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.            

Tinder Adventure

I have started on a boy adventure, a Tinder boy adventure. Yes, that is right, everyone's favorite hot or not hookup app is responsible for the new guy in my life. No, this is not a story of how I fell in love on a Tinder date, and it can happen to you too. This is me finally using Tinder for what it is intended, hooking up.

I know what you are thinking ... God she is a whore, and think what you want. I have had Tinder since the summer and had only been on one date. I mostly have used the app to stifle boredom and to boost my confidence when a hot guy swipes right and we match. After my first bad experience on a Tinder date, I summed it up to harmless fun. I would block the boys who start their chats with, “dtf?” and say hi to the ones I really wanted to chat me back.  

One unsuspecting Saturday morning I got a chat from a very attractive, chiseled 34 year old.  This is how our conversation started:

Tinder Boy: Hi there

Me: Hey

Tinder Boy: Your Sexy :) Love a women with curves.  (ok SOLD!  He is hot and likes curvy women!)

Me: Well Thank you! You're pretty sexy yourself (total understatement).  Where are you from?

Tinder Boy: Atlanta (Of course he is! Damn Georgia Boys!)

Tinder Boy: Maybe we can share a bottle of wine and snuggle up to a movie sometime.  I have a nice condo all to myself :)

(Damn this guy is good!  Wine, movies, and cuddling are 3 of my favorite things! How can I resist?)

We continued on with a banter during which I called him trouble and he called me gorgeous.  Phone numbers were exchanged, and the sexting games began.  Little known fact about me, and some of you might think this is TMI, but I am a master sexter.  I know most people just think of sexting as sending naughty pictures, but the real art is keeping a guy intrigued without a picture.  If you are a sext beginner, here are two key phrase that will never fail you: “You’re so dirty” and “I aim to please”.  

Although Tinder Boy wanted to see me that weekend, I was busy (true story too, I already had plans).  Also, it was Tinder, so I wanted to see if he would stay interested for a whole week.  Oh boy did he!  But during this week my friends started to plant crazy notions into my head.  Elle was determined that Tinder Boy was not real, and I was going to get catfished.  She thought it would be funny if I showed up, and he was a 50 year old balding fat man.  Chloe was sure I would get murdered, reminding me of several SVU episodes.  I started to get anxious about going to Tinder Boy’s place.  I know a healthy dose of fear is good, but I had already thought out escape plans.  I was going to send Conner the address and apartment number of Tinder Boy’s place with directions to call me if he hadn’t heard from me 2 hours after I arrived.  I was doing this!    

I know a million things could have gone wrong, and I would hate if someone had to tell my mother I got murdered in the pursuit of getting laid, but I need a little fun in my life.  Oh and fun I knew I would have!  Tinder Boy is also an advanced sexter, giving me a run for my money, and making me bring out the big guns.  

(WARNING: If you blush easily then the rest of this post might not be for you.  I am going to share some intimate details.)  

By big guns I mean role play.  I had never tested out this tactic before because so many boys I encounter assume I am a goodie goodie when it comes to sex and don’t engage me in this beautiful art of text message seduction.  What role play scenario did we play?  Well, I decided to start with a classic.  I was a Catholic school girl, so schoolgirl and hot teacher was an easy one to play.  After some “would you keep me after school”s and “teach me how to please you”s, Tinder Boy was eating out of the palm of my hand.  

I was beyond excited for our date when a girl’s worst enemy made an early appearance, damn you Mother Nature!  I decided after the way we had been texting it would be necessary to tell him before I went over.  So, I went with the following text “So, Mother Nature is a bitch and decided to make an early appearance.  You still up for wine, a movie, and dry humping like teenagers? Hehe”.  This well crafted message worked!  He had planned a last minute trip, so we decided to postpone to the movie until after he returned and have a hand session.  Hand session you ask? Well, this is just another name for fooling around.  Hands finding their way around each others bodies, kissing, touching, discovering each others’ likes.  Tinder Boy likes talking dirty with me, and makes sure I’m completely satisfied.

So, I obviously did not get murdered since I am writing this, but did he look like his pictures?  Yes! He still has all his hair, his body is as rocking as the selfies he sent me, and all around a major hottie!  He is shorter than I thought he would be, only just slightly taller than me, but I can wear flats for this level of fun!  

I was extremely nervous when I got to his place.  He had told me he was going to hop in the shower and to let myself in.  Of course he was still in the shower when I got there.  I tell him I am there through the bathroom door. He sends me a text to make myself comfortable in the bedroom. I start to freak out thinking “Oh goodness. Maybe I am not ready for this, I can still leave.”  Then he comes out in a towel with a body like wow! He makes a joke about me probably being relieved that he wasn't old and bald, and, let’s be honest, I was!  He doesn't take the time to get dressed, just comes over to the bed wrapped in a towel and kisses me hello.  Kissing, I am good at that! That is a great place to start, deep passionate, kissing.   I wasn't so nervous any more. First my black v-neck tee comes off revealing my sexiest black lace bra. Minutes later I work my way out of my skinny jeans, left in my bra and thong, evening the whole clothes ratio. They never came off, pulled and pushed around, yes, but never removed entirely.  Tinder boy went to work proving to me that he is good with his hands, spending more time at it than anyone has since high school, when it was as far as they were getting with me.

I repaid the favor, making quick work of it by whispering dirty tidbits from our sext fantasies. That's the great thing about sexting, you can find out a guys triggers before you even get them in the bedroom.  A few choice words make a simple hand job into an ultra sexy treat.  

We laid  in bed cuddling and talking for an hour, getting to know each other a little better.  Him talking about crossfit and his trip to Europe, and me about why I love DC and where I am from. We both discussed how screwed up the dating scene in DC is, how many people cheat, and what we are looking for someday when we are done having fun. I can tell we are at no risk of falling in love, just two people who are physically attracted to each other, looking for someone willing to be adventurous and play with us.

I didn't realize how stifled I had been sexually until Tinder boy entered the picture and made me realize I am not dirty for wanting adventurous sex. It is normal to have fantasies and turn ons, it's sexy even.  I think that is why when my friends, especially my guy friends, call me Mom I get so offended. It makes me feel so asexual, when I am in fact a very sexual person. I don't sleep around often, and I try to only sleep with people I see potential with, but sometimes sex is just sex, and that is healthy.  

Tinder Boy sexted me only an hour after I left and right up until he got on a plane to leave the country for the week. I will say this, I am under no impression that this will turn into some wonderful relationship.  I am taking it at face value - a fun hot guy who wants to hook up and likes what I am working with.  In my opinion, there is nothing wrong with a having a fun buddy as long as everyone involved is on the same page.  So, I find myself ordering things from the Victoria’s Secret Semi-Annual Sale and waiting for my next adventure with Tinder Boy.  

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.  

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.  

Reckless

Sometimes making a spontaneous, poor decision is needed.  After over thinking every aspect of your life, sometimes you just need to do something without thinking.  Being spontaneous can remind yourself that you are still young and free.  That is how I found myself waking up in a hotel room in Rosslyn Saturday morning.  I made out with a beautiful Air Force officer from Georgia - they always seem to be from Georgia!  

I casually sipped my wine waiting for the Air Man and his friend to approach me; I couldn't wait to flirt with him.  There was a reason I let Elle leave me at the bar when she got tired.  I noticed their group when they walked into the bar, and I was in need of some male attention, especially from someone new.   

I don’t know why I decided to ride the metro to Rosslyn with him when I was a block away from my apartment.  Maybe it was the offer to help him pack and make out that seemed so appealing.  I liked that he was drawing a line in the sand, so I wouldn’t have to.  Maybe it was his crystal blue eyes that popped against his tan skin.  Or maybe, just maybe, it was the idea of being reckless, the idea of adventure, that made me get on that train.  Whatever it was, at the time, I wasn’t giving it any thought.  The Air Man was leaving in the morning, so we only had that night.  

Holding hands on the metro and walking through his hotel lobby - it all seemed so much like a movie.  It wasn’t until we were in the elevator that he told me he had a girlfriend back home.  I guess the guilt was sinking in.  It was now 3am and I was at a hotel in Rosslyn.  After contemplating the fact that getting home would be nearly impossible at that point, I went into his hotel room to help him pack.  There are two beds, and after telling him that he brought me there under false pretenses, I climbed in my own bed, wearing my slip.  

As he walks to his bed in his boxer briefs, I realize staying in my own bed would be harder than I thought, especially since we had already kissed.  The Air Man was hot, chiseled, and lean.  In the dark, we began to talk, and he invited me to join him in his bed, just to make out.  I was torn.  In so many ways, the damage was already done.  He had already kissed me and invited me to his hotel room.  I threw my moral girl code to the wind and climbed in bed with the most beautiful man I have ever let kiss me.  

Things got heated, but we never crossed the ultimate line.  My slip never came off, even if my bra did.  As the sun came through the window, the guilt came with it.  I layed there for a while, not quite ready to face the shame of leaving a hotel in my clothes from the night before.  When I did slip out of bed, I grabbed my things and tiptoed to the bathroom.  After reassembling myself, and brushing my teeth with my finger I emerged not knowing what to say.  The Air Man didn’t either.  He couldn’t get up because his boxers were across the room, which, for the record, I don't remember happening.  I could tell he hated himself for cheating, and I felt like an evil temptress.  

After the most awkward goodbye in the history of goodbyes, I made my way to the cab line.  My attempt at being spontaneous had resulted in me choosing something I had never chosen before.  I had chosen to be the other woman, fulling knowing that some girl back in Georgia would be broken hearted if she ever knew.  Not even with D, someone I have said I love you to, have I crossed the physical line once I knew another girl existed.  Maybe it was because unlike every other time, I knew I wouldn’t run into him at the frat house, student union, the bar, or the Longworth Cafeteria.  I will never see him ever again.  I won’t have to run into, and be reminded of, my indiscretion.  

I was spontaneous and reckless.  I had fun.  I just hope I didn’t wreck some poor girl’s heart.  

Epiphany

It is funny when epiphanies happen.  It is always at the oddest times and in the most inopportune places.  Yesterday I had an epiphany in the middle of Zumba class.  I have been trying to date the same guy my whole life.  D is a Liam, who was an Adam, who was also a Bryan, who was ultimately a Caleb (See the Many Loves of My Life … for reference).  The reason why I feel so comfortable with each of these guys is that I have been trying to date a version of them since I was 13 years old.  

I try to act like I am so evolved and my life is so different now than it was in college, but it really isn’t.  I have one bar that I go to more than any other, and I am friends with the people that work there.  I am continuing to chase an unattainable boy that, no matter how much I think we click, will never end up dating me.  I fake confidence, because deep down I am one big insecure mess.  I have been since the day I got glasses in the 2nd grade, or had to shoot free throws granny style in the 3rd, and got called fat for the first time in the 4th. I heard the boys in college refer to me as Bee’s fat friend.  It is very hard to feel good about yourself when people have been telling you your whole life that you have no reason to.  I am still the scared girl that went home in tears everyday in the 3rd grade.  The girl that’s mother held her back so she wouldn’t be picked on anymore.  

No matter how much I try to pretend that none of that matters anymore, I still find myself searching for other people’s approval, and especially approval from the men in my life.  I make out with a boy just to prove that I can.  I sleep with practical strangers, but I barely kiss the people that I love.  I play the part

of the bombshell, because it is easier than being the vulnerable self-imploding mess that is me.  

I really want to change.  I don’t want to hide under layers of spanxs and red lipstick.  I don’t want to continue my vicious cycle of unhealthy, one sided relationships.  I want to stop being selfish and making my grand dramatic speeches, because they are selfish.  I say them so that I feel better, and I don’t think about how much harder they probably make things for the people I give them too.  

I live in this big, wonderful city filled with so many people I have never met.  I am going to go out and meet more of them.  I am going to try new bars, and make new friends.  I am going to stop complaining about how much I hate my body, and I am going to actually work to change it.  Holding back on here is not an option anymore, because when I do I lose my outlet for my crazy.  I am going to actually give myself a chance to heal my heart too.  I am never going to be able to find someone that makes me happy, that can give me all of them if I am not whole myself.  It is time for me to take back my heart from D, Liam, Adam, Bryan, Caleb and any other guy that has undeservingly held a piece of it.    

I am always saying that  I am going to change parts of my life and never do.  This time I mean it.  This time I see that I am the only person keeping myself from being happy.  It is not some cosmic plot to make me miserable.  I was watching “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” and there was a part that really resonated with me.  Sam is crying and she asks Charlie why we let the people in our lives treat us like shit.  He answers, “We accept the love that we think we deserve.”

I am not going to sit in my studio and let myself get lonely or feel sorry for myself any longer.  I am stronger than I realize.  My imperfections are what make me beautiful.  The following two quotes are my inspiration for self confidence, my crutch to lean on, and the motos I should live life by.  

Moving On

I think Stefan and I are working out after all.  I know what you may be thinking -  I just told someone else I loved them, and that is supposed to mean something.  It does, but it can’t.  

When Stefan texted and asked for a last minute drink date the night after I said the L word, I went.  I went because, even though what Stefan and I have is not perfect, it is a step in the right direction.  When we are together, we act like a couple.  He makes me laugh, he pays attention, and he gives me that giddy feeling in the pit of my stomach.  Those few hours we hung out that night made me realize that there is potential for something real between us.  

I try not to put all of my eggs in one basket though.  My hair stylist called me the next afternoon and asked if she could give a cute client of hers my phone number.  I had seen him in the salon before, so I said yes.  We met for drinks at one of my regular places, that way, I had backup if needed.  He was sweet, but kind of meek.  It was nice, but just nice.  The whole time I just kept thinking, “I don’t have that feeling”, you know the spark.  So, I thanked him for a lovely evening, and that was it.  

Betsy and I had our Christmas party, but Stefan couldn’t make it.  I really wanted him there, but a few cocktails in, I got flirty with a handsome gentleman that kept making making me martinis.  Again, its the whole eggs-in-one-basket thing.  I am a flirt, especially when I am in a cocktail dress.  I also love a bit of a challenge, and a boy as suave as this particular one was hard for me to resist.  So, by the end of the night, I found myself with Mr. Martini under the mistletoe.  

Even though I kissed Mr. Martini, I woke up the next day thinking about Stefan.  I realize I need to stop chasing things that aren’t attainable, even if I do pull them off sometimes.  I keep saying I want to find something real, but I keep setting myself up for heartbreak.  I like Stefan, and we have potential, even if we aren’t exclusive.  That became more clear when we hung out on Monday.  Seeing each other twice in a week is a step in the right direction.  I just want to take things slow,and maybe, for the first time in my life, do things right, not get overly excited or clingy.  If they don’t work out, then it isn’t meant to be, but I am not shutting myself off to something with real potential, not this time.  

I know what you may be thinking, “How could I say the L word to someone, and a week later, now say that I am figuring things out with someone else?”  The truth is, I have had feelings for D for a very long time.  Things were/ are a mess in my life, and I was projecting.  I shouldn’t have said it, and I am not sure I still mean it.  I know I meant it once upon a time.  Now, whether I have feelings for D still or not, I do have real feelings for Stefan.  I am going to let life play out.  Knowing me, it won’t be boring.

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.

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.