), I would look “disgusting” as a redhead, and if God wanted my hair curled he would have given me curly hair.  All out of love, or course.  

Since I turned 26, she has begun a new type of criticism mixed with guilt.  When we were talking the other day, she decided to bring up a guy from my hometown.  This guy is great, it is true, but my mom has been trying to get me to date him for a full decade.  He is now doing his residency post medical school.  Now, I will admit that I did try to date him in college, but he just wasn’t into it, or more accurately, oblivious to my efforts.  The rest of the conversation went as follows:

Harper: Mom, stop trying to marry me off!

Mom: You know I used to never understand those parents that tried to marry off their children.  Now I get it!  I just want you to be married.  I think a wedding would be fun!

Harper: Mom, yes a wedding would be fun.  You think I don’t want to be married?  It is not that easy.  I first need to find someone to date me.

Mom: I just don’t want your nieces to be my only grandchildren.  

It’s not like I don’t put enough pressure on myself for not being in a certain place in my life.  I do want to find a partner to spend the rest of my life with.  If I could will that to happen, I would be married already, but I can’t.  I have to let life run its course.  When I am ready, when my soulmate is ready, everything will fall into place.  Until then, I will have to deal with my mom trying to marry me off to the next “great catch” she discovers back in Mississippi.  

Her guilt trips sting more sometimes than others.  Last week, I found out that my high school love Daniel got engaged.  Daniel is, to this day, the longest and most serious relationship I have ever had.  Two years we were together, and I loved him.  He loved me, maybe more than I loved him.  I broke his heart twice, so it is only fair that when I fell back in love with him right after college that he broke mine.  I told him I loved him right before I was supposed to leave for DC.  I would have stayed if he had asked me to, but he told me to go, he told me we would only ever be just friends.  

I have loved a few people in my life, but Daniel is the only one of them who ever loved me back.  He loved me when I didn’t deserve it, and his heart broke at my hand.  I was young, scared, and didn’t appreciate the simple kindness of his love.  I often feel cursed, that I broke my first love’s heart, and therefore, every love after him will break mine.  Maybe he is the only person who will ever love me, the only person who will ever open their heart to me.  Now he is marrying someone else.  What if your person chooses someone else?  What happens then?  How do you survive if the only person that will ever love you chooses to stop loving you?  How do you move on from that?  

Maybe my mom is right for trying to marry me off.  Maybe I will never find love on my own.  It is quite possible that at 16 years old I threw away the only real love I will ever have.  

I am happy for Daniel.  I will always love him, and I am so glad he found his happiness.  I just wish I could find my own.

Roller Coaster of Emotions (The Sequel)

Last week was a whirlwind, a roller coaster of emotions*, if you will.  After a birthday party to end all parties on Saturday, I found myself in kind of lackluster mood.  I don’t really know how to describe it.  It was like I knew my actual birthDAY would not be able to live up to my party.  At the same time, I knew that was the point of the epic birthday party, to go all out - because my birthday was in the middle of the week.  

When the day rolled around, I was swamped at work, and 5pm could not get here any faster.  I had dinner reservations at Cava Mezze, one of my favorite place in DC.  There were 8 of us, and dinner was so much fun! We talked about TV, dating apps, and everything else under the sun.  I then went with Chloe to Meg’s house so we could watch Pretty Little Liars and The Vineyard (So obsessed, reason why to come in a different post).  It was great just spending time with my amazing friends!  

I once again was pushing my twitter campaign to have Rob Lowe wish me happy birthday.  Again this year, it did not work out, but my favorite Good Morning America anchor, Josh Elliott, came to my rescue again this year.  Thank you, Josh, for making my birthday so much more special!   

The real shocker of the week was my run in with Liam (See The Many Loves of my Life).  Well, if you can call seeing him at a bar and walking in the other direction as running into someone, then that is what happened.  I was at a place downtown that I never go.  Katie and I were there for a going away party for one of the boys, Mac, who is leaving for Officer Candidate School.  Of course, Mac is incredibly late for his own party.  I had just ordered a drink, was turning away from the bar to talk to Katie, and right over my shoulder I found Liam’s roommate Michael.  I used to really get along with Michael back in the day, so I felt the need to say hi, not even thinking that it probably meant Liam was also there.  Sure enough while we are exchanging pleasantries I see Liam from over his shoulder.  I kind of freeze and instead of saying hi to him, I tell Michael it was good to see him and walk away.  

I felt like I had just seen a ghost.  I had forgotten how tall he is, and I immediately regretted not having heels on.  I was so glad the loud music covered the booming coming from my chest.  I needed to breathe, and find a way to go say hello.  I had thought about this for months now, ever since I saw him at the metro.  I just knew we would rekindle our friendship if we just ran into each other.  Except the shock of seeing him again made it feel like friendship is not an option.  I don’t know how to talk to him anymore, or if he even wants to talk to me.  When he left 2 years ago I gave him a note that said, among other things, that I would always be there for him if he ever wanted my friendship again.  He hasn’t.  

When I finally got the nerve to go say hello, he was gone.  I missed my opportunity.  A gchat or email will never have the warmth needed to help choose to give someone another chance.  Looking someone in the eye and trying to remember why you were even mad in the first place, that is how you realize you're over something.  I walked away from my chance to get over him, or to be forgiven for whatever grave offense he believes I committed so many years ago.  

In many ways I am glad it happened this way.  For two years I have been holding on to a glimmer of hope that one day he might love me.  Months ago, when I spotted him at the metro, I feared that we might always be strangers in a crowd, now I know we are.  It is a painful reality.  I had hoped that seeing me might remind him of the amazing times we had as friends.  

My mother likes to say that Liam is a flawed man, but surprisingly, I don’t see it that way.  Although he shut me out, I know that Liam is a good man.  Good men are hard to find, and that is why knowing once and for all that our story has come to an end is so painful.  It hurts to have a good man choose to walk away, choose not to talk to you, and choose life without you.

Although this hurt, hurts, I still feel blessed!  As depressed as I got about turning a year older, I came out of it with a few very important truths about myself.  I am absolutely blessed with wonderful, caring friends who make me laugh, are there to talk, wipe my tears, and know when a cocktail is needed.  These people that fill my life are my family, and like family they love me for all of my quirks.  Also, I remembered the most important part, I am who I am and I love me for it.  My thighs will probably always rub together when I walk, and my arm may always wave back at me, but that is okay.  I do not need to change me to please other people.  The man that I am meant to be with with will love me exactly how I am.      

As you can see, last week I came full circle.  I know I am not always the most upbeat person, and on this blog I am very honest, and self-deprecating.  I do want all of you to know that I may not always be comfortable in my own skin, but I am getting there.  Thank you for taking this journey with me, and being apart of one of my many blessings.  

*Roller Coaster of Emotions(The Original)

Birthday Blues

How is it possible to love your life and be so sad at the same time?  I guess it is the birthday crisis setting in.  I am going to be a year older next week - 26.  I love my life, but then I see the lives of people with whom I grew up or went to college, and their lives seem great too.  Completely opposite, but wonderful still.  They are getting engaged, married, having babies: what I always thought I would be doing at this time in my life.  

Living in DC, I wouldn’t want to be married right now, but you step out of this bubble, and you see people all around you moving forward in life.  In DC, we move forward with our careers, but our personal lives are stuck in college.  We are all stuck in a dating cesspool, where people hook up and have “complicated things”, but it is rare to find something real and lasting.  I chose to build a life in a city where everyone postpones love to a more convenient time.

Somewhere in the last three years, I have evolved into something about which I am not sure.  I have allowed myself to morph from this Marilyn sex symbol that I was proud of to “Momma Bear”.  When did I become the sensible, put together one?  When did my life become nothing worth writing about?  I have struggled over the last several weeks to come up with something to share with all of you.  There have been no exciting stores of sexscapades or outragous nights.  There have been no new crushes or the potential of falling in love.  I have become uninteresting.  

My reality at 26 is that I have 4 different dating apps on my phone, and yet not been on a date with anyone from them.  I haven’t been in a serious relationship in a decade, haven’t had sex since Valentine’s Day, and haven’t had good sex since Stefan.  

There was a time when I was vivacious, confident, and unwavering.  When I left college I had found a comfort in myself, and in many ways it is still there, but the voices of the frat boys are creeping back in.  I hear them calling me “Bee’s Fat friend” all over again.  I was thinner back then.  I would kill to be that small again, and yet I let so many boys define me in such derogatory terms.  I let my own self worth be based on a bunch of drunk frat boys who wanted to keep me their dirty little secret.  I tried to leave that behind me, but even my relationship with D painted me as the dirty mistress.  Keeping me at arm’s length, and playing my own insecurities against me.    

One of the biggest things I can be proud of in the past year, besides getting an amazing job, is walking away from D.  Looking back on my Quarter life Crisis (my birthday last year), it was predominantly because of my relationship, or lack thereof, with him.  It was like coming up for air for the first time in a year and half.  What I didn’t realize was, that as long as I was hiding behind my feelings for D, I didn’t have to face the reality that I was become less desirable.  I am the kind of pretty that only gay men and other women appreciate.  Well dressed, hide my flaws well, hair and makeup always done.                   

As I prepare for my birthday party, I continue to worry about all the details.  My private party in the basement of my favorite Hill bar now carries the burden of being epic.  I need it to be epic.  I need the excitement.  I need to be reminded that I am not irrelevant in peoples lives.  I have decorations, a playlist, and Anna is making the cake.  My dress is picked out, I am getting my makeup done, and my crash diet is underway.  Even though I am sharing the night with Chance (against his protest), and most people are coming because of him, I want a moment to remember.  

Birthdays used to be one of my favorite things in the world.  It is the one day (or week) that the whole world has to celebrate you!  I loved getting older!  I couldn’t wait until I turned 30.  Now I see them for what they are - milestones of broken dreams.  A reminder of all the things you wanted to do but haven’t been able to.  A warning that you are getting older but you aren’t getting any smarter or (insert adjustive of your choice).  I never thought I would have the birthday blues.  

I know that Saturday will be fun, not because I need it to be, but because all the people that care about me will be there to help me celebrate.  I will be surrounded by love and lots and lots of shots.  Yes, I might not be the sexpot that I used to be, but I’m not 22 anymore either.  And that is ok.  It is ok to age gracefully, and to do a little growing up along the way.   

   

Caring: How to Stop

We spend so much of our lives worrying about what other people think.  I know I make myself physically sick sometimes worrying how other people perceive me, or thinking that I did something unpleasing to those I care about.  I worry about what the world thinks; I worry about rejection, sometimes so much so that the anxiety is overwhelming.  

I worry when my hair is not in place, and I don’t leave the house without makeup on.  I squeeze into Spanx everyday to make my curvaceous figure more appealing.  I worry that the number of men I have slept with is too high, and I also worry that no one will ever want to sleep with me again.  I worry that every time a boy kisses me, I am going to be added to his list of mistakes - the fat girl who he is ashamed he hooked up with.   

I worry about hurting my loved ones’ feelings, or being unable to please them.  I am a people-pleaser, so when someone rejects me, I look at it like I am unpleasing, I didn’t do what I am supposed to do.  As a Southern woman I feel that it is my job to make everyone feel welcomed, comfortable, and happy.  I want to be well-liked.  Not really out of ego, but out of anxiety.

Part of me has started to realize that I can’t please everyone.  I am human, and I make mistakes.  In trying to please the world, I have forgotten to please myself.  I am not saying I won’t take responsibility for my actions; I will apologize when I misbehave.  I just can not dwell on things I can’t change after an apology has been made.    

There is this movie that Anna and I are obsessed with caled “Bachelorette”.  (Spoilers to follow, kind of) It is a dark comedy starring Kirsten Dunst, Rebel Wilson, Isla Fisher, and Lizzy Caplan.  I have found my current life motto from this film.  If you know anything about the movie you might be like, “Really?”  Once you get past the cocaine, strippers, and outwardly fucked-up friendships/relationships, there is something deeper.  Really, it is the friendship between Kirsten Dunst’s character Regan and Rebel Wilson’s character Becky that brings about my new motto.  

At first, you think that Regan hates Becky, and you don’t realize why she is her maid of honor.  Becky (Rebel Wilson) is a heavier woman, and she is getting married to a smoking hot man.  It is obvious that Regan tries to be perfect, and her attempts come off as a cold hearted bitch, or maybe she is a cold hearted bitch.  She feels like she is the one who should be getting married, for several reasons that are not relevant here.  Then there is this moment when Becky catches Regan trying to purge because of stress, and you realize Becky and Regan share something much deeper.  They have a history.  In high school, Becky covered up for Regan’s bulimia and got upset when people spread rumors that it was her who was bulimic.  Regan had told her to “Fuck Everyone” and that was what Becky was telling her to do now.      

Right before Becky is about to walk down the aisle, she freaks out and says she can’t go through with it.  She looks at Regan and says, “Everyone thinks I am too fat to marry him.”  Regan grabs her by the shoulders, looked her dead in the eyes, and says “Fuck Everyone!”  

That’s it.  That is the key to finding my comfort and happiness - Fuck everyone!  Fuck the stupid jackass who, after weeks of flirting with me, told me he didn’t find me physically attractive.  Fuck the people at the state society picnic who looked at me like a leopard because I have put on 20 pounds since college.  Fuck D and the cloud of darkness he brought to my life for a year and a half.  Fuck the supposed friends who have alienated me, leaving me to feel unwanted and inadequate.  I have struggled with when to stop fighting to keep them and when to walk away.  Now is that time.  Too many people do want me in this world to focus on the ones who don’t.  Fuck the people who have or will ever call me fat.  I have spent too much time caring what the world thinks.  Too much time letting everyones’ opinions of me dictate who I am going to be.  Now is the time to worry about me - my wants, my needs, and what makes me happy!  Because I deserve to be happy.  I have not always thought that I did, but I know now I really do.                    

The Run In

Just because I have chosen to forget D doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist (unfortunately).  For the first time since I walked away from him, for the first time since April 23rd, I saw him.  My heart stopped.  It didn’t flutter like it used to; it just paused, waiting for my brain to tell it how to proceed.  

My first thought was that his hair was too shaggy.  Then I averted my eyes.  I didn’t let myself take him in, study his appearance.  I couldn’t let myself look long enough to feel the attraction that I know still lingers.  Even though I tried not to look at him, I could feel his presence.  I didn’t want him there.  The bar was not big enough for both of us, but I wouldn’t leave just because he was there.  I could feel his eyes on me, something I used to crave, but now this attention angers me.  He isn’t allowed to make me feel anxious anymore, he isn’t supposed to unnerve me.      

I was having fun before he walked in.  I was flirting with Bama, laughing with Anna, Hadley, and Katie.  I couldn’t let him faze me.  I wouldn’t let him get in my head because I am done with his games.  I wanted to make him jealous?  No, jealous isn’t the right word, jealousy requires feelings.  I wanted him to see me happy, not so he would want me, but so he would know that I am happy without him.  I wanted him to know he did not wreck me, not completely.  

I used it as an excuse to flirt with Bama.  I recruited him for the mission and we gave D something to watch.  If he was going to stare, the least we could do was give him a show.  We took too many shots, I told Bama I had a crush on him, and I don’t remember what he said back.  I remember the feeling of his touch though.  His hands lingering on my sides, mine on his chest.  They were feelings, moments that I wish I could have had without the pretenses of D.    

Maybe D still affects me more than I am willing to admit, but as long as he didn’t realize it, that is all that mattered that night.  I really don’t want him anymore, and really don’t want him to want me.  I get sad when I think of all the time I wasted chasing him, chasing a shell of a man that only brought me darkness.  I never realized how heavy my feelings for him weighed on my heart until they finally went away.  

No, I didn’t like being in a room with him.  Yes, it made me anxious and uncomfortable.  But then who is ever really comfortable when they are in a room with someone who broke their heart?

Bye Bye Bama

Two weeks.  All I have is two weeks to get Bama to kiss me.  He is leaving, moving back to Alabama.  My crush smothered just as it was beginning.  I had thought about what it would be like to flirt with him all summer.  To dance with him on some hot dance floor in the wee hours of a summer morning.  To splash around in a pool fully aware of when our bare skin would touch.  To kiss on my rooftop under the summer stars.  

Now if I do any of those things, it will be with someone that right now is nameless and faceless.  It won’t be with Bama, the boy whose crystal blue eyes have been haunting my fantasies since the day we met.  How do you say goodbye when you have barely finished saying hello?  

More so, I am sad for Hadley, who is losing one of her best friends.  It is so sudden.  Two weeks is all anyone gets.  It’s not even enough time to throw a party.  Goodbye parties aren’t really for the people they are thrown for.  The are for the friends of the person leaving, so they can make one last memory and smother their feelings with booze and cake.  Cake can solve just about anything, and if cake can’t solve it, surely booze can.  

One of the worst parts about living in DC is the fact that 50% of the people you meet won’t stay here.  Washington, for many people, is a pit stop necessary to the life they want somewhere else.  People come for a few years and get tired of the cutthroat mentality, so they head back to wherever home is.  Sometimes when people leave, you see it coming, and other times the news is like a sucker punch to the gut.  I consider myself a lifer.  When I look into the future, I don’t see myself anywhere else.  That is why it is hard for me to understand why some people choose to go back home because this is my home now.  

Now, I need to figure out my plan, come up with a strategy.  I only have two weeks before Bama heads back to the south, back to the world where only old people find me attractive.  I hate the idea of not being able to get what I want, and I want Bama.  I want to run my fingers through his hair and my hands along his muscular back.  I don’t want to have to imagine what kind of kisser he is; I want to know.  So, I need a plan.  Really, I just need to get myself in a room with him. I like to think that I have enough game that I can make moves, or hope that if in a room with me, he might want to make some moves of his own.   

It is funny how things change so quickly.  Just last week Bama was a symbol for possibility, and now he is bringing out desperation.  Possibility now has limits, a time restraint, a ticking clock slowly diminishing the free feeling of hope.  In the end, adding Bama to the long list of crushes that never reached their potential.

Crush or be Crushed

A crush can be one of the most exciting and most terrifying things in the whole world.  A simple look from someone you are crushing on can make your whole world light up.  They also can disappoint you more than anyone else.  We often build pedestals to place our crushes on.  The higher we place them, the harder they can fall, taking our expectations crashing down with them.  

My friend Anna and I are in two very different stages of crush, but both are relevant.  I am in the giddy new crush phase.  You know, you can’t get the boy out of your head, and you try to orchestrate ways to run into him, all while looking your best.  Let’s call this new boy Bamma for now because his crystal blue eyes derive from the great state of Alabama.  I could swoon just thinking about his slightly shaggy dark hair that looks so touchable that I can’t help but want to run my fingers through it.  

Bamma is trouble.  He is all pearly whites, witty remarks, and a southern drawl that could melt butter.  He is trouble because he is so swoon worthy.  Did I mention he gives the best hugs?  The long, tight bear hug kind in which every part of you is touching - a true embrace.  I think, just maybe, he might kind of like me too.  I could be wrong.  He is probably just a flirt, but I prefer to be optimistic.  See, that is the thing about a crush before they crush you, they are the definition of possibility.  

Anna on the other hand is recovering from the fall, the crushing realization that your cute boy of choice is a complete ass.  This happens in all different ways: their undisclosed girlfriend comes into the picture; they say something really terrible to you; they turn out to be a bad kisser/ bad in bed; or in Anna’s case they are both bad in bed and a complete ass wipe.  Long story short (since it is not my story to tell), Anna had been flirting for weeks with the very cute boy in the outer circle of our circle of friends.  Finally, Friday night he made a move, and, with my encouragement, (I literally jumped up and down clapping in the bathroom) she decided to see if her crush was all he was cracked up to be.  

It wasn’t the glorious, romantic encounter that we all think about having with our crush.  It wasn’t hot, steamy, and dirty either.  He was lazy, unengaged, and didn’t stay the night.  He was the definition of a douche bag.  We had all taken his quiet demeanor as him being shy, when really he just was too much of a tool to have anything to talk about.  

So, as I am riding my euphoric high of crushing hard, Anna is dealing with the aftermath of disappointment.  The thing is, I know I am probably setting myself up for the same thing Anna is going through, yet I am excited about Bamma anyway.  I have been crushed by the disappointment of many cute boys in my day, but I still let myself get giddy and excited.  Some people say it isn’t worth the risk, but I have to disagree.  I would rather continue to be open, because one of these days, one of these boys, is going to work out.  When that day comes it will all be worth it.  Is that boy Bamma?  Who knows!?! Maybe, maybe not.  All I know is I am willing to take the risk.  

Strangers Now?

It is amazing how someone who has long since been gone out of your life can still take your breath away.  It has been almost 2 years since I have had a real conversation with Liam (see The Many Loves of My Life ) and a over a year since I have even seen his face.  Yet, when I saw him ride past me on the escalator of the metro, my heart stopped.  I wasn’t even sure if he still lived in DC until that very moment - when time seemed to stand still.  

He didn’t see me.  I am not sure he would have talked to me had he seen me.  I had started to forget how much I loved him.  It had been months since I had even thought about him.  But all it took was 5 seconds, just a glance, and everything came flooding back.  I don’t know that anyone else has ever looked at me the way he used to.  His crystal blue eyes had a way of telling me his every thought, especially when he thought I looked pretty.  I have never felt more beautiful in my whole life than when that tall, kind, stunningly handsome man told me how pretty I looked, because his eyes always told me that he meant it.  It is hard to realize you are just another face in the crowd to someone who used to be the only person who really saw you.  

As I stepped off the escalator and made my way home, I was so flustered I could barely eat dinner.  My hands were shaking, and all my friends were off playing softball on the many fields scattered across the Mall.  I went to the bar, hoping a cocktail would clear Liam from my mind.  One cocktail led to two, and after two who was still counting?  I became a huge flirt (what’s new?) and just needed  to be seen.  I needed someone I wanted to pay attention to me.  As I flirted my way through several of my mini crushes at our regular bar, I felt myself start to settle back into myself.  My life is great.  I am great without Liam.  

When a boy I have grown quite fond of got really flirty by the jukebox, I naturally flirted back, even though I shouldn’t have.  He is roommates with one of my best friends.  I am over at his house ALL the time, yet that didn’t stop me.  The brush of his arm against mine, his hand on my waist - it was intoxicating, and I was already intoxicated.  When I said I was going home, he insisted on walking me.  I like to be walked home when I think the boy has romantic intentions.  I was dying to be kissed.  Valentine’s Day was a long time ago, and, after seeing, Liam I needed to feel something, anything but missing him.  He kissed me, a sweet gentle kiss.  We kept kissing for what seemed like an hour by the back door to my building.  

It was sweet, and I didn’t really want it to stop.  It wasn’t hot though.  I want a hot, passionate, a little rough, can’t-breathe-without-you kind of kiss.  I want a weak-in-the-knees, you-will-never-think-of-kissing-anyone-else-kind of kiss.  

I want too much.  I want what I can’t have.  I am all in knots.  If just passing Liam on the metro can make me this big of a mess, I don’t even want to know what having a conversation with him would do.  Maybe I will never find out.  It has been so long already, maybe our lives will never cross paths again.  We are probably just supposed to be faces in the crowd to one another, a distant memory of what once was.  

Young, Wild, and Free

As summer approaches and the air gets warmer I find myself more likely to take risks. To let go of my inhibitions and accept the fact that although I am not 21 anymore I am still young, I can still be wild, and I am free.  I can flirt with a 22 year old if I want to.  I can close the neighborhood bar with my friends on the weekends and not feel bad.  I can drink beer in peoples backyards and enjoy the beautiful weather.    

For the first time in a long time I don’t feel the pressures of getting older weighing heavily on me.  I don’t feel the pressure to get married looming over my head.  I feel like it is ok to be 25 (almost 26) and not settled down.  Don’t get me wrong, I am an adult with a great job and a clean, well kept apartment.  I just now know that I don’t have to be sad that I haven’t found my soulmate.  That it is ok to look forward to beach trips that will revel college spring breaks; spiked watermelons and boozey popsicles: and Sunday-fun-days with the “Family.”

With Memorial Day, the unofficial start of summer, passed us I have decided to make my summer check list.  These are the things I want to do or should do, because it is too soon to give up on being fun.

 

• Make a Flabongo … don’t know what that is? Let me show you!

 

• Get a wonderful golden tan!
• Enjoy wonderful Boozy Watermelons every chance I get!

• Make tons of Summer Play List for all different reasons: Beach Mix, Dance Mix, Backyard Mix, Pool Mix, Bar Mix … I want all the music!
• Grill out as much as possible and grill everything!  Whole meals from the Grill!
  
• Have a summer fling!  I mean a fun, care-free romance with someone that will never make it once the rays of summer fade.  I want something exciting, simple, and great while it lasts.  
• Go on lots of adventures …. anything from White Water Rafting, tubing down a river, hiking (not likely), and I don’t know just ADVENTURES!!!!
• Do a power hour with my friends!  I haven’t done one of these since college, but what says young and wild like this crazy drinking game?  (we won’t discuss the Hangovers and how not young they make me feel afterwards)
• Make lasting memories!  I want this summer to be one for the record books, one that I will tell my kids about someday (when they are like 30).  

Let the epic summer begin!  It is time for me to stop acting like my life is already over, and start living it!