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.  

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.  

Happy Blog Anniversary!

A year ago, I started this blog looking for an outlet, a safe place to write.  Most of the time it has been just that, my safe haven from the sad reality that is often my personal life.  I have told you about my heartaches and my sexscapades, my insecurities and my triophant moments.  

So for those of you just joining us, let me reintroduce myself.  My name is Harper, and I am a 25 year old southern transplant living in the Nation’s Capital.  I am a curvy blonde with a love for Zumba and a true disdain for diets, even though I am always on one.    I have a wonderful job that I love, that challenges me, and where I can see a bright future.  I live in a studio apartment the size of a shoebox in a great location, but it is my shoe box and my sanity is worth ever overpriced penny.  My love life is always in some state of disarray and currently I am nursing a freshly broken heart.  

I have found myself at several cross roads over the past year.  After losing my job, I had to decide what career path I wanted to take, and really whether or not I would stay in DC.  Staying here was an easy decision, my life is here now.  The career path that ended up laying itself out in front of me could not be more perfect.  It combines all my passions and talents.  It is as if every shitty thing I went though at my old job was to prepare me for this, to help me appreciate it when work is good.   

I chose to move out of my fabulous 2 bedroom apartment with a private rooftop to live alone in a studio.  I wasn’t scared of being lonely anymore, because I had learned over the 2 years prior just because you weren’t physically alone didn’t mean you couldn’t be lonely.  It was worse to live in an apartment with someone who didn’t even like you than to be all alone.  

I have had ups and downs with friendships that I thought were unshakeable.  I barely speak to some people who I thought would be bridesmaids in my wedding someday.  I have met new people who feel like they have been a part of my life forever, and rekindled friendships with people who actually have.  Friendship is a tricky thing, and each one is very different and with it’s own limits.  I still battle with knowing when to hold on and when to let go.   

I also chose to give my heart to someone who didn’t deserve it, who didn’t want it in the first place.  I told someone that I loved him, and I know now, even though I should have always known, that he will never love me back.  Just because I should have known doesn’t make it hurt any less.  It was my choice to put myself out there, my choice to ignore my friends’ concerns, because I thought I knew him better than they did, I thought it was worth the risk.  Maybe it was.  Now, I don’t have to wonder, if I would have put myself out there, would he have chosen me.  I don’t have any regrets.  Does it hurt like hell? Yes.  Do I wish I could have avoided that? Of course.  But do I regret loving him? I can’t - I shouldn’t, and I won’t.  Love is even trickier than friendship and is completely nonsensical.  

I believe we learn something from every person that comes in and out of our lives.  Even if that lesson is some people are just complete assholes.  Each person helps mold you a little, helps you grow into who you are supposed to be.  We just have to look for the lesson.  For me, writing this blog has helped me find those lessons, helped me sort out the craziness that is my life.        

So who am I? I am a semi-disaster of a woman with a great job, awesome apartment, and a broken heart.  Why should you keep reading?  Disaster will ensue - hilarious, relatable disaster.  It always does.    

Spring has Sprung

Spring has finally reached DC.  Winter held on with clenched fists, but spring has finally sprung.  This is my favorite time of year.  I love the flowers that are popping up all over the city and the cool breeze that keeps the days from getting too hot.  The city comes out of hibernation and, once again, is social.  

All I want to do is sit on rooftops and patios sipping cocktails or drinking beer.  The weekends begin to fill up quickly with brunches, cook outs, and outdoor activities.  I am excited to put the coats and tights away and pull out the shorts and sundresses.  Spring also makes me more inclined to make new friends.  It is so much easier to make a friend lounging on a rooftop than in the dark basement of a bar.  The idea that the adventures of summer lie just around the corner makes me want to expand my options for partners in crime.     

I also relish the opportunity for a spring fling.  I love how flirty I feel in a sundress, and how bold I get when my legs are bare.  I read somewhere once that it is easy to be in love in summer, but I think it is even easier to be infatuated in spring.  The smell of new blooms intoxicating you into a easily smitten state, giving your number out freely to any boy that happens to ask for it with the promise of hanging out again soon.   The warm air melting the ice that the frigid winter has built up around your heart.  Life begins to almost sing along with the birds.  

To me, spring brings possibility, the new and exciting just around the corner or the rooftop over.  Only time will tell if this spring will bring the beginning of some giddy romance, or new friendships brought together in the sun.  I do know that I will welcome new faces, flirt shamelessly, and enjoy every breathtakingly beautiful moment this spring has to offer.  Spring has sprung and freed me from doldrums, which is something to be happy about.  

Tuesday

The hardest part about trying to get over someone is seeing them before you are ready.  That moment you see them coming towards you in the crowded bar is like slow motion, there is no time to run, and you can't pretend that you didn’t see them because you already made accidental eye contact.  Last TI stopped mid-sentence when I saw D walking right towards me.  My heart stopped.

The first thing I noticed is that he cut his hair and I like it.  Why do I still wish I could run my fingers through it?  That is beside the point, even if we did talk about his hair cut.  He asked me where I have been.  My question of whether or not he would notice my absence was answered.  He asked when I was coming back to that certain social event that used to put us in the same place once a week.  I tried to be nonchalant (I think I succeeded), and said I had been busy and I would think about coming back.  He kept pushing the issue, but I didn’t cave.  As he got up from the table I was occupying, he asked again:

D: So I will see you Tuesday?

Me: Maybe, I will think about it.

D: So that is a yes.

Me: It’s a I’ll think about it.

D: I see how it is.  I cut my hair and you don’t find my charming anymore.

Me: (Jokingly) That isn’t it.  We both know the problem is I do still find you very charming.  I will see you later. (ending the subject, and dismissing him)

As he disappeared to another level of the bar, I hoped that would be all I would see of him.  Thinking that my last comment might have been enough to keep him away.  I was wrong.  About 30 minutes later, he came down the stairs and perched a stool across from where my table sat  - blocking my way to the bar.  When he was engaged in conversation, I decided to take the opportunity to slip to the bar and grab another cocktail.  As I squeezed by, he called me out for walking past without talking to him.  I made some comment along the lines of the bar calling my name.  

When I returned from the bar just a few short minutes later, he was suddenly all alone.  I told him I wasn’t ignoring him, I was just getting a drink.  We chatted for a few minutes before he decided to join some of our friends on trip to get pizza.  I passed and said goodbye.  He once again made a push for me to be at our social engagement.  I stuck with my maybe.  

I want to go!  I want to be around him, but I can’t.  I can’t control the word vomit that comes out of my mouth when I have had one too many glasses of wine.  I can’t help but want to pull him into me by the ends of his bow tie when he leaves it hanging, untied, from his collar.  I do still find him incredibly charming, and that is why I wasn’t ready to see him.   

Right now, thinking about it ties me in knots.  I didn’t want him to act like he misses seeing me, or being mad that I walked by without talking to him.  I want to be mad, I am mad, but why do I feel like I want to cry?  I know he doesn’t mean what I want him to by the things he says.  He doesn’t miss me, he misses the attention I have always given him.  Yet, I miss him.  Things come up that I want to talk to him about, but I can’t.  Tuesdays are the worst.  

I find things to do on Tuesdays so I don’t feel so tempted to go and see him.  Whether it is the gym or making dinner for friends, I keep busy.  One day Tuesday will be just another day with no significance, but that day isn’t this Tuesday.  

New Year ... So Much New

Hello 2013!  I hope you bring great happiness and wonderful adventures.  2012 was full of twists and turns, heartbreak and hope, laughter and tears.  I know, I am a little late to the game to post in 2013.  Things have been a bit crazy so far.

There is almost an overwhelming amount of new in this new year.  New job, new apartment, new haircut, new boys, just so much new!  It has been a whirlwind!  I am just trying to wrap my head around all the changes.  So let’s start from the beginning.

New Year’s Eve I put on a sparkly dress and went with Katie to a house party.  (Stefan did not include me in his plans.)  This  house was incredible - they even had a DJ.  Champagne, drinking games, and a hot dance floor made the minutes until midnight a blast.  I had a lovely midnight kiss from the smoking hot host.  Unfortunately, Hottie Host had to get back to his hosting duties, and I was left to my own devices.  We all know that can be dangerous!  While Katie and I were burning up the dance floor, I was taking a boy inventory.  There was this one guy that caught my eye with his great smile and Mr. Rogers sweater.  I shook my curvy ass over there and asked Ryker to dance.  After steaming up the dance floor, we made our way to the porch to cool down.  

How a boy kisses you for the first time says a lot about him.  I like it when a guy reads the signals correctly and just goes for it.  Ryker was on the right page for sure.  As we were talking rather close he slipped his arm around my waist, pulled me in, and pressed his lips against mine.  I was hooked as we melted into each other. We spent the rest of the party making out like teenagers on the back porch, oblivious to the fact that the party was clearing out inside.  At the end of the night, Katie and I left our boys-of-the-night behind, but not before Ryker got my number.  He didn’t wait long to use it either.  His text saying he wished he was still kissing me made my first dreams of 2013 euphoric.  

So, 2013 started off with a little romance and that gave me hope.  As everything seems to be changing in my life, I am excited for the possibilities.  I ended 2012 a complete mess, but as 2013 kicks off I am putting my life back together.  I am starting down a new career path, I have moved into my own little shoebox of a studio, and I am doing my best to leave the ghosts of 2012 where they belong, in the past.  

The Truth Hurts

I might have just fucked up my life.  I never thought I would say it in words, but I did.  I just told a boy with a girlfriend that I loved him, and I just fucked my life up.  

I don’t know how to move on from this.  I don’t know how to love another, but at the end of the day, I loved him.  I lost my job 2 weeks ago.  I thought I would recover, but instead I fell apart.  Everything seems to be falling apart.

I am so lost after telling the truth, and I never thought about what I would say afterwards.  All I had to do was keep pretending, and I couldn’t.  Why couldn’t I keep pretending?    

I would rather lay on top of the covers and feel the cold that my heart is also feeling.  I am breaking again.  I know it wasn’t right of me to say it.  I know he made his choice months ago, a year ago, but my heart never walked away.  No matter how much I told it to, no matter how much my head ventured away, my heart stayed with the situation that could never make it happy, a boy with a girlfriend.  

I didn’t love him when he kissed me.  I didn’t love him in February when he got jealous and told me so.  I can not pinpoint the moment that I started loving him, but somewhere along the way I let myself fall.  I realized it for the first time when I thought he was single in July, when I thought I may actually have a shot to see how he really feels about me.

I never meant to say it out loud.  It’s all a little hazy.  I don’t even know exactly what I said; I just know I shouldn’t have said it.  I didn’t want to lose him in my life and that is exactly what I just did.  He wants to make our friendship work, but at the end of the day, I don’t know if it ever can.  The not-so-simple truth is I do love him.  I want to stop. I need to stop.  Someone tell me how to stop.  

If I could tell him one more thing, it would be that I am so sorry!  I am so sorry that I said those words.  I wish I could take them back.  I wish I could take it all back! I wish we could start all over from the beginning.

Writer's Block

The last few weeks I have been trying to find something to inspire me to write.  I think, more than being uninspired, I have been fighting a war between my head and my heart.  I can’t decide if we spend most of life trying to let our head catch up with our heart, or the other way around.  I think it depends on the circumstance.  My constant battle is that my head and heart are never on the same page.  It makes it very hard to find happiness when you over think everything new, and your heart won’t let go of the ghosts of loves past.  I let my lost loves and tragic mistakes haunt me.  I am so terrified of making the same mistakes over again that I twist myself into something unrecognizable, a lackluster version of myself at times.   

Some days, I wake up, and I know exactly who I am, while on others, I still feel like a lost girl chasing fairy tales.  I find solace in putting together a stylish outfit, having a glass of wine, or watching a terrible, soapy television show.  More than anything, I find my true peace writing this blog.  There is something about baring one’s soul to a group of friends and a bunch of complete strangers.  Nothing makes me feel more empowered than putting my digits to keys and ending up with something that I am proud to share.  It took me a very long time before I showed my writing to anyone.  I was petrified of being told I was wasting my time, that what I write is not worth the space it occupies.  That is not one of my worries anymore.  I believe in my writing, even if it is only being read by my best friends.  We should share the things that make us happy.  This is what makes writer’s block such a plague.  

Even though I tend to write about matters of the heart, I don’t know how to write about my struggle now.  Everyday I go back and forth between being smitten and indifference.  My heart wants to open itself up to Stefan but my head stops me.  I don’t know if I can handle another heartbreak.  Besides, I don’t really know if we are on that track.  That may be my fault.  I don’t want to ruin whatever we are, so I don’t ask, “What we are doing?”  I don’t text him, even when I really want to; I don’t want to appear clingy.  I just enjoy the time we do spend together.  When he is here, when he kisses me hello, it is like all my worries fall away.  

I don’t know what to feel because I don’t want to have unrealistic expectations.  I don’t know what to write, because I don’t want to put on paper my foolish dreams of potential happiness.  The plans I wish I had the courage to make with Stefan just make me that silly girl again.  Is it better to be sensible or should we believe in fairy tales?  

    

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. 

The Answer is in Someone New

Nothing makes you feel more confident than a really good-looking man wanting to see you naked.  Well, maybe when the sight of you undressed leaves this man wanting more. The feeling when you wake up in the arms of someone that just seems too perfect to be real is like a high.  Nothing brings you out of the shadows of heartbreak like the euphoria of a budding romance.  

Three weeks ago, I told someone that I was glad I didn’t feel anything when I kissed all the boys that were crossing my path.  I was in a post heartbreak spiral.  If the boy was cute and wanted to kiss me, I was game.  I was trying to put distance between the memory of kissing D and my present.  I thought I needed to to feel nothing for anyone else until D was out of my head.  I was on a boy bender.  I went out on Wednesday and kissed a boy in front of Union Station.  I went out on Thursday and kissed a boy outside the bar.  Went out on Saturday for Chloe’s birthday, kissed a boy and got swept away.  

When I am in a spiral, I have a cute boy radar like none other.  When Stefan walked in the room, it was like sirens went off in my head.  Being Chloe’s birthday, I went back to dancing with the girls and tried to forget about the gorgeous guy who was lingering nearby in the small basement bar.  I caught him watching me on the dance floor.  There was no ignoring the Vineyard Vines clothed, green-eyed man with Chuck Bass hair.  Who talked to whom first is still a little hazy, but his dance moves were amazing.  He twirled me all over the floor before he went in for the kiss.  I was the girl making out in the bar and I didn’t care.  Don’t worry, we talked too, but mainly we just kissed, alot.  

There comes a point in these situations when what’s happening next is inevitable.  When other people are thinking, “Get a room!”, maybe you should!  That is what led me to say, “You want to get out of here?”. I forgot what it was like to feel so wanted, to feel like they are just drinking you in.  Having someone who can’t stop kissing you long enough to find a cab is exhilarating.  

After entangling ourselves in my sheets for quite a while, Stefan and I stayed up talking until the wee hours.  My Sunday morning was a mixture of knocking boots and pillow talk.  When Stefan left the next afternoon, I didn’t know if I would ever hear from him again.  I decided to cross my fingers but not hold my breath.  When he texted me hours later, I thought my heart might explode from surprise and excitement!  

He made his way into the city the next Wednesday to see me before I left for a cruise to Bermuda with Chloe and Vivian.  I had forgot how it felt to flirt without guilt, to be excited without consequence, and to feel like everything is full of possibility not doom.  

Chloe, Vivian, and I had a blast on the cruise!  There were late nights at the disco, post-bar hot tubbing, and a some racy games of Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever.  I kissed a guy under the stars, pool-side. It was sweet. The problem was he wasn’t Stefan.  I didn’t enjoy talking to him, I didn’t want him to hold my hand, and I absolutely did not want to sleep with him.  

So, it is official.  I am crushing on someone new.  All signs seem to point to good on the Stefan front.  I am hopeful that things last at least a little bit longer.  I am not expecting the great love of my life; I just want to enjoy whatever this is while it lasts.  The giddy feeling I get when he texts me makes my heart pound.  I day dream about his fingers gently running down my bare back. I fall asleep thinking about doing so in his arms, and how much better I sleep when he is there.  

I don’t really think about D very much anymore.  There was a time when he consumed me.  Now it is more like an occasional thing out of habit.  I know it has helped not seeing him for a month, but now I am more worried about the first time I do see him.  I think I am just going to rip off the Band-Aid and go to that weekly social gathering.  Besides I have someone else that likes to see me naked.