Ross and Rachel

Will they? Won't they? Will they? Won't they?

And they danced and danced AND DANCED around their feelings for each other for years...

I have unknowingly become a part of a Ross and Rachel relationship and it sneaked up on me like a ninja. Two years of wishing everything could go back to the way it was, a few well-timed conversations, one too many moments alone, a couple nights that ended in kisses and BAM!

Just call me Rachel.

Since discovering that both parties have had lingering feelings for each other, I have found myself sleepless and frustrated wondering if the mystery of What's Really Going On will ever be solved between this City Girl and Bachelor Number Two.

This is pretty much the gist of it.

Some days there just isn't enough wine in the bottle.

Giant Baby Steps

So many times in the past couple months I've clicked over to this blog fully intending to write some revolutionary post about being kick ass only to sit in front of the computer screen, sigh, and then close the window. I would read my latest post and realize I had nothing to report. Nothing noteworthy to shout about to The Interweb. Life was....well, exactly that. Life was.

And then somewhere, in the daily struggle to remain on my feet, to breathe in and out all day long while arguing with The Light In My Eyes to either become the man he should be or go away all together, a seed of hope was planted. Through the emotional haze, and the fog that surrounds the act of "going all in", a glimmer of hope twinkled bright enough to catch my heart's eye. A twinkle just bright enough to help this City Girl regain her balance and catch her breath.

Every day and every night I've been hearing sweet, soft words that say, "Stay here a little longer and just keep with these baby steps."There are distractions galore that I could glom onto, but this City Girl is too busy chasing the twinkle. Too enamored with the possibility of it reflecting off of something greater than itself. And too in awe of the fact that when I turn back and try to mentally relive select moments from the past my eyes can only see that those steps that seem baby-sized are really the footsteps of a giant.

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Seven.

Lesson Seven: Don't get stuck in the moment. This too shall pass. 

Remember how I said earlier this year that I'm cutting all the chatter? Well, sometimes the chatter will all but scream at you. I have learned, however, that you don't have to listen to it or let it effect you. Seems like everyone I run into these days (acquaintance, friend, stranger, you name it!) has an opinion on my love life. My everyday life seems to be in order, according to everyone with a mouth, but my love life is clearly in arrears.

Strangers have told me not to give up on love. The other day my chiropractor announced out of nowhere that he's getting me ready for matrimony by correcting my posture. (Nobody loves a hunchback!) Friends from all corners of the world have told me that I need to start dating men, not boys. (As if I'd known those other guys would turn out to be emotionally stunted jerkfaces.) My mother thinks the last guy could still pull it together and morph into my happily ever after. And others think my Prince Charming is just 'round the bend. (If this is true, I'm worried he's a little stupid and can't figure how to make right turns. He should be here by now!)

The only chatter I've heard lately that makes sense to me, the only words that have resonated in my very being, have been these: This too shall pass. 

I was plagued for days this week with a feeling that made me want to crawl under the covers of my bed and not come out until someone checked my closet for The Boogeyman. The feeling was awful. I felt like I was being chased by it. And I couldn't figure out what it was or why it was haunting me until I met up with a friend for one of our Skype dates. As we were talking, the truth, that unidentified feeling, came to the surface. I was sad. I was sad about getting repeatedly kicked in the teeth by love. And I had been hiding it under layers of optimism and big ideas for the business and other parts of my life in hopes that it would eventually dissipate. I was also tired. Tired of dating idiots, boys, whatever you wanna call them. I was tired of feeling bad about myself. I was tired of still caring about these guys who don't really care about me as much as they care about themselves. I was tired of apologizing for feeling the way I do and not having it all together as per my usual. And, lastly, I was tired of waiting for Mr. Right.

The thing about feelings is they don't go away until you confront them, head on, grab them by the horns and stare them straight in the eyes. And so she let me cry big crocodile tears with her via Skype. (Not too unlike a few nights before when I sobbed to my best friend for reasons I wasn't entirely sure of yet.) And while she said a lot of things that night, the advice that stuck with me was to not get stuck in the moment, because as awful as it was it would pass. And while I'm still living out the last bits of this moment, I know in my heart my friend is right. I can't get stuck here. It will pass...

No Sh*t, Sherlock. Seriously. Weed That Ish Out!

Love is, in fact, a mystery to me. I know how easy it is to meet someone new. I know how easy it can be to fall for someone. I don't know why, however, it is so damn difficult to find someone who will stick around after the butterflies settle.

I was at a dinner of about 15 girls last night. We're talking amazing women full of all the spectacular qualities from which leading female movie characters are based. And my friend this morning pointed out that only about 3 of them had a significant other in their lives. Here are a few possible conclusions that can be had based on the aforementioned details:

1. The Beach is full of stupid boys and it's slim pickin's round these parts.
2. These women are all crazy with a capital C and we all just happen to have befriended one another.
3. There are a bunch of idiot males the world over that wouldn't know a good women if she slapped him in the face. 
4. All of us just haven't found the right person yet. 
5. All of us have found the right person, but the timing sucked.

Too many variables for this City Girl. I need a detective. A love detective. Someone who can get to the bottom of this one for me.

Stage Five Clinger

First, let me just say that I hate with a passion how this blog has somewhat become my dumping grounds for all things love related. That being said, I have nowhere else to dump all these stories and I can't write as fast as I type. So, here it is.

Last year I mentioned that I had a certain someone that just wouldn't take the hint and leave me alone. Our relationship ended somewhat suddenly when he decided that he would go where the wind blew him. It blew him into someone else within a week of my leaving his city.

Charming. 

One would think that if you were with someone who lights up your life there would be no need for anyone else. Apparently, this rule does not apply to free spirited people. I think this is crap. And since I hear from him once a month (like clockwork!) I wonder if his significant other is aware of this. This irritates me. It plays with my heart (even though I never respond) and it makes me sad for her.

I told this guy in no uncertain terms that we were through. We were over. No friendship. No facebook. No IM. Nothing. And yet I still hear from this player every 30 days. I've resorted to ignoring him, because it seems to be my last card to play. However, it seems to go unnoticed by him....

What to do? What to do?

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Three.

Lesson 3: The art of being alone.

It seems I got a little sidetracked in my Lessons in Learning How to Rest. This year went from epic meltdown to abrupt stop to putting my life back into hyperspeed mode, but with a hint of appreciation for the little things. And things were at least moving forward, but not at the highest quality of life. In other words, there was always somebody to check in with, talk to, be around, hold hands with, snuggle up next to, kiss. There was never a time without a boy. And while there isn't anything necessarily wrong with that, it maybe hasn't been the best thing for this city girl since most of these relationships have ended in heartbreak one way or the other.


So, now, having cut ties with all men, I am learning the art of being alone. Truthfully, it sucks. Optimistically, it's going to be really good for me since I can barely remember the last time that I was the only one who had say in what I do or where I go. In reality, I have no idea how to master this. I've finally come across a challenge that I have no idea how to tackle. However, in an effort to take a stab at it, I've been pushing myself to find or rediscover the things that I like to do no matter how girly or country bumpkinish, which include (but are not limited to): sewing, baking, cooking, watching endless episodes of Gilmore Girls, shopping, getting massages, painting my nails, writing/journaling, reading, lots of library visits, hiking, running, spur of the moment trips with the SB girls...

In theory, this all sounds great, right? Doing stuff that you like to do without having to consult anyone. But I got used to having someone else have an opinion that would sway whether I turned left or right and I miss it. I miss it more than I thought I would. The uber-independent girl who never liked being told what to do now finds herself lost and lonely without a dictating boyfriend. Oh the irony.

Thoughts on being nice.

I recently found a bunch of old stuff. The kind of stuff you don't realize you still have until you move. Now for the people who move their futon and toothbrush to a new place every few months, they probably have no idea what I'm talking about. But for the rest of the free world that only moves when they absolutely have to (because they understand the total hassle of packing up and resettling) this stuff has probably surfaced for them at some point, too.

My stuff consisted of a letter I wrote to myself about ten years ago (which turned out to not be as interesting as it sounds), a few scrapbooks and the belongings of an old boyfriend. When it comes to old boyfriends I tend to throw out everything and anything that reminds me of them the day we call it quits. But this guy was a different story. He was my high school sweetheart. He asked me to marry him when we were just kids. (I consider most 20 year olds to be kids. Babies, really.) I told him I wasn't ready and with that we slowly drifted apart. Mostly I pushed us apart, because where else can you go from that point? But anyway, I found a box of his stuff when I moved. I couldn't believe I still had all those love letters and things from almost ten years ago. I also couldn't remember why I had kept them with me when I had first moved away from home. But c'est la vie!

Since we called it quits there were only a couple times that I heard from him through email and letters, but I still wasn't ready to be his friend again. So, I just let it lie. Essentially, I ignored him until he left me alone. So, it's no surprise to me that when I emailed him and asked if he'd like some of his stuff back I didn't hear back from him...except we're adults now. He's about to turn 30 this year, we're friends on FB, he just got a new girlfriend and I figured that he would have the politeness to just give me a yes or no. Apparently, I was wrong. I half want to be upset, but my other half understands. And it's not like I'm trying to send him a bunch of mix tapes. I have legitimate stuff! Things he earned! AWARDS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

All this to say, this move didn't just force me to take a look at myself, but all the things that come with being me. Old me. New me. The me I'm working on today.

Moving is a messier undertaking than I had originally thought...