A Final Attempt

I guess Dressgate was totally worth it since I have never had so many compliments on a dress in my life.  I felt pretty, and that was exactly what I was going for.  Taste of The South was such a fun event, although I still can’t feel my toes.  It was wonderful to see so many people that I rarely run into anymore.  There is one person who I still can’t decide how I feel about running into, Liam (The Many Loves of my Life, Strangers Now?).  

It’s been two years since I've seen Liam, yet he looks exactly the same, he looks good.  Boy always has looked good in a suit, and in a tux dear god!  It’s funny how seeing someone can trig things you haven't felt or thought about in quite a while.  I can’t remember the last time Liam had crossed my mind, but the moment I saw him I had a knot in the pit of my stomach.  I don’t know if it is because I will always have feelings for him, or if I just have never known what went wrong with us, but seeing him throws off my equilibrium.  

After a few cocktails I decided that I looked too good not to take this opportunity to talk to him.  Shoving my throbbing feet back in my heels I threw caution to the wind and went and said hello.  He was nice, cordial, asking several times if I was well.  We said let’s get drinks and catch up sometime and that was it.  I had done it, probably a little drunker than I should have, but at least I had talked to him.  

Although I am proud of myself for talking to him, I have not been able to shake him from my thoughts.  Liam and how our friendship abruptly ended with no explanation is one of my life’s mysteries.  I decided that I would email him.  Just a quick good to see you.  Glad to know you are well.  Let’s grab a drink some time.  Short and sweet and cordial, like our run in at TOTS.    

Sometimes you do things not because you expect something in return, but for yourself.  You need to know you did everything to try to possibly save something that once meant so much to you. That is what that email was for me. It was my attempt for him to get to know the woman I have become, and to find out what kind of man he has become. Four years ago I was a girl trying to figure out what it meant to be an adult. I was idealistic, believing that life could be as simple as falling into the job I always wanted and meet an amazing boy all at the same time.  I had yet to take off the rose colored glass that I wore to look at the world.  

Liam was the light in that world that was starting to be so much different that I had dreamed.  He was more kind to me than any boy had ever been in all my life, and truly no one has been as kind since.  I was used to being called fat, and written off by the guys I went to college with.  When Liam would tell me I looked pretty his eyes showed that he was sincere.  The way they would twinkle and the corners of his mouth would curl into the hint of a smile always gave his thoughts away.  Seeing him I felt like I was that 23 year old girl all over again, looking for that twinkle and that hint of a smile.  But I am not that girl, I am so much better.  I am a woman that seeks approval in myself, not others.  I know who I am, what I want, and that I am the only one that can get it for myself.  

I don’t know that I can ever truly express how much Liam meant to me back then, what he represented, or how hard I would fight for him in my life if it was a possibility.  That is what my email was, one more attempt to fight, just so I can know I did.  Liam won’t respond, I knew that when I sent it.  The final decision about our friendship was made by him long ago.  I guess I was just holding on to a tiny glimmer of hope that he might have forgive whatever it was that destroyed our friendship.  Now I know that any hope for that is gone.  Maybe now my heart won’t flutter if I see him, maybe now I can finally let go.  

#TBT, Cocktail Party Hatred

This is something I wrote before the Capitol Confessions ever existed.  It is actually one of the ramblings that made me think a blog might be a good idea.  Even though the circumstances of my life are very different from when I wrote it, there is still a lot of truth to it.  Thought I would share it with you on this Throwback Thursday.

~

Do you ever find yourself loving something you typically hate?  You know that thing that you always tell your friends you cannot stand.  Then, there is the exception, that moment when you actually enjoy the object of your typical loathing.  

For me, it is making small talk at a cocktail reception.  Don’t get me wrong, I love happy hour and cocktails.  Specifically, the situation when you are stuck in mindless conversation with people about whom you couldn’t care less.  After working all day, happy hour is supposed to be a release, not a stressor.  A big part of my job is fake smiles in-person and sweet reassurance over the phone.  When I am at work, I am “on” all the time.  When I leave, I just want to cut the bullshit and be myself.  I don’t want to fake interest for someone with whom I neither want to be friends nor sleep with.  Plain and simple, cocktail parties are the bane of my existence.  

Then, there is the exception to this.  There are times when I feel irrelevant.  Work is making me feel like the size of a pea.  I need an ego boost, a reminder that I can work the room.  There is an adrenaline rush to knowing only half the people at a party, a surge of confidence that I have not felt in quite sometime.  Nothing is better than finding a personal win when I corner the guy at the party who is avoiding me because we made out in college. I feel even more ecstatic when I realize he got fat.  

I then begin to think that I am the master of the cocktail party, and my party persona rules all.  So, I RSVP “yes” to another event.  I wear the perfect outfit, and head to work all vamped up for another boost.  Then, you get to the party after a long day at the office.  The same satisfaction I had at the last event just isn't there.  The wine doesn’t taste as good; the conversation bores me, and I wonder why I am wasting my precious free time with a room of practical strangers.  I suddenly hate being at cocktail parties again.  Loathing overtakes me and the natural order has returned.  

Why? I don’t need my ego stroked at this time.  Someday, I will despise my lack of importance more than I despise a room full of uninteresting people.  The time will come that I will need to be the life of the party, even if the party sucks.  Until then, I will go around telling all my friends how much I hate cocktail parties, and I will not let them drag me to one.