Scaredy Cat, No More.

"Men [as opposed to boys] know what they want and they don't let you in on their inner monologue, and that is scary." -Mindy Kaling

Or for this Girl, used to be scary.

I found myself saying to a friend the other day that I just wished that So and So could have seen the old me; the scared, non-committal, skiddish me. (I wanted 'Ol So and So, who had wrongfully judged my intentions, to be fully aware that the new me is still very new.) My friend responded by rolling her eyes and said, "Yeah, you've come a long way! You used to be scared to commit to a parking space for fear of being blocked in at a party where we both knew you would end up sleeping on the couch."

It was an embarrassingly true statement. I used to be scared. Of everything, including (but not limited to) parking spaces, lunch decisions and commitment to relationships of any kind. When I got my first (and only) tattoo my friends who accompanied me to the parlor, probably to make sure I didn't back out, kept chattering on about their first tattoos and how they couldn't wait to be under the needle again. All I could think about was how many hours I would have to work before I could afford laser tattoo removal. I don't think I had that one-inch by one-inch tattoo longer than 10 minutes before I started inwardly panicking about its permanence.

Today, however, I am a different girl. One might say I've graduated from girl to woman. Although, I hate that word "woman". It sounds like I should be wearing pantyhose and a dress suit everyday. I blame commercials from the 80's. They really warped my little brain into thinking that all grown, confident women must wear suit jackets, shoulder pads and own an abundance of hosiery while having developed a very mature palette for diet soda and low-fat yogurt. I don't drink soda and I usually hate the taste of any food labeled low-fat.

Anyway, lately I've felt confused by my most recent relationship that appeared to be with a man, who at times acted like he was an old man, but was in fact with a boy. I've been remembering conversations we had that, in retrospect, were orange flags. (I would say red flags, but they weren't deal breaker conversations like him saying he wanted to ultimately live on a commune someday. Just things that should have signaled to me that he was not ready to take the next step.) And today I finally made sense of all those things that were said. Today I realized why that last guy wasn't going to work out, at least not yet. I want a man and apparently have wanted one for some time. I thought I had accidentally stumbled into a dating relationship with a man only to find out that he was just a boy parading around in a grown man's life, wearing all the right clothes, saying almost all the right things and acting like he was ready for retirement. And that's ok. He will get there someday.

But I'm not talking about possibilities in the next 3 years. I'm talking about today. I want someone who knows what he wants, doesn't feel the need to constantly fill me in on his every waking move so that he can hear himself say it to make sure it sounds right, and who isn't afriad to go after all those things he truly knows he wants to have in his life.

That idea would have sent the old me running scared in the opposite direction, but it doesn't scare the new me. Not one bit.

Trying Out For The Lead Role

"Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend."  
-Arthur Abbott

I've been rather enlightened lately by TV shows and movies which means only one thing: I'm either spending way too much time on the couch or I've been gaining wisdom from the most unlikely sources. For the sake of keeping a positive momentum let's just say that God works in mysterious ways...via my television.

I was enjoying a few much needed hours of down time the other day, sacked out on the couch, convalescing my sick throat while watching Christmas movies. As I drifted in and out of my sore throat haze that afternoon, my brain was just about to check out when I heard Arthur, from The Holiday, challenge Iris to start behaving as the leading lady in her decision-making. She had been acting as if someone else was in the driver's seat for all of the choices she made for herself. She had let some guy take command of her feelings for far too long and it was time for her to take the reigns again or forever be playing the role of the sidekick.

There they were again: words of wisdom. From my television, no less! And they prompted a string of questions that hit me in that part of the gut that tells you you had better start paying attention or you'll soon lose the game. Had I been playing the best friend role in my own life; the one who is at the mercy of someone else's control? Or had I been behaving as the leading lady; the one who moves forward without trepidation and accomplishes what she sets out to do?

Have I been moving forward in certain areas of my life as I should or have I been sitting on the side lines scared and unmoving?

Without saying too much, I know that there are areas of my life where I've been holding back or holding out....waiting to see what will happen. When, the truth is, I should be the one playing the game, not watching it.

So, dear readers, with some shaky steps on an unmarked path, I will be bravely moving forward knowing that the risk of failing will not be greater than the risk of regret. And if all of my friends' advice is right, it will all work out for the best in the end. If I can just keep moving.

It's A Wonderful Life

I would normally save a post like this for the new year, but when a major revelation dawns via the wisdom of a television show you just gotta say, "To hell with the time of year! I'm writin' this down!"

I was recently watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother, a beloved TV show that I keep watching in hopes that Ted, the main character, will finally meet the woman who later becomes his wife. I assume by the title that the protagonist will, in fact, meet the mother of the children his future self is telling all the stories to, but after 8 seasons it does make one wonder. Aaaanyway, I was rewatching an old episode and listening to Ted tell his future kids how "that" year was the year he lost his job, broke up with the love of his life, and essentially lost his dog, fishing boat, and any other item listed in a country music song and I found myself nodding along in commiseration awaiting the crescendo of a spectacular mope. I was waiting to hear him wrap up his monologue with words similar to, "I couldn't wait for that year to be over." Or, "But next year was THE year for me." But he didn't. Much to my self-loathing dismay, his exact words were, "And it was the best year of my life."

The thoughts that immediately ran through my mind in a matter of 10 seconds or less: It was the best year of that guy's life?! He lost everything! His life was in shambles! Everything he knew to be right and good was turned on its side and any ounce of comfort and dignity he had left was ripped away from him! Are you effing kidding me?! Who's writing this show, anyway?

And then a small voice inside my head whispered: Was this year really all that bad for you?

It wasn't.

This year really wasn't all that bad. Parts of it weren't great, but it didn't outright kill me either. No one died. I didn't get diagnosed with a life threatening disease. And, lo and behold, the world didn't implode. I've been so consumed by the idea that this year was so hard that I neglected to see that hard does not necessarily mean horrible.

Difficulty does not equal disastrous. And life being easy does not equate to a wonderful life.

This was the year of making new friends that I really like, a new home in a fabulous location, learning how to love someone for better or worse, and new business endeavors that are actually working out quite well. This year may not have been the easiest year, but darn it if it wasn't full of twists and turns that got me that much closer to becoming the amazingly gracious old lady that I want to be someday.

And this year isn't even over yet!

I may not be able to smile and say just how delightful the past 365 days have been, but someday I will look back at THIS year and say to my future children how this year was ultimately one of the best year's of my life. Someday this year will truly make sense and won't that day be wonderful.

Thirty Days of Thanksgiving

During my drive home tonight on the long stretch of highway to my place at The Beach I began thinking about all the things I wanted to list out for each Day Of Thanksgiving. Starting last year, I try to write down at least one "something" per day that I am thankful for during the turkey month. The end of the year can become so tiresome, especially as I always feel like it's another deadline to be met and I can't help but take stock of what did or did not get accomplished in the last 11 months. But tonight all I could think of was how I could probably come up with hundreds of "somethings" to be thankful for; enough to last me a whole year!

Today my day consisted of choosing whether or not to work (for the most part, I chose not to), followed by leisurely taking phone calls and emails while catching up on my favorite TV shows; then later a facial and an early dinner with friends. And while not every day looks that way, I do work in trade with friend of mine who gives the most delicious massages, which I try to schedule in every week. Every sunset and sunrise I go to sleep and wake to the sound of the ocean crashing its way on shore. A noise that most people pay hoards of money to hear for only a few days during their vacation. And if I feel like taking a lunch break, I sometimes walk across the street, organic food in hand, to enjoy a half hour of seaside rest while soaking in the sunshine and warmth that hangs over this fair city almost every day.

This is my life.

And I know there is much more to come, but for right now what more could this City Girl want?

Lessons in Learning How To Rest, Part Thirteen.

Lesson Thirteen: Choose Joy. And peace, while you're at it!

I woke up this morning and immediately dove head first into reading. Not my usual choice. I'm more of a news watcher while curled up in a ball on the couch with a cup of something hot in my hands kind of morning person. I can only assume I had been wrestling with my own thoughts in my sleep, because when I woke this morning I didn't have much recollection of my dreams or a to-do list on my mind. Today I had only questions plaguing me from the moment my eyes fluttered open. After plowing through multiple study books, I realized that I have become "comfortable" in this season of restoration. (Yes, those quotations are meant to be there.) I've become as comfortable as one can be when shoved between a jagged rock and a brick wall covered in barbed wire.

I don't exactly remember choosing joy in this season, though. I remember decidedly muscling through a difficult and painful time. I can also recall choosing to laugh every now and then in the face of adverse situations. But choosing joy....well, that wasn't too high on the list this year. In fact, I very distinctly remember choosing to be cross with this particular phrase. My inner scrolling ticker of thoughts has been more prone to notions like this, "You choose joy, jerk. I'll choose cutting phrases and undermining wit!"

Bitter and Cynical, party of one!

And then I read something this morning about petitions in a higher place being made on behalf of us mere mortals when we aren't able to make them for ourselves. And I suddenly realized why I was able to find a resting spot in this heavy-laden and wearisome time. I didn't find it. It was a gift. And for the girl who isn't normally a fan of having decisions made for her didn't really care all that much this time. When it has felt for an extended amount of time that all hope is lost or that the proverbial shit has hit the fan, it's so nice to wake up with a slight grin on your face, hope in your heart and total peace about what's to come.

So, instead of looking this gift horse in the mouth, this City Girl is choosing the joy that has been decided for her. And she's gonna grab that peace that defies all logic while she can!

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?

A Birthday Present To Myself

Happy Birthday to me!

What did I get myself this year? Oh nothing much....just a small catastrophe that I will lay out for you in list form:

1.  In an attempt to start moving on since the fast/intense relationship with The Light In My Eyes, I have decided to start dating again.
2. I got asked on a date Friday night that sort of fell apart (partly my fault).
3. I found said date on a social media site so that I could apologize for somewhat disappearing.
4. Impulsively asked him (who just so happens to look A LOT like this guy) if he'd be my date to a friend's wedding today.
5. This is the part where things take an unexpected turn: He is crazy about me. As in, has been watching me from afar for months, pining away, over the moon, cuh-razy. (Oh. No.)
6. Was kissed long and good (thank you, Sandlot) and should have said no before it started, but darn it if the compliments weren't so flattering that got me into that position.
7. Had every intention of turning this guy down flat when we parted ways and instead agreed to go on a second date with him later this week.

So, happy birthday to me. I was hoping for a pair of cowboy boots and have instead landed in what looks to be another stupid but awesome but stupid relationship.