Slipping ...

I can feel it.  It is creeping over me, slowly, with every ounce of bad news or bad decision.  I am slipping into my dark place.  I am trying to pull myself out, but I feel like I just keep slipping deeper.  It is like trying to climb up the side of a dark muddy hole, the harder you try to grip and claw the farther you fall, and the hole gets just a little bit deeper.  

This was supposed to be the year of Harper, this year of empowerment and good things.  I keep making decisions to try to prove I am living my life for me.  I dyed my hair red.  I said it was because I always wanted to, which isn’t a complete lie but it isn’t the whole truth.  I needed to know if the blonde bombshell persona I have been hiding behind all of my twenties was the only thing that made me me.  Am i more than a Marilyn Monroe wannabe?  You might be saying to yourself it is just hair, but our society puts a lot of emphasis on hair.  People spends ungodly amounts of money to color, cut, and protect their hair.  People sew and clip in someone else’s hair to give them the look of full abundant hair that society has told us is beautiful.  If I added up how much I spent on the salon and products every year it would probably make me sick.  So, how did going red make me feel?  At first I didn’t even recognize myself.  I worried that I had just taken away the one thing that helped make my features beautiful.  I found myself worried about what every person in my life thought about it.  Would I still attract the same men or any men at all?  It has been a month and I have decided to keep it red, at least for now.  I think in many ways it is making me face some of my fears.  Which is good, because the rest of my life just makes me want to run.

Why do I want to run?  Why am I slipping farther and farther?  This is really hard for me to talk about.  I am just going to blurt it out.  My mom is going to leave my dad.  At 29 years old, my parents are going to get a divorce.  Or at least my mom likes to talk to me about the selfish things my dad does and tell me she is looking at houses online and thinking about divorce attorneys.  I want them both to be happy, and if that means they need to be apart, then fine.  I know my life will turn upside down, but I am an adult; I can handle that for them.  It’s more that my example of love is broken.  No wonder I can’t find a healthy loving relationship, I didn’t exactly have the best example.  I date men like my father.  Men who only give you the little part of themselves that they want to share.  Men that never think about you when making decisions that will inevitably affect you.  Men who are selfish.  My mom tells me to break the cycle, to find someone who will adore me, but I don’t know how.  It is true, women end up dating their fathers.

I also am still not talking to Bee.  I sent her a message a month ago.  I know it was probably too late, but I meant what I said in it.  I love her, and I miss her.  I know that doesn’t change that we have things to work through, but it does mean that I want to try to figure things out.  I tried all summer to find the right words to say to her, but I never could figure out how to say how she has made me feel all these years without reliving every terrible moment.  I was too worried about my parents, and my job and just kept telling myself that it would keep.  We would work it out eventually, maybe we, maybe I, just needed some time.  Instead of time bringing us back together it has dissolved what we had.  How strong could our friendship have been if we can’t make it through this?  10 years, maybe that was the time limit on our friendship.

I try to forget Evan and the fact that when I tried to make something more of our causal relationship he just disappeared.  I try to brush away how deeply hurt I was.  I had really let him in, let him see all the parts of myself I try to hide.  Somehow he made me feel safe, and wanted, and alive.  I had given him more power to hurt me than even I had realized.  When he disappeared, the aching was palpable.  I wanted to feel anything else, anything but what I was feeling.  I have slept with boys to prove to myself that I am desireable, and to mask that I still care about Evan, still think about him.  

When he texted this weekend after 3 months of silence, there was a little part of me that wanted to believe the “I’m sorrys” and the “I miss yous”.  At least in that moment I was able to call him on his shit, to not let him off easy, to find some little ounce of strength.  I deserve more.  I was just starting to really be ok, and he had to pop back up, to remind me that my feelings for him are still there, fading but not yet gone.  

I try to grip a little harder, and I slip a little farther.  

DC, Love of My Life

Four years ago, I packed my bags and got on a plane to DC.  With no job lined up and just a spot on a practical stranger’s futon in their studio apartment, I was scared and exhilarated.  Politics had been my dream from a young age, and DC is the center of the political universe.  I was coming from small town Mississippi with no experience with public transportation, and where walking places was unheard of.  My parents gave me until the first of the year to find a job with a paycheck, or it was back to Mississippi I would go.  Whenever asked what is the most terrifying experience of my life, I would answer moving to Washington, DC.  It truly was a leap of faith, and one I am so glad I made.    

Luckily I wasn’t completely alone.  I had a few friends from college here, and most importantly Connor.  I don’t know that I have ever told him this, but I don’t think I would have moved here if he hadn’t already started grad school here.  Connor let me crash on his couch for 2 weeks before I decided to make the move.  He encouraged me to take the plunge; he made big city seem manageable, and for that, I will be forever thankful.  

Things quickly began to fall into place after stepping off the plane.  I got an unpaid internship at a campaign committee, and volunteered as much as possible.  I was making friends and work connections, and feeling more and more comfortable by the day.  Needless to say I made my parents’ deadline for a paycheck, and have been lucky to have several amazing opportunities over the past 4 years.  That doesn’t mean that every moment has been a cakewalk, and I have had my doubts about my career and DC in general.  But even when homesickness is settling in during the 6 months between trips to Mississippi, there is something about DC that always feels right.  

DC is my longest relationship.  This city has been my challenger, my best friend, my comfort zone, and the love of my life.  Choosing to move to DC certainly wasn’t the easiest decision, especially when I had options to stay closer to home.  DC meant I thought I was capable of more than those small options were.  DC meant I was making the dreams I had been talking about since I was 14 a reality.  DC has brought amazing people into my life to support me, to teach me, and to grow with me.  DC has also had its low points, friends who weren’t really friends, emotionally abusive workplaces and relationships, and a sea of self doubt because of it all.  Every time things got hard and I thought about going back to Mississippi, I realized something quite unexpected.  Mississippi will always be the home where I grew up, but DC is the home that I have built.  I am a Mississippian, a Washingtonian, and proud to call them both home.    

It is hard to believe that 4 years have passed since I got on that plane in Jackson full of hope and determination.  I am a much wiser version of myself now, and looking back there are some things I would have done differently.  But all in all I am proud of the person I have become, of the people I surround myself with, and the life I have built for myself.  

It has been a hell of a ride DC, and I think I am staying for a while.  I mean you don’t just walk away from the love of your life now do you?

Dating is Hard

I am sure all of you are tired of the self-discovery, emotionally-settled Harper because I give you nothing juicy to read.  The truth is it kind of bores me too.  I am trying to have a healthy dating life and all that means is a lot more lonely nights.  I am not supposed to kiss a boy unless he takes me on a date first, which puts quite the damper on my kissing whore ways.  I know it is for the best, and if I want something real I have to actually spend my time with other people looking for the same thing.  

So, I pay for Match.com, and I have gone on a total of zero dates in the past 2 months.  The men that want to talk to me ignite zero spark.  I go through my daily matches and I message the men I am interested in only to be disappointed by the lack of response.  Tinder is a confidence booster and Match.com is a confidnce killer.  Maybe that is why I broke all my rules for a tall lobbyist with mesmerizing green eyes.  Evan was the only guy in all of Jack Rose that I wanted to talk to.  I spent hours trying to figure out a way to get him to talk to me, and finally his group split enough for me to find an in.  While ordering a drink at the bar we struck up a conversation and before I knew it he was paying for my drink and getting my number.    

As we went back to our respective friend groups my phone buzzed.  As we texted and made plans for a date the next week I couldn’t help but want to kiss Evan.  Out of the blue, a drink appeared in front of me, and yet Evan didn’t stick around to talk.  Could it be his motives were pure?  The rules went out the window.  I had to make out with this man, but right when I made my decision, his friends insisted that he leave.  Shortly after my own group started to break apart, and I decided to head home alone.  While in the cab my phone dings and it was a certain lobbyist wondering if I was still out.  

I knew I shouldn’t break my rules but the idea of that tall gorgeous man kissing me, touching me put me over the edge.  The invitation was extended, he was in a cab heading my way.  I frantically picked things up around my apartment and stuffed them in drawers and closets, damning my lack of cleaning in recent days.  I checked my make up, peeled off my spanxs and replaced them with something lacey.  Although, I made it very clear that if he came we were just making out, what adults remain fully clothed when rolling around a bed, even if they are just making out?

I buzz him up, anxiety coursing through me.  When he walks through the door he kisses me, grabbing my face with one hand and slightly lifting me with the other to bridge the foot difference in our height.  Damn.  That was all I could think, damn.  He pulls away gazes into my eyes and says, “hi.”  I reciprocate the greeting and then he says something so simple yet so sexy, “I have been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you.”  How can you not kiss someone after hearing something like that?

As he breathed my name into my ear I felt my whole body ignite.  There is something exhilarating about a man whispering your name while they explore every curve, unwilling to stop touching any part of you that they are allowed.  It is empowering, intoxicating, thrilling to have someone unable to get enough of you, unwilling to leave your bed, in awe of your beauty.  It’s a high, and I know I am like an addict that just fell of the wagon.  The physical touch does not fill my craving for love, just intensifies it.  It begins the “will he or won’t he call?”

Surprisingly, Evan was a man of his word, at first at least.  He texted me on the first day of my new job, and he made plans to take me to dinner that he actually followed through on.  I had a lovely time and felt this spark with him, but after that dinner I never heard from him again.  After igniting a spark he left me to alone to go up in flames.  That is why I don’t break the rules, that is why you stay on the wagon, to avoid that feeling of not being worth the real thing.  

I know I deserve the spark, the electricity, and the relationship.  That is why I shouldn’t kiss someone before they earn it, shouldn’t share my bed with someone that can’t take the time to take me on a date.  As much as I pretend I am a modern woman that can separate the physical and the emotional when a boy lays in my bed, looks me in the eyes and tells me I am beautiful I melt.  Dating is hard, and it is anything but simple.  But I am not giving up just yet.      

2014

I know we are a few weeks into 2014, but it is never too late to tell you about my New Years Eve, New Years resolutions, and my outlook on 2014.  

I could not have dreamt up a better way to start 2014.  Ok maybe there could have been a few slight improvements, like a New Years kiss, but seriously, my New Years Eve was practically perfect!

Elle, Hadley, my new and wonderful friend Layson, and I got all dolled up in sequins and headed to a wonderful four course meal at Lavanga.  The food was spectacular, and the company superb!  We laughed, stuffed our faces, and mocked the 60 year-old women with cleavage for days.  After our delicious meal we snuck into a private, open bar party at our favorite bar.  We made friends, got boys to buy us shots, hung out with all our favorite bartenders, and overall had an amazing time!  We could not have planned a more perfect night with friends.  Hadley kept finding boys willing to give up their party hats until we all had one.  

I want 2014 to be the year of Harper.  I plan to do things that I like, things that make me happy, and things that better me.  So, here are some promises I have made or goals I have set for myself.

- Read 52 books this year.  That is a book a week.  I spend an hour on the metro everyday, and have started reading during my lunch hour.  There is no reason why I can’t find the time to read a book a week.  

- Lose weight.  I know what you are thinking.  This is every typical woman’s resolution.  What makes this different than years before is why I want to.  I want to feel good about myself.  I don’t want to lose weight to win some boy, I want to do it to like the way I look in clothes.  I know there is nothing wrong with being a 14/16, but I would like to be able to go into any store in a mall and find something that fits me nicely.  I have started Weight Watchers, and have already lost 5lbs.   

- Spend my money on big moments instead of nights at the bar.  I would rather save up so I can have the memories of something like Taste of the South than spend all my money at my neighborhood bar doing the same thing every week.  I am too young to give up on living.

- Leave the past in the past.  I have to stop carrying around all my past heartbreak and let myself move on.  As long as I hold onto the past I will never be able to have a future.

-  Be confident in my own decisions.  I need to make decisions and not second guess them.  

- Spend time with true friends.  I want to continue to develop my friendships with the people that are always there for me.  It isn’t the quantity of friends you have, it is the quality of your friendships that matter.

- Have fun!

The year of Harper has so many other goals and objectives, but no need to bore you with them all.  I am really looking forward to what 2014 has to offer.  The best part of the New Year is the idea that you can start fresh, eliminate bad habits, learn from your mistakes - with that comes the ability to change..  So, even though this is a few weeks late, I hope you also have plans for yourself in 2014.  If not, it is never too late!   

Goodbye 2013 ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Fool

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

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

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

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

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

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

      

Caring: How to Stop

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Run In

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bye Bye Bama

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crush or be Crushed

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

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

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

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

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

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

What Does Forever Look Like?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goodbye Forever

I once wrote that with D, it wasn’t goodbye forever, just goodbye for now.  That may have been the case then, but is certainly is not the case now.  The time has finally come, the limit has been reached, and I can’t keep holding onto something that was never really there.

The reality is he went back to his girlfriend.  He went back to her and never told me, leaving me to keep hoping that one day, we would end up together.  Every time we would talk and I asked how life was, he never once told me they were together again.  It was as if he wanted to lead me on, to continue to receive my flirty attention.  I had to see on Facebook that they were still “in a relationship” and then to ask one of his friends if they got back together.  I knew the answer when I asked the question, but I needed it to be confirmed, I needed to hear someone say it.  

I wanted to cry, to throw up, but I was at work.  I had 4 hours left in the day and I had to hold it together as best I could.  I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t throw up, and I couldn’t drink, so I did the only other thing left.  I ate.  I went to the cafe downstairs and got greasy, nasty, super bad-for-me food, and I ate my feelings, even though I still felt sick to my stomach.  Focus on the french fries, focus on the ketchup, don’t focus on the fact that he lied to me.  A lie of omission, but a lie nonetheless.  

He is a selfish son of a bitch who was too much of a coward to tell me the truth, to tell me that he doesn’t want me, that I will never be able to be her.  We can’t be friends after this, not that we ever really were.  I told myself I got a few days, a few days to cry and be sad and learn how to breathe again.  Because, in that moment, it felt like a elephant was sitting on my chest, holding me down, causing this uncontrollable pain yet intense emptiness.

I somehow made it to 5pm with the anticipation of drinking wine until I threw up.  Chloe and Meg were coming over, so I did a frantic clean-up of my apartment, which held off my break down.  As I threw the 10 pairs of shoes I had collected from around my apartment into my closet, I lost it.  My back found the wall and the deep heaving sobs came rushing over me.  Between the rattles in my chest, I couldn’t hold back the “Why?s” and the “How could he?s”.  I once again found myself absolutely torn apart by a man, no not a man - a boy, who didn’t deserve my tears.   

I thought he was a good man, an honest man.  I thought that his intentions were never to hurt me.  I saw a kindness in him, a warmth that I had never seen in a man before.  Now, I think I saw what I wanted to see.  I built him up to be someone so much better that he really is, than he ever can be.  I stood up for him and risked friendships for him, and at the end of the day, he couldn't even tell me the truth.  But what was I expecting?  He lied to me when we first met, when he kissed me before he told me about his girlfriend.  I was too quick to forget that.        

I don’t know his reasons, and at this point they are mute.  He gave up his opportunity to tell me, to explain.  I don’t need to hear that she is the love of his life, or they have been together so long that he owes it to her to try.  Maybe she has decided to move to DC and make that sacrifice for him.  Or maybe, just maybe, he is going to move to be with her.  That would be the best thing that could ever happen to me.  If he left, and I never saw him again, then maybe I could heal.  

The part of me that still loves him hates the idea of never see him again, hates that this really is the end of what I thought could have been my great romance.  The much larger part of me that hates him can’t imagine seeing his face right now, can’t imagine not yelling at him if I did.  Then there is the small part of me that actually has found some reason.  This part of me knows not seeing him is the only way I will ever truly move on.  After a year and half of falling for him, falling deeper into a web of unrequited love, I am ready to come up for air.  

D will probably never read this, even though he has every opportunity to do so, just like he had every opportunity to tell me the truth.  Even though he will never read this I am going to take this opportunity to say goodbye.  

D,

This is really goodbye, no pleas that we are supposed to be friends can keep me this time.  Friends don’t lie to each other.  Friends don’t make each other feel like this.  I don’t regret loving you, some might say I should, but I don’t.  Every person you love teaches you something, helps you become who you are meant to be.  I wish you could have loved me back, again, I know I shouldn’t, but I really do.  I wish with all of my heart that you could have loved me, could have wanted more with me.  I want you to be happy, but much more than that, I want to be happy!  I deserve people in my life that contribute to my happiness, and that isn’t you.  I don’t need you, and one day soon I won’t want you anymore either.  One day you will be a distant memory, and I hope for that day with all of my being.  But, for now, I will have to settle for saying goodbye to you forever.  ~ H

      

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.  

The Answer is in Me ...

I am back to where I was in August in a lot of ways, going to the gym instead of my weekly social engagement that involves D.  Trying so desperately to get over him, or the very least, not feel the need to say awkward, dramatic things when I am around him.  To be in a room with him and not feel like he is the only boy I want to talk to would be an improvement on life.  

Can you really stop being attracted to someone?  Can you somehow stop finding things they do charming or endearing when they haven’t given you a reason to?  Every boy for whom I’ve had these feelings in the past exited my life on their own accord.  They didn’t give me a choice in the matter.  They either walked away and never looked back, or did something so unforgivable that I would never find them charming again.  For the first time in my life I am trying to walk away from someone before they wreck me, before they can walk away leaving me broken.  I am tired of being broken.   

I already can see the writing on the wall with D.  I always thought, and he even said once, if things were different, we would have been different.  Now things are different, and we were both right.  Things are different, but not the way I had always hoped for.  It turns out I don’t know how to be around D, not really.  I think the fact that we both know how much I care about him looms like a dark cloud, putting a damper on any idea of possibility.  The excitement that was once there is now anxiety.  For the first time, the question of how he feels hangs, suspended with no answer in sight.  I am choosing to make that my answer.  Instead of waiting around for months in hope that he will choose me, just to be devastated, I am moving on.    

I once said that the answer was in someone new.  I was wrong.  The answer isn’t in a boy distraction, though they don’t hurt.  The answer is in myself.  The answer is in why I would want to be someone’s second choice.  Why I find people that don’t pursue me to be so appealing, when I deserve someone that will go out of their way to be with me, is a question I have to ask myself.  The more I limit my interaction with D, the easier it will be for me to realize these things.  At least that is what I am hoping.  

It is week two, and I wonder if he will even notice that I am not there.  Will he feel relieved?  A part of me knows the answer to that question is yes.  What week, if any, will he start to miss my quirky charm?  These things are unproductive to think about, but it is only week two and I am human.  As the weeks pass, and my body gets stronger from the extra gym time, so will my heart.