Letter to My Future

As I have watched my parents relationship fracture and crumble, I have seen the man my father truly is.  As the lies are exposed and the rose colored glasses are removed, I wonder if I will ever be able to trust a man fully again.  How do I continue to believe in love when my example of love is broken?  Somehow I still have hope that someone is out there for me, and if they are, I have a few things to say to them.   

Hello,

I am not sure if you are out there looking for me, or if we have already met.  Maybe you are still sowing your wild oats, and that is ok.  When we make our way to each other I want you to be ready.  We won’t be young and stupid or trapping each other.  I want us to choose each other.  I want you to see my flaws with open eyes and love me because I am not perfect, not in spite of it.   

Be forewarned, I come with baggage.  I have spent my life being an afterthought for the men in my life, neglected and ignored.  Make me a priority, because you will always be my priority.  Hold my hand when we are walking through a crowd so that I never feel lost.  Never hush me or try to dampen my light because you never want me to feel small. Learn the small things about me, like how I take my coffee or what I want on my hamburger.  Those small everyday things are more important than the big romantic gestures to me.  I would rather you really know me than have the big social media worthy moments.

Accept my eccentricity, they are what make me interesting and who I am.  It took me a long time to not hide behind pearls, a southern accent , and a smile.  I am not ashamed of my fandoms, or all the cat pictures on my phone.  Embrace the things that bring me joy, even if you don’t understand them.  I will always embrace the things that make you you.  Make an effort to get to know my friends; they are my chosen family and aren’t going anywhere.     

It doesn’t all fall on you.  I promise to tell you how I feel instead of internalizing things.  I will listen and pay attention to you, because what you say matters to me.  Laughter will be something I strive for with you every day because I want you to be my best friend. I know we have both been independent for a long time and will respect that we need our own space.  I never want us to lose who we are as individuals just because we are together as a couple.     

I am waiting for you because I know our love will be worth it.  I won’t settle for someone else out of fear you might not come or impatience that you are taking too long.  Actually, I will never let fear or insecurities drive our relationship.  I have watched what fear of being alone can do to a marriage over 38 years.  We will not be my parents. I will remember you are not my father.  

While I wait, I will let life happen, but know I am ready when you are.  

Until we find each other,

H   

Tinder Failure

I have come to a conclusion that is undeniably sad - I am bad at online dating.  I, Harper Waverly, am a Tinder failure.  I do not know how people develop real life relationships based off of a profile with all the best pictures of themselves and an unrealistic assessment of how many times they drink/work-out a week.  In person I dazzle, but via dating app, I am a complete flop.  

I don’t know how to be witty without being too flirty, to show interest without coming off as only wanting to hook up.  Part of the dilemma is the pervy mindset of the opposite sex when they message me on said dating apps.  When trying not to give the wrong impression, I fear I come off as boring.  It’s disheartening to try to get to know someone before deciding to meet up, and be met with radio silence. It’s important to figure out where you are from, whether you went to college, and if you’re basically a normal human being and not a serial killer.

Some of it might be that I really don’t know how to be flirty without being sexy (See Bombshell), especially in messages.  Maybe that says something about me as a person, and the types of guys I attract.  I also believe that guys push the envelope with curvy women because many of them expect us to have lower self-esteem, and therefore have lower standards.  I could show you several examples of the same guy asking a thinner girl on a date and a curvy girl to his bed.  Also, it’s unbelievable how stupid some guys will talk to two girls at one time when the girls are in each others’ pictures.              

If one more guy starts off with “DTF?”, I might explode.  I guess it is men just playing the odds, but in all honesty, I don’t know what self-respecting girl actually responds to that.  Maybe it is just me, but if you really want to “make my panties drop” then take me to drinks or dinner and engage me in meaningful conversation.  Ask questions about me, and at least pretend to care about the answers.  In short, be a man, not some douchy boy-man-lazy-pervert whose idea of making an effort is sending an uber.  

I know many of you are probably thinking, come on it’s Tinder what do you expect.  And some of you are probably wanting to remind me of my own Tinder Adventures, but my mindset has changed.   But I am asking how else am I suppose to meet someone?  Match.com?  I tried that, and men are just as shallow there, so I threw away money for 6 months with no dates.  The old fashioned way?  Well, if you can explain to me how this even relates to our society today then sure I would give it a shot.  I know happy couples who met through Tinder. Apparently it worked for them, so why not me?  

As bad as I am at Tinder, I am going to keep trying.  Why you ask?  Well, I don’t really have any other option do I?  I will never meet anyone if I don’t put myself out there.  Getting a match is a bit of a confidence boost, even if 90% of my matches never talk to me.  At the very least I have seen some of the most hilarious/ disturbing pick up lines, of which I have screenshots for future entertainment.  A friend of mine put it best when she said, “It feels like we have two options, Tinder or dying alone.”  So, Tinder it is   

The Good Out Weighs the Bad

Some days, you just like the way your dress fits, or the way your hair is laying.  Some days, you just feel 100% comfortable in your own skin.  These days are few and far between for me, especially during bathing suit season, but today is one of those days.  Maybe it is the fact that a cute boy from Tinder asked me out on a date.  Maybe it is how completely comfortable I am in my new job, and that happiness is spilling over.  Maybe it is the fact that I am feeling so blessed by the amazing friends I have surrounded myself with.  Friends that believe in judgement-free, unconditional support.  

More likely than not it is the cute boy.  Let’s call him Mr. South America, since he spends half his time there for work.  He is cute, taller than me when I wear heels, and constantly tells me how pretty I am.  I think most men underestimate the power of a compliment as simple as telling a girl you think she is pretty or beautiful.  “God, you're gorgeous” at random will make a girl melt, at least this girl.  Mr. South America and I met for late drinks and the chemistry was there immediately.  He made me laugh, so basically he found the two ways to melt my ever hardening heart, appeal to my vanity and my sense of humor. I broke my rule and let him kiss me in the bar, and stay the night on a first date.  Our sleepover was tame, clothed, and limited to making out and cuddling.  He only got the invite because we drank too much for him to drive home.  He wants to see me again when he gets back from South America in 2 weeks, and that excites me.  

I need it, a good date, a guy that actually wants to spend time with me, someone that makes it easier to love myself.  The creeps, users, and heartbreakers have been in full force lately.  There is the Facebook Messenger, who, after not seeing me for over a year, thinks I will just invite him over to have sex.  Which is even worse than the Saturday Morning Texter.  I am not 22 anymore.  I want more than a booty call.  It isn’t that I want more from either of them, just in general, I want more than that.  I don’t want a boy that makes me feel like the only thing I am good for is my ass or my nice rack.  Yes, maybe it is my own fault that one of them thinks his messages are ok.  Over the years when the loneliness is all consuming and the text arrives, the need to be touched overcomes my need for something more.  I have even been the instigator, sending a text or two of my own.  I have let it go on for so long, probably because once upon a time, I had feelings for him.  Once upon a time, I thought he and I could have had something real.         

The worst is Mr. Martini, who definitely deserves a martini thrown in his face.  I don’t begrudge him for meeting someone else that he is “head over heels for,” but I do begrudge him telling me in a text message.  I loathe him for acting interested, when he never really was.  I wish I could have back the hours of texting about movies, tv, and everything else we have in common.  It isn’t that he broke my heart, but more that he reminded me that I am too often the girl before “THE Girl.”  

I don’t know that things with Mr. South America are going to work out.  But I do know that he has already treated me with more respect than the above listed three.  Instead of feeding on my insecurities, he reminds me of my beauty.  I don’t need a boy telling me I am pretty to know I am pretty, but it sure helps to not have one pointing out your flaws.  My life is great, and today I am appreciating the good.  As frustrated as I get with all the boy drama, I know that its is the assholes, creeps, and heartbreakers that help me know when something is truly good.         

Perfect?

The moment that someone leans in and kisses you for the first time is a moment of pure unadulterated romance. I am not talking about the boy that drunkenly, sloppily kisses you after a tequila shot. I am talking about the guy that walks you home just to make sure you get there safe. When that guy leans in and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips your heart skips a beat. The sounds of a mellow indie rock love song play in your head.  Every first kiss like that seems like possibly the beginning.  

Unfortunately not every kiss is the beginning, and not every romantic moment is part of a greater romance.  Sometimes a moment is just that: fleeting, insignificant, and forgettable.  Romance can be falsely manufactured for a boy’s own purpose.  Hope can be given as a means to an end.  

When the other shoe drops and the moments of pure ecstasy are revealed as purely moments of convenience, your heart breaks.  Not because you were in love, but it breaks that the possibility of love is no longer there.  Being disappointed by someone you have pined over, been sweet talked by, can make another tiny piece of your heart harden.  How long until your whole heart is cold and hard?  

My heart breaks because I am just as far from finding a relationship, a partner, love than I was a week ago, maybe even further away.  Maybe it is because I don’t know how to reconcile the romantic side of me with the sensual side.  How do I be the bombshell with a heart?  If I am one, they want the other.  I don’t know how to shake my sense of inadequacy when every corner I turn, I am being told I am not good enough for something or someone.  All I want in life is to be not just enough for someone, but to be someone’s own idea of perfect.  

I have spent so much of my life trying to please everyone, to be perfect and put together, hiding behind makeup and clothes.  I will never be perfect, because the reality is I am a mess.  But there is someone out there that will think that my neurotic, obsessive, nerdy tendencies make me their own idea of perfect.  

Besides, that guy, that I believe is looking for me too, I have to learn to see myself as MY OWN idea of perfect.  I have to love my curves and the fact that my hair will never grow long.  I have to adore the fact that one of my eyes gets droopy when I have had too much to drink, and that my left knee will always hurt when it rains.   I have to stop chastising myself for not being what I think I should be.  There are some things about myself I can never change, and those are the things that make me unique, the things that make me Harper.

Instead of trying to be what I think will attract romance, I need to be me.  Maybe then, instead of a fleeting moment, I will find my great romance.            

What Does Forever Look Like?

The thing about moving on, truly moving on, the- “I don’t give a shit about you anymore” and meaning it-moving on, is realizing that their face is not going to be the one you will spend the rest of your life with.  All the thoughts, plans, and dreams you had about your lives together are irrelevant.  You have to start over, and this leaves me with so many questions.   

What will my forever look like? Will he be tall and broad, or my height, standing eye to eye? Will his eyes be kind or sultry, brown or blue?  Will he be a bookworm or a jock? Will his hair be short or something I can run my fingers through? Where will we meet? Maybe I already know him. Will our first kiss be sweet and tender or drunk and sloppy? Will we be the kind of couple who holds hands just so we can be touching or the kind who keep our hands to ourselves in public?  Will we fight just to be able to make up? Whose place will we stay more, his or mine? Will we be a couple that loves to hit the town or the kind that likes quiet nights at home?

I also have so many hopes for what he, what we, will be like.  I hope he touches my face when he kisses me. I hope he thinks I look equally as beautiful in a t shirt or all dolled up. I hope he will be adventurous with me both in and out of the bedroom. I hope he will challenge me to be the best version of myself.  I hope he will stand up for me when I need it, but know when I have my battles under control. I hope we can trust each other, and I mean real, unconditional trust. I hope we are supportive of each other, both our careers and our dreams.  I hope he won't mind if I write about him, us, my thoughts on it all.  I hope he gets along with my brother, and understands with me, you also get my family.  I hope that we become friends with each other's friends, but most importantly be each other's best friend.  

I want all the stages in between where I am now and consuming love.  I want the sparkling eye contact when you first meet.  The giddy feeling when he texts you for the first time.  I want the first date jitters and the heat of a truly great first kiss.  You know, the kind of kiss that makes you weak in the knees, that makes you need to stabilize yourself on whatever is available, but mainly just hold on to him, never wanting to let go.  I want one of those kisses that is so great that years later you still think back on that particular kiss, that moment that you lost yourself in someone else.  I want the butterflies, my heart beating too fast feeling the first time he calls you his girlfriend, and the all consuming relief and joy the first time he says, “I love you.”  

I have questions, hopes, and wants for my life and the person I someday choose to share it with.  There is no way of knowing when or where we will meet, but maybe that is the fun part.  I sometimes become so cynical and jaded when it comes to love, but at heart, I am a hopeless romantic.  I do believe there is someone out there for me, someone wonderful who isn’t going to make me jump through hoops to be with them.  

I may question how it is all going to play out and hope for a lot of things, but there are some things I know without a doubt.  The person that I will spend forever with will be kind, understanding, and brave.  He won’t run away from love, or hide from possibility.  He will never make me feel inadequate.  I know my forever will be better than my past.  

Right the First Time

Facebook is a landmine of engagement and wedding pictures from people from all stages of my life.  On any given day, these pictures can evoke many different emotions - joy, jealousy, disgust.  Am I, a known hopeless romantic, turning into a cynic?   

I get the most frustrated when I see someone my age or a little older getting married for the second time.  How did they get not just one , but two people to commit to them?  I know I am ignoring that their first marriage didn’t work, but that first person loved them enough to attempt the greatest leap of faith.  That counts for something in my book.

I only want to get married once.  I want to get it right the first time.  I want to know, without a doubt, that the person I marry is the only person I could ever think of waking up to everyday for the rest of forever.  I know everyone enters marriage with these same hopes.  I do think that some of the people I know have given up on their marriages too easily.  They rushed in or fell prey to an ultimatum, and they weren’t ready.  They didn’t fight to make it work.  Things got hard and they called it quits.  Marriage is not for the faint of heart.  Sharing your life with another person is one of the most difficult things any of us will ever do.  Letting them in to your heart, your mind, and your bathroom is a whole new level of vulnerable.  

I am glad I didn’t get married at 22.  I am not the same person I was then.  It’s not like I had the opportunity to anyway.  Nonetheless, I am glad that is not the path that life took me down.  I needed to know me to be able to share myself with another human being.  My parents got married very young.  Although my parents are still happily married, my mother stressed the need to let myself grow up before I chose to spend my life with someone else.    

I am not sure how one ends up getting married anyway.  I can’t even get a guy to buy me dinner, much less shell out the money for a ring.  I know that it is suppose to go something like: girl meets boy, boy asks out girl, boy and girl date for a while, boy buys a ring, and girl says yes.  My question is, how do you actually make that happen.  How do you get a guy to ask you to dinner?  How do you keep them interested?  

A guy once told me that I have too much personality to keep a guy interested unless I was sleeping with him. I took great offense to that, but part of me wonders if it is true.  Is the reason why I am single the fact that I am too neurotic?  I have always said I don’t settle, but the more I look at the men of my past I realize that is all I have ever done.  I have settled for fucked up, non-relationship relationships.  I have been in love with men who have made it very clear that I will never be their priority, and they will never care about me the way that I deserve.  

I want to get it right the first time, but what if marriage is not in the cards for me?  What if I am not meant to share my life with someone?  I like to think I would make an amazing wife someday.  I have a list of reasons why someone should want to marry me:
1) I am a good cook.
2) I am great with kids.
3) Parents love me.
4) I like sports.
5) I am pretty.

This is not exhaustive but hits the key points.  Aren’t these the things that men are looking for in a person they want to marry?  If not, they should be.  

Part of the problem is that every man I have met, who has been the kind of person that I would want to spend the rest of my life with, has never available.  I want someone that doesn’t mind that I talk A LOT, in fact, they should actually enjoy it.  He should be supportive and encouraging of my writing, and whatever other crazy dream I decide to latch onto.  He should love Christmas and family traditions, and want to make some of our own.  He must love television or at least put up with my extensive television schedule.  I want the small things, the things that are the real make or break points, the things that most people overlook.  To me, these are the things that make a marriage last the test of time.  

So, I am going to keep waiting to meet that person who is willing to take the greatest leap of faith with me.  I will wait as long as it takes because I will get it right the first time.

The Games We Play ...

In the early stages of a relationship, things are always complicated before you DTR. I think it’s because both parties are playing games.  You ask yourself, “Who should text who first?  How long is too long without hearing from him?  When should I push for more?”  Of course, it’s still very early with Stefan, and, of course, I find myself asking these very questions.

I hate the games we play when we are infatuated with someone.  Unfortunately, I find myself playing them more often than I like to admit.  I have resisted the urge to text someone when I wanted to because I was supposed to “let him text me first.” I have purposely made men jealous as a power play in our relationships.  I have even used a guys reaction to specific scenario as a test of how much they care.

I enjoy spending time with Stefan when we actually end up getting together.  When we are together, it’s as if nobody else is in the room.   I have never felt more wanted, or sexier, than when Stefan can’t keep his hands off of me.  When I am laying tucked into the nook of his arm, I feel so safe, so at home.  I never thought I would meet a guy that loves staying up talking as much as I do.  The problem is the games we play.

I rarely hear from him during the week.  Is he playing hard to get, or am I just being kept around to fulfill his carnal desires?  Our time between the sheets is definitely worth coming back for, but I would like to know that I cross his mind in the middle of the week from time to time.  He never makes definite plans too far ahead of time, so I occasionally feel the need to not be available, even if I am just sitting on my couch.  

When we like someone, why do we put them through the ringer? Is it just so we don’t appear to be the one that cares more?  All I want is, for once, someone to be frank with me.  I would prefer someone to say, “I like having sex with you, but I don’t want to date you” to stringing me along for 3, 4, 5 weeks. It is better to know, than to build hope and feelings for someone who doesn’t reciprocate.  On the other hand, why can’t people just say, “I like you.  I enjoy spending time with you.  I don’t know what that means yet, but I want to figure it out.”  

I have said it before, and I will say it again - I am not looking for the love of my life in Stefan.  I am not even sure if I am looking for a boyfriend.  For the first time in my life, I am just letting things play out.  I just wish we could eliminate the games.  How is anyone ever supposed to find happiness with someone if all we ever do is play games?

The Many Loves of My Life ...

While watching an episode of a bad 90s WB show, one of the characters posed a question that really got me thinking.  The question was, “How many times have you been in love?”.  My wheels started to turn.  For me, that is not an easy question to answer.  There are several people I thought I loved at the time, and maybe I did, but looking back, I am not sure it was really love.  For the sake of an entertaining blog post, I have decided to share with you the many boys I have loved.  

Daniel: The High School Boyfriend
Daniel was my first, and actually only, boyfriend.  We dated for two years.  I was a 15 year-old freshman, and he was a junior from a different school.  I will never forget how his shaggy hair flipped out from under his baseball cap and how hot I thought I was in my no-pocket jeans the night we met.  His goofy smile made me giddy, and I lived for the moments we would dance in the moonlight next to his pickup truck.  I wish I could remember the first time we said “I Love you”, especially since he was the first boy to whom I had ever said the words.  Spring of his senior year, things began to fall apart.  The thought of him at college and me tying him to our small town was overwhelming.  I broke my first love’s heart while sitting in my childhood living room on a Wednesday afternoon.  Maybe that is why every other person I have ever loved has broken mine.

You never really stop loving the first person you give your heart to.  Post-college I had the opportunity to fall in love with my first love all over again.  Daniel and I talked all through college, but when I graduated it became more frequent.  I got to know the man he had become and I loved everything about him.  When I told him how I felt, my move to DC was looming.  I would have stayed for him, but he didn’t ask me to.  I got to feel what he felt when I broke his heart.  

Caleb: The Summer Romance turned Long Distance Whatever
Caleb was the first boy to ever tell me I was beautiful.  We met at church camp the summer before my freshman year of high school.  I was a camper, and he was an older lifeguard.  His clear blue eyes and swoopy blonde hair had me weak at the knees. After dancing with me at the farewell dance, we exchanged addresses and emails.  (This was before I had a cell phone.)  We would chat on AIM.  I started to date Daniel, so we talked less.  The following summer, Daniel and I had broken up, and I returned to camp to be a Counselor-in-Training.  After 2 flirtatious weeks of “giving us a shot”, Caleb ended things when I left camp.  We continued to talk, and flirt on and off for the rest of high school.  

Caleb and I were famous for our big fights.  Our mutual friends knew we were a train wreck together, but we couldn’t seem to stay away from each other.  There are very few people that I have encountered that could make me feel so euphoric and then so broken.  My freshman year of college, in the middle of a tornado watch, I drove to spend the night with him.  I finally got to kiss that first boy that called me beautiful.  Everything about it was wrong; it felt so cheap.  After what seemed like real romance over the years, it just ended when I drove away.  I thought I loved Caleb, and I think that I did in the way that an unjaded heart can.  Caleb and I were the definition of complicated, and he was the beginning of my vicious pattern.  

Bryan: The “I Love You” Friend
My first week of college, I was out with the girls from my dorm, and an older boy bought us drinks.  That older boy got my number and invited me to a party at his house.  Bryan’s blue eyes and charming ways were two of the main reasons he was the first boy I kissed in college.  He quickly decided that one of my dorm friends was more his style but insisted on us staying friends.  She didn’t last in either of our lives.  Bryan lived with a group of boys that became family to me.  I slept on their couch after parties, or sometimes they would even give up their beds.  Every crisis that came up, Bryan was my shoulder to cry on.  My feelings for him were constantly changing.  I would think I had things figured out - know our friendship was the most important thing - and he would get drunk and get jealous.  We would have these heart-wrenching fights that he would not remember the next day, but I would be stuck with the battle wounds.  

The first party after Christmas break, I said something, that in the few seconds before his response, I thought would ruin everything.  When “I love you” slipped out, I never expected him to say “I love you too”, but he did.  That was not the last time.  He started ending our phone conversations by telling me he loved me, and I would say it back.  When he would screw up, he thought “I Love you” was a get out of jail free card.  I convinced myself our love for each other was the same, and that denial was a heavy burden.

When I told him I was in love with him a year and a half later, I couldn’t believe that he was shocked.  The fight we had that night had atomic bomb level destruction.   I was tired of him saying he wanted a girl just like me when he could just have me. Or when he was jealous, and said that I was one of the coolest girls he knew, but I just wasn’t “dating material”.  His promise that this wouldn’t ruin us, and that we would talk about it sober were lies.  I always knew that we were never meant to be together, but I couldn’t help the fact that I loved him.The night I told Bryan I was in love with him was the last real conversation we have ever had.  My belief that we would figure things out and he would always be a part of my life was false.       

Adam: The Friend with Emotional Benefits
The day that the rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed cutie sat on my row in my Comparative Politics class, I could not contain myself.  The fact that we did a class project by rows that day was like a gift from the gods.  I was outwardly determined to stay friends with Adam, regardless of how attracted to him I was, but internally, of course, I hoped he would fall for me.  I don’t remember why we started texting and calling each other, probably something to do with class.  When I asked him to Halloween date party, I said it was as just friends.  I gave him a set of 5 rules, 2 of which were: Don’t try to kiss me and Do not fall in love with me.  We drank and danced, and were both hot messes when we got off the bus.  I was determined to go to a frat party across campus, so he walked me there.  After his attempts to hold my hand, I told him he didn’t care about me, and I knew he would rather be there with my best friend.  I will never forget sitting on the steps of the English department and his answer: “If I didn’t care about you, we would be in my car on the way to my place.  If I wanted to be with Bee, then I would be sitting next to her.”  He wiped my drunken tears and as we got up and started walking he stopped and kissed me. This kiss was brief and very hazy; I even pretended not to remember it.  I think that was the biggest mistake I have ever made.  

After that date party, we began texting and calling almost daily.  I would pick his drunk ass up from the bar on a Tuesday, and he would tell me how much his sisters would love me.  We liked all the same things and even stayed up watching election results together.  Emotionally, we were dependent on each other, but were never physical.  We had plans to visit each other over the Christmas holidays, and my dad even got him a ticket to go to a professional football game with my family.  I felt like I had met the person that I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.  Looking at him, I could see our future and I wanted nothing more in the world.  

Christmas formal rolled around, and Adam agreed to be my date, even though he had an offer to go to the SEC Football Championship.  I just knew that this was going to be the night that changed everything, and it was.  We were sitting in a booth taking a break from dancing, when a sorority sister said “Y’all are such a cute couple.”  He told her we were just friends.  I looked at him and said, “Are we really ‘just friends’?”, and his answer was like a million daggers to my heart.  “Yes, we are just friends.  I only want to be friends.”  It was if someone had ripped my chest open and removed a part of me.  I couldn’t breathe.  The rest of that night is a blur of tears, strong drinks, and more pain than I care to share.  

We tried to be friends after that, but Adam was a constant contradiction.  In hindsight, I think he was trying to disappoint me.  Being me, I laid it all on the line, in writing.  I pointed out all the things he did that screamed the opposite of “just friends”, and I left our future up to him.  It was 46 days from that email to the day I ran into him on campus.  He later told me that he didn’t know how to express his feelings, to put it on the line the way I did.  He didn’t regret anything about the time he spent with me, but he did regret hurting me.  When you think you have met the love of your life, and they chose not to love you back, it forms a hole inside of you - one that you never know if you can ever fill again.  

Liam: The Forbidden Co-Worker
A week after I started my first real-world job, my first batch of interns started.  In that batch, there was one boy, a beautiful, well dressed, blond boy with kind blue eyes.  Liam had a smile that could light up the whole world.  We quickly became friends, g-chatting and grabbing drinks after work.  He would do the sweetest things for me, like surprise me with a milkshake when I was having a bad day.  I knew, as long as he was my intern, nothing could ever happen, AND he had just been through a terrible breakup.  He would listen to me vent about things in the office, and I would give him advice on how to deal with his ex.  I was falling head over heels for him, but I just knew there was no way he reciprocated those feelings.  When my parents came to town, he talked to them while they waited for me and told them he knew that we would always be a part of each other’s lives.  With every conversation, every sweet comment, every time he told me I looked pretty, I slipped deeper into the black hole that is unrequited love.  

One night, we were out with a big group of friends, and his roommate said something that I wish I could go back and un-hear.  He told me that Liam really cared about me.  I replied that I knew that he valued our friendship.  Michael said, “No Harper, he really cares about you.  He doesn’t need as much time to move on as you think.  Don’t wait forever.”  I let that give me a glimmer of hope that one day, when we didn’t work together, things would be different.  After a trip to the Kentucky Derby with a big group of our friends, I realized I would never live up to his ex.  Even if the way he looked at me made my heart melt, or the fact that he wanted to know my opinion on everything, made me weak.  Being friends meant he would always be in my life.    

I think back on all the girls I encouraged him to take on dates.  Forcing myself to suppress my feelings and acting as just his friend was my inner turmoil.  I told myself that having him as a friend was better than losing him.  Yet, I lost him anyway.  He shut me out, leaving me to sit in an office with him everyday and not know his thoughts.  It felt like a thousand needles being shoved into my heart slowly, over and over again.  I still don’t know why he stopped talking to me, and I have asked him more times than I can count.  Loving him was one of the most painful things I have ever endured.  Losing him nearly broke me beyond compare.  He has been gone from my office for over a year. I never see him.  I have done my best to move on, but I still wonder if someday he might love me too.  


I have loved more than some people will in a lifetime and felt pain that some will never know.  I have been very open with my heart, but the people I gave it to have been very reckless with it.  I don’t regret the fact that I have fallen hard and fast several times in my life.  I am a passionate person, and it is a very big part of what makes me me.  I do not love as easily as I once did, and that is likely a result of all the times I have loved, only to have my heart broken in return.  Every one of these boys taught me something about myself and about people.  I am stronger because of them.  One day the real, great love of my life will decide to show up, and when he does, I will realize that yes, I had loved, but there is no love like reciprocated love. 

Relationship Girl?

I am a relationship girl who is never in a relationship.  In college, no one ever wanted me to be their girlfriend.  When you go to a school notorious for being the beauty queen school, it’s hard to stand out.  Even though I am the kind of girl you’d want to take home to mom, I never landed a boyfriend.  Instead, I ended up having one night stands and fuck buddies to ease the loneliness.  I loved twice in college, neither of them were people I dated.  In true Harper fashion, they were just very complicated, very emotionally-charged, very fucked-up friendships.  For instance, this guy and I continued to say, “I love you” to each other for over a year and a half, yet we were never “together”.  My love life in DC has not been much better.  Outside of the complicated situation with D, I’ve loved once.  The details of these relationships are irrelevant now.  What is relevant is the fact that I want a real relationship at this point in my life.  I want the small things; I deserve to know what they are like.  

I look forward to the day when a guy can’t wait to wake up next to me.  I mean a weekday, when morning sex is not in the picture, and I probably have on an oversized t-shirt.  He should be just as excited to start his day with me as I am with him.  He will know that I like to cuddle as I fall asleep, separate in the middle of the night, and as morning comes find my way back to him.    

I look forward to making space in the medicine cabinet and the closet for him to leave a few things.  I will even keep old-fashioned, non-flowery soap in the shower so he doesn’t smell girly when he goes to work.  I will throw some of his laundry in with mine, but he is on his own when it comes to ironing.  I will even cook him dinner, but he better help with the dishes.     

I want Sundays on the couch watching football together, even if we are pulling for different teams.  It’s okay if we fight over what to buy at the grocery store, what movie to watch, or whether to order red or white wine with dinner.  Perfection is not reality and I am just looking for reality.   

He will know so much about me, like I am cranky when I am hungry, and he should give me juice when I am hungover.  I sometimes snore in my sleep, but he should never bring that up.  If he leaves the toilet seat up, I will get pissed.  I know I am high-maintenance, and that is never going to change.  I paint my nails about 3 times a week and am useless for about an hour afterwards.  I watch a lot of television, and some pretty bad television at that.  I am who I am.  It took me a very long time to figure out and accept myself.  I am only looking for people in my life that support who I am.  I know my quirks may aggravate him sometimes, and I know we will fight.  Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you like them all the time, and that's okay.   

Everywhere I look, I see people in relationships, but I don’t know how they end up in them.  What makes them more worthy of Sunday brunch and pillow talk?  I am 25 and have never been in a real, adult relationship.  Is it too late for me?  Have I reached the point where I am not long-term relationship worthy?  Do the relationship types look at me and know that I have no idea what I am doing?  Will I ever be someone’s girlfriend?