I Don't Want No Scrub

Remember Stage 5 Clinger? Well,this City Girl does. All too well. And as of this week, am reminded of that guy while constructing a well thought out text message to somehow detach myself from my recent self-imposed "birthday present."

I'm not great at being the breaker upper....especially when it needs to happen after only two dates. TWO DATES!!! Honestly, I don't know where these guys come from! Who needs to send a break-up text after two dates?!

Just for the sake of having a somewhat interesting blog post, let's outline the second (and what I'm sure will be the last) date in list form, noting that this second date was preceded by multiple unanswered phone calls and several half-answered text messages. The letters "L" and "O" have never been so exhausted.

 How was your day, beautiful girl?.....It's raining out. I'm going to take a cab downtown! lol.....I think my cat just winked at me. lol.......I really miss you.....I hope you're sleeping well! lol

1. He invited me to a soccer game and later called asking if I could pick him up on the way. Let's just say the song No Scrubs by TLC came to mind.
2. I arrived at the game a few minutes after he did and learned that soccer games are the international melting pot of our fair city. (Spoiler Alert: This was the only enjoyable part.) If I hadn't been so busy trying to avoid his effort to smother snuggle me I would've leaned back, closed my eyes and pretended I was in the hub of Heathrow Airport. However, having someone constantly try to inch closer to you and hold your....everything, keeps one from being able to close their eyes except for the occasional blink to lubricate the eye sockets.
3. Mr. No Boundaries, now practically sitting in my lap, finally asked if he could hold my hand. In an attempt to give him the friend vibe I hid my hand in the end of my sleeve and handed him my jersey knit stump, claiming that there was a chill in the muggy summer air.
4. Attempt thwarted. He caressed my stump while staring at the side of my face.
5. The game finally ended and he asked if I would drive him home. Oh and did I mention that I had to tell him about FIVE HUNDRED TIMES that I had to wake up early the next day, so going out for a drink was out of the question? Yeah. It's super fun to talk like a broken record.
6. He attempted to kiss me at the car, but being swifter than he, I managed to dive headfirst into the driver's seat before Birthday Eve was repeated.
7. I pulled the car up to his house, put it in park and he sang to me. And not like "Oh cute. He's singing with the radio." We're talking about the kind of singing that was memorized and rehearsed for a one-time performance. For yours truly.
   Will the awkward moments never end?!
8. I followed up his solo with a nice generic comment like "Well, thanks again!" and flashed my now desert-like dry eyes toward the door, hoping he would take the hint. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he finally vacated the car and probably felt the whoosh of wind as I sped away like Mario Andretti.
9. I pulled up to my own house a few minutes later only to discover that he had left his sweater in my car.

So, dear readers, I leave the ending up to you: Burn it or do a Ding Dong Ditch and hope he doesn't answer the door in time?

Auto-Pilot

It's been 2 weeks and 4 days since my temporary move to The Country. Which means that there are only 15 more days to go. (Yes. There is a countdown.) Since moving myself into exile, as a friend called it the other day, I have made lists, I've involved myself in just about every activity, project and/or house guest I could get my hands on. I've stayed busy. I've made dinners. I've hiked....once, but I hiked! I've thrown myself into the very depths of my business and worked from sun up to sun down. I've made sure that not a moment of my day wasn't filled with some sort of....something.

And last night the exhaustion of it all, the forcing of my heart to be on auto-pilot, the ignored feelings came crashing down on this sad City Girl like a building demolition.

Life is still moving forward. My heart still pumps blood all day long, I still breath in and out. I have more friends rushing to my aid than a Facebook junkie. My business is actually functioning better than ever. But...

The unfortunate truth is this sad City Girl can't stay on auto-pilot forever. So, today I'm just sitting here. Waiting. Wishing I knew when the sad will be over.

Us

"I don't know if you need someone better, maybe just different." Part of a conversation I had a couple months ago with The Light In My Eyes after confronting him with the obvious truth: our relationship was starting to unravel right in front of Us. Now it's a leftover clue that still echoes in my head that will probably be the key answer to some future question. A little remnant that still has yet to be sorted out.

It's always sad when you know a relationship is coming to its end; like watching someone die. You can actually see the light fade away.

It was a mutual decision prompted by a lot of talking that sounded sad and was wishfully hoping that one of Us could magically make all things right again, because the bottom line was (and still is) that we loved each other. And it may take months before this City Girl can truly makes sense of all the details of Us. The Us that made both people better in the end. The Us that loved. The Us that grew up together for a time. The Us that is leaving the future open-ended.

And while the Great Sadness has come and gone and still comes around now and then for short visits, this little City Girl's heart is still open. It's still strong. And it's still ready and waiting.

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Nine.

Lesson Nine: Know your seasons.

I moved to The Beach a couple weeks ago. And I know I always say that I live at The Beach. But this time I moved, quite literally, to the ocean's doorstep. As in, I walk outside, cross the street, and I'm there. Toes in the sand. Salt air in my face. Sunshine and fog all around.

A few months before this fabulous decision to move, I had a sad break-up. A break-up that I saw coming down the pike that wasn't so sad because of the person about to leave, but because I knew the next season of self-growth that I had been skillfully avoiding was knocking at my door. And I didn't like the haunting feeling that I was about to hurt in yet another way. Felt like Scrooge anticipating the arrival of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. But I knew that it was time to leave my season of heartbreak and bravely submit myself to a season of healing.

It took the entire four months, one-third of 2011, for my little heart to heal. A time for all those shattered pieces to be gently gathered up, connected together, and for my heart to feel like it could truly beat on its own. And while four months doesn't sound like a long time, it was tough for this City Girl to be all alone. In fact, it was the first time I was decidedly alone in about 2 years. I had turned down dates, set-ups, any prospective males of any kind in hopes that my time alone would reveal some great truth about life or love. Instead, those four months were used to get me back on my feet and able to stand up tall against the corrupt winds of charm, possessed by the everyday douche bag, that seem to whisk toward me on a weekly basis. Those four months were an emotional bootcamp, of sorts, that prepared me to raise my bar when it comes to all things love related.

And now I live at The Beach. Which to anyone else may not mean a whole lot. But to this City Girl it means a new season. Being a solid 15 minutes outside of The City, this part of The Beach is sleepy, quiet and completely unassuming. This place is peaceful. And I can now say, without doubt in my mind, this new season will be one of restoration.

Stay tuned...

Go Team! Rah Rah Rah! And All That Jazz...

The worst part about breaking up with someone you really cared about isn't the break-up itself, but all the moments that come post break-up. Don't get me wrong, the moment itself is usually somewhat horrifying and uncomfortable. In most cases there are tears, wringing of hands, shifting your weight while trying to come up with words that have more syllables than uh and um followed by some sort of awkward good-bye. The thing that always sucks worse, though, than that whole parting-of-ways scenario are the days that follow.

Just a quick recap on how one gets to those post break-up days:
Once you round the bend of the starting line you will stupidly start to introduce your current love to anyone who is willing to shake hands. In fact, you'll even go so far as to tell everyone you ever met that your mornings are filled with sunshine and everything your dear lover does just makes your sentimental heart beat wildly. Life is good. Ah yes, the beginning of almost every relationship is always so bliss-filled and lovely that you forget how sad all those previous days were that lingered on and on. What days are those, you ask? Those are the post break-up days. The days spent filling in every person who ever met your ex-douche bag on how you are no longer together and responding to their sympathies with an, "Oh yes, I would love to meet Mr. X and go on a double date with you and Mr. Happy Pants."

Cut to this City Girl's reality:
This has been the past month of my life. Although, I can't really call the last guy a douche bag-a butthead on occasion, but not a douche bag-but our break-up was the awful kind. It could have been amiable if neither of us was "feeling it" or if things really weren't working out and it was just time for us to face facts, but that wasn't our gig. And every time I have to fill in just one more person on the heart breaking details of our he said/she said situation I keep getting the same response, "Huh. I'm still pulling for you guys." You guys. As if both of have been seen together about town lately. I've got news for these people! Hell, I've got news for the random readers of this blog, there is no "you guys"!

I will say this, though....I miss that guy. And I've tried to explain him away. I've had days where I pretend like I don't care what he does or where he goes. I've lied and told people that I'm totally ready to date again. I even agreed with a friend the other day that I was over him. But the truth is there's a cheerleader somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain that is waving her pom-poms wildly, rooting for him. She just can't help herself. She's too busy rah, rah-ing it up...

Over Easy or Sunny Side Up?

I've been thinking about my past relationships lately in light of yet another break-up. I was wondering if it was something I did or said. Or maybe it was him. Or maybe as Patti, the Millionaire Matchmaker, says: my picker is off. And while I don't have the answer as to why every relationship I've ever had didn't work out, I did discover something about myself.

Not including the most recent guy, I have never been with someone where I didn't find myself conforming my likes to theirs. In short, I'm Julia Roberts from Runaway Bride. Somewhere along the way I lost myself in all those lovers. I'll always know what style of eggs I like, but when I end up back at square one with way too much time on my hands I have to admit that I have a hard time remembering what it is I like to do.

A few things I can tell you, however, is that I never pay attention to or care about budget cuts that apply to firemen the world over. I will never want to move to the country to raise a brood of children/animals. I don't give a hoot about fast airplanes or cars. I hate talking about math and science. And I'd rather be rockin' a new pair of stilettos in the city than tramping through a muddy hike that always lasts hours longer than I anticipated.

I like pink. And I think I've been apologizing for it and trying to make it look like a different color for far too long...