Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Wow, your bobblehead collection is so cool OR "Don't bring me dow-own... Brrrruuuce!"

One Tuesday ago, in a blogging land far, far away...

"I am getting notoriously un-Tuesday like. Hmm... what to do about that... well, crap. I was hoping somewhere in the world it was still Tuesday. Nope. And since time machines don't exist (that we've seen/experienced yet)(is there a Doctor in the universe?) I'm completely out of luck. But you know what? I don't care. It's all good. You're getting a blog anyway, dammit..."

Just like Alderaan, that blog faded into oblivion a long time ago. But guess what? It's Tuesday! Again! Can you believe it???

(Okay, so now it's Wednesday.) Ahem, so yeah. Let's try to get back into the swing of things, shall we?

... I started to tell you guys about the next fella in Taco Time. And just as a warning, ladies, he is still out there! On Yessir. And horror of all horrors I accidentally clicked on his profile once. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear. He had a new picture, and on my phone it was so tiny. But I knew as soon as I saw that miniscule picture blow up to...well, a little bit bigger than miniscule, I knew right away that I had made a terrible mistake. Now don't get me wrong, he wasn't abusive, or cruel, or inherently evil or anything. He was just crazy. That's all. A little cuckoo.
I first met him as I've met most of the men in Taco Time: on a dating site. I think it was Yahoo personals, which is now defunct after having merged with Match. I should feel worse for knowing that since it means I've been around that dating scene that long (*cough9yearscough) but I'm going to gloss right over that.
He had a decently nice looking picture and seemed like a not awful kinda guy. Maybe he was a little too into video games and yeah, maybe he watched a little too much television. Not even the good kind. He lived on a diet of sports center and adult swim. And Aqua Teen Hunger Force? Meatwad? A floating shake with magical powers? Good God, man. (And may God have mercy on the souls of any of you out there who can honestly say you like that show. I'll be praying for you. Just sayin'.) But hey, after talking and/or chatting for a bit and especially after that big reveal that I was currently pregnant - yikes! - he still wanted to meet up and go on a date. I chalked that up as a win and on a date we went.
Actually, I'm pretty sure the first time I ever met him was when we met up behind Best Buy in Davenport while he was getting his new radio installed. In his Dodge Neon. That was just like my Dodge Neon. Matching matching! And what a guy. Hell, what a girl! Back door on the first date! Haha. Yeah, no.
So after he got his stereo taken care of we went back to his place. His narrow, dank, dark, dusty (the light was so sparse than when it did cut through the space you could see the little dust particles flitting about), cramped apartment. But hey, wow. You've got an awful lot of Mallards bobbleheads all lined up around your tiny kitchen. And wow...

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Why I shouldn't be allowed to watch Parenthood alone OR What happens when I start up to late at night.

I've spent entirely too much time watching episodes of Parenthood tonight. (It should be noted that the current time as I'm writing this is 0334 on Wednesday.)That damn show should come with a warning label.

What that means to you folks is that I'm emotional, and I oftentimes find myself writing in times such as these.

What you are about to read might be any or all of the following:  sad, sappy, crazy cat lady, tmi, revealing, pathetic, honest, courageous to admit, bold, old news (if you know me well), news to you (if you don't), whiny, empowering, oorah, silly, unnecessary to post for all the world to read, necessary to post for all the world to read... I could go on.

One time there was a friend of mine that said I should stop posting all these whiny sappy blogs, and "maybe that was my problem." That person is no longer a friend (for that and several other reasons). Because this is MY blog, and what better place to put such ramblings? I'm not forcing anyone to read anything, but if they do? Hey, maybe they'll learn a thing or two, about me or even themselves. What can I say? It's cathartic putting these things/feelings out into the cosmos.

I feel the need to announce that I am not depressed, just... in a post-Parenthood reflective state of mind. Like corn, this, too, shall pass.

This is a post on a blog that I haven't opened publicly because all the posts were to a certain person. That person isn't... (it sounds awful to say, but...) deserving of the attention I've been paying him with my precious free time, so I'll be done with that. Or at least done with dedicating it to him. It's possible I'll be sharing some of these past entries here in the future as well. In the meantime, readers, friends and family - read at your own risk. You know, or don't. I'll still love you.


It's not you.

It's not me.

Actually, it's kind of you. 

You, and every other guy that came before you.
Every guy that ever cheated on me. Every guy that never treated me the way I deserved. Every guy that ever left me for another girl. Every guy that wouldn't leave another girl for me. Every guy that ever let me down. Every guy that ever broke my heart. Every guy that ever hurt me, on accident or on purpose. Every guy that swore he'd never hurt me like the ones before and then did anyway. Every guy who tried to hide me. Every guy who wouldn't fight for me. Every guy who never saw me for the amazing person that I am. Every guy who said he saw me for the amazing person that I am and still let me go. Every guy who didn't stay. Every guy who didn't turn out to be the man he said he was. Every guy who didn't turn out to be the man I said he was.

It's all of you who've helped me to doubt myself, sometimes on a daily basis. All of you who've helped make it easy for me, on more than several occasions, to foolishly look past the amazing, wondrous blessings that fill my life and see something missing instead. All of you who've helped me to forget that I actually love the me that you've passed up, and that there's nothing I could have done to make any of you stay because this - look around - this is how things are meant to be. For now.

Okay, so maybe it's a little me. But I've had a lot of help. I don't think I want your help anymore.


Sunday, March 3, 2013

Sappy Sunday

So I'm somewhat notorious for my sappy sadsack posts. But I like them. Sometimes. And I like my writing. And I'm trying to hold myself accountable for the things I've set out in this most recent one and by sharing it here with all of you it kind of feels like I'm doing that.
The who doesn't matter. It could honestly be anyone. It's the thoughts behind the words that really matter. I think. Anyway, here goes. The umpteenth and final (hopefully) goodbye to settling for less than I deserve.

It is.

It's seriously pathetic how I wait around to hear from you.
You don't ask me to. You probably don't even know that I do it. But I do. And it pisses me off. Makes me very upset with myself.
It all goes back to this blog I wrote over 6 years ago. The gist is that I always sell myself short in matters of the heart. I have a feeling that this is my lot in life and that I'm destined for nothing but this same old thing forever. Really kind of believe that. Part of me likes that my emotions run so deep and strong, and most of all unrequited. It means that it's truly a gift I'm giving to someone and not just a ploy to get something I want (although I'd be getting love, but that's not what I'm talking about). The other part of me just thinks that I'm an idiot.

I wish I could stop it. I wish I could control who I fall for or attach myself to. I wish I could walk away when I should without feeling like I was making a mistake. I wish I could put my worth and my ultimate happiness in the forefront of my mind and act accordingly. I wish that I could view the men who don't choose me - for all of the many valid and obvious reasons - as passing ships and turn my eyes toward the horizon and wait for the next one to come my way.

I wish I could just not care.

But I can't not care. I don't know how to shut that off. And I certainly can't learn how to care less about or get over someone when they are still around. Even if it's just email. :-(


It's too hard for me to chat with you and think about all that we've done and been and shared, too hard to know the nice things you think about me and to think about the possibly serious things that you don't think about me that I wish you did. Too hard to not spend time with you like we used to. Too hard to watch you choose unhappiness - or at the very least a blase, unfulfilling life that lives below your hopes and dreams - over happiness, no matter what the rationale.

I care about you too much to watch that. And for whatever reason I care about you too much to not be hurt that I wasn't enough to make you choose... me.

It's dumb, I know. Even if you could, if you were in the position to make such a choice, there's no guarantee that you would pick me anyway. You've said before if you were single again you'd want to stay that way for a long while. I didn't change that. It's not my fault, though. I'm trying to remember that, but it's hard. Because I see and think and feel things about you, about us that... clearly aren't there. Call it the curse of the creative mind. No matter how deliberately I steel myself against these feelings and speak truth to my heart about my worth and why I need to move past you, as soon as I get word from you all of that resolve disappears and an unrealistic hope and optimism takes over and I'm lost in thoughts of you and us again.

Who says the things you say to me and acts the way you do with me and chooses something so much less for himself? I don't understand, and I have to stop thinking that it's something wrong with me. Because I don't honestly believe that I'm that flawed. I am, don't get me wrong, but not enough to be unworthy of what other people have and what so many other people seem to take for granted.  I want to be THAT person for someone. That special, that prized, that cherished... THAT person that some man somewhere feels beyond lucky to have found to call his own.

That girl (yes, "girl", because it feels that juvenile).that someone will fight to keep, will fight to have, will fight to NOT have to keep secret. I understand that I am not that girl for you. It's fine. My timing sucks. Luck is not on my side. My dog ate my homework. All of the above. But... I guess it doesn't make anything hurt any less.

You really can't fight for me? Not even to me, just in talking, just between me and you? I told you tonight (silly me, I thought you just wanted to see me and hang out with me)(what DID you think I wanted to talk to you about?) That I was going to say goodbye. "I love you, goodbye", to be exact, and you just took it. Like I was telling you I wanted fries with that. Ok, cool, no problem. Just that simple. No please don't go, no wait, no hey now, let's not be too hasty...nothing.


That's it? Ok.

I guess that really must be it. Maybe it's easier for you this way, easier for your life, easier for her. I suppose I get that. Because if I really was any of the things you've ever said that I was, I'd think you wouldn't let me just fade away. Like you are.

I don't think anyone can really know just what it is that I am capable of when it comes to matters of the heart. I'm beginning to think that I'm the only one who ever will.

You've opened up more with me than you have anyone (I think) in recent years. Last chance...what haven't you said? What do you think about this, about me? How does all of this make you feel?

Anyway, answers/thoughts/inputs would be nice, welcome & appreciated. I suppose, however that they aren't necessary. I'm saying goodbye to you because I can't see another way out of this. Typical literary case of unrequited love. Correct me if I'm wrong.

~ h