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!    

Bama Boy with a Texas Name

Hi strangers!  I am coming out of blog hibernation and have so much to share with all of you!  I am sorry for my disappearance.  I have been completely wrapped up in work, but do not fear.  I am back, and I have stories to share.  

I could tell you all about being a bridesmaid in my younger cousin’s wedding, and how Conner saved me by being my date.  Or I could gush about road tripping to Miss America with Lisa, Elle, and Lilly.  The ups and downs of friendship is another topic I could go on about.  I could tell you about my nervous breakdown, and how I am trying to overcome it.  But instead I am going to talk about something so much more exciting.  I am going to tell you about the new boy, well, man really.   

I am smitten.  This guy is the most beautiful boy who has ever been interested in me.  He is classically good looking, with a strong jaw, gorgeous blue eyes, and a little bit of gray starting to peek through around his temples.  His southern accent could melt butter with it’s warm smooth tone.  I could listen to him all day.  

We met a few weeks back at a Thursday night happy hour.  I was about to head home when a casual acquaintance of mine flagged me down from across the bar.  I had already noticed the tall, broad-shouldered, handsome friend he was talking to.  I made my way over just to be introduced to Houston.  Houston had asked for the introduction, and I have never been so flattered in my life.  Flirtation came easy between the two of us, and the way his lips curled and eyes lit up, I knew it to be genuine.  

He just moved to DC from LA a few months ago, but he grew up in Alabama. There is something about Alabama boys.  They are more beautiful than Georgia boys, and a 100 times sweeter than Mississippi boys.  They are still Southern, so of course they are trouble, but Alabama boys are never truly trouble on purpose.    And if they are, it is the good kind of trouble, the sexy pull-you-into-a coat-closet kind of trouble.  

Well, Houston got my number the night we met but hadn’t used it since.  I had been busy so with work and the trip to Atlantic City, so I hadn’t really noticed.  Okay, that is a lie.  I had noticed, but I wouldn’t have been able to do anything even if he had asked me out.  

This past weekend Bee, my college roommate and best friend, made a last minute trip to DC.  It was her first time here, even though I have been in DC for almost 3 years.  I was so excited to show her my city, introduce her to my friends, and most importantly, just get to spend time with her.  I took her to my Thursday happy hour after she landed, and I struggled through my Friday at work while she watched Netflix at my apartment.  Friday night we hit H Street, and Saturday, toured the monuments and the Smithsonians.  Saturday night I took Bee to a late dinner at Cava Mezze, one of my favorite places in the city.  While sipping drinks and gorging ourselves on delicious food she convinced me to send Houston a text and see what he was up to.   And so the fun begins.

He responded promptly, and I could have floated away due to the butterflies in my stomach.  He was watching SEC football, like every good Southern boy does on a fall Saturday.  He asked what our plans were and I told him we were still trying to figure that out and asked if he had any suggestions.  Bee and I ended up at my neighborhood bar because the rain was just too nasty to venture very far.  Just when we were about to call it a night my phone buzzed and it was none other than Mr. Houston wondering if we were still out and about.  

As he and his roommate made their way from Glover Park to meet up with us my nerves started to kick in.  What if I am not what he remembers, or if he likes Bee more than me? It took ages for them to show, and they walked up as we were getting shuffled out of the bar.  I invited them back to my place to hang out with us, a decision Bee and I had previously agreed on.  Damn, he looked good in his perfectly worn jeans and ostrich skin boots.

I played bartender as we goofed off, telling stories and getting to know each other.  Houston interrupted the conversation at one point to say that hadn’t told me yet, but I looked really pretty tonight.  SWOON!  He also made several comments about thinking my voice was incredibly sexy, saying I could tell him bedtime stories.  Funny thing is I feel the same way about his southern drawl.  His roommate was macking on Bee hard, and she really wasn’t feeling it.  I have never seen her half-ass flirting the way she was.  It was hilarious, to me at least.  

Somehow we came to the decision to head up to my roof.  I said I would meet everyone up there so I could use the restroom.  Houston stayed too and the moment the front door closed he grabbed me, pushing me against my closet door, and kissed me roughly and passionately.  I was almost dizzy from the heat between us.  We made out like teenagers, but better.  Teenagers don’t know how sexy it is to pin your arms above your head, or that passion doesn’t have to be sloppy, but blurred lines are the best kind.  

Every time he touched me, it was with hungry hands and hungrier lips.  It didn’t matter if it was waiting for the elevator, in the elevator, or pushed up against the door leading to the roof where our friends were just on the other side, it was steamy.  My imagination goes wild thinking about what, how, and where things would have happened had our friends not been there.   

Unfortunately, Bee and I had to send them on their way around 5:30am.  My studio can’t hold 4 people and Bee had more than fulfilled her best friend duties of taking one for the team.  Houston said we would hang out again soon, and I am crossing my fingers and toes that I hear from this one.

Bee and I had a great rest of the weekend.  We met an old college friend at the zoo, I cooked dinner, and we watched the Emmy’s (Best and Worst Dressed to come).  It was great having her here, and my apartment felt so empty when she left.  Everything with Bee is so effortless, we never get sick of each other, and she knows me better than anyone in the world.  Now that she is done with law school it has crossed my mind to move home.  We could live together again, and it would be like nothing has changed.  But everything has changed, maybe not our friendship, but I have.  So much has happened to me over the past 3 years, good and bad.  I have a life here, and although I am not always happy, I know home would never be enough for me ever again.  I can’t run away because things get hard here, or I get scared.  I am right where I belong, and who knows, maybe this new Bama boy will be another reason to stay.  

18th Amendment ... the End of an Era

When most people here 18th Amendment they think of Prohibition.  For me 18th Amendment has another meaning.  I think of a bar on Pennsylvania Avenue in SouthEast DC.  A bar that I am sad to say closed its doors this weekend.    

18th Amendment is hallowed ground.  It is where so much of my first years in DC were lived.  For a long time, it was the place where every exciting moment of my life took place.  Every Thursday many Hill staffers made their way to 18th to sing karaoke and drink cheap Miller High Life.  Many of my friendships in this city were made at 18th Amendment over a song, a High Life, or a late night shrimp poboy.  It used to be great, I used to be great when I hung out there.  

The Harper of 18th Amendment was bold, sassy, and empowered.  It was in those walls that I did some of my very best flirting.  I made out with several cute boys there.  I danced even if no one else was because I wanted to.  I sang many terrible songs, with groups of friends, and didn’t care that my voice can make cats cry.  This is where I learned to shoot Jameson like a pro and realized that it was sexy to do so.   

It wasn’t all cocktails and good times.  Life hit me pretty hard a few times while sitting in that bar.  We were at 18th Amendment the night D told me he had a girlfriend.  After shit hit the fan, I sat at the bar and drowned my sorrows with Vicki and Deek.  The night several months later, when D got jealous, and told me he didn’t like seeing me with anyone else, the conversation that ruined our functioning friendship took place at 18th.  When I lost my job, 18th Amendment is where I went to drink away the disappointment.   

I haven’t been by in months; I don’t think any of the old group has.  Somewhere along the way, life happened.  We got more responsibility, and we had to give things up.  People grow apart, and the places you used to go together lose their luster.  I have thought about stopping by a million times, but something always seems to come up.  Never did I think that there would be a day that 18th wouldn’t be there. In my mind, Vicki would always be ready to pour me a shot and tell me that all my problems lie in my poor taste in men.     

I want to pay homage to one of the places that helped shape me and my life in this city.  If the walls of 18th Amendment could talk, I am sure they would have some great stories to tell, and several of them involving me.     

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?

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!