Old School

This weekend provided quite the unexpected turn of events.

A little over a week ago, while joining my friends for our usual Sunday afternoon beers, I ran into my old high school boyfriend. Yes, that high school boyfriend. The one who had rushed to the emergency room in his homecoming suit to see his girlfriend with blood clumped in her blonde hair. We went to a small charter school with a graduating of class of just over thirty students. For the most part, we all keep in touch via Facebook. Seeing as I live in my hometown, it is not unusual to run into former classmates. I can't quite say there was anything super dramatic about running into him at the beer garden. Only that "The Accident" has been weighing on my mind lately, and seeing someone from that time seemed conincidental.

None the less, the following day, I posted the courtesy "Nice to run into you. Hope all is well!" note on his Facebook wall. Within fifteen minutes, he had sent me a private message asking for my phone number as well as inquiring if I would like to get together. We made plans for this last Saturday to have a play-date for our dogs and grab a beer. I had a slight feeling that he was maybe hoping for more than just a friendly interaction, but I put those thoughts away for the most part. It had been eleven years, after all. Like me, he still lived in the area and he has had all this time to reconnect with me, so why now?

The morning of the non-date, Bodhi and I went to an outdoor yoga class. On the drive there, I was sort of thinking out loud and reminiscing about what type of guy I remembered my old boyfriend to be. I have nothing but fond memories of him. As a teenager, he was kind, selfless, generous, honest, and giving. To put it simply, he exuded Sweetness. But again, we were kids way back then. There was certainly no guarantee that he was interested in anything more than catching up with an old friend. And even so, there was no guarantee that life and heartache hadn't jaded him into Douchebag Supreme. Still, I was excited and the morning was filled with a mysterious wonder as to where his intentions might lie.

I met Sweetness at our predetermined time and location. The first thing I noticed was how cute he looked with his slightly crooked smile and now grown up beard. The second thing I noticed was how beautiful his dog was. Even My Boy was smitten with the duo. He loved having another dog to romp around with and he overcame his usual anxiety to immediately let Sweetness give him attention. After hours of the dogs cooling off in the river and running themselves exhausted, we decided it was time for some human fun and headed to the nearest dog-friendly patio for some adult libations. Our laughter and imbibing went on for the rest of the day, well into the night. We eventually retreated to my apartment where I not so slyly suggested that he shouldn't drive home. He told my I was beautiful. Told me he thinks of me every day. And even way jumped the gun by telling me he wanted to see me all the time and wants to pursue a relationship with me. He also swept my chimney (thank god!).

I had a wonderful time with him and we have made plans to have dinner tomorrow. I am excited, optimistic, happy, and freaked the fuck out all at once. The seriousness and emotionally openness of his words have taken me aback. He did seem a little hurt when at the mention of a "relationship", I retreated a little. But, come on! How can one know they want to be committed to another person after only eight hours spent with one another? Sure, I want to see him more. But I am simply unable to make that kind of decision at this stage. Then again, his only problem is that he doesn't have any problems. Sweetness is still the sweetest man I have ever met. He still is kind and honest. I have spent all of my adult life with emotionally unavailable men, so engaging with one like him should be a relief.

How is it that all I have ever thought I wanted in a partner is someone who is kind and genuine with me, yet when he presents himself, he's not enough of a douche to make me want to seal the deal. I even recently put into words my perfect man and here, Sweetness has manifested but I refuse to get on board. Could it be that I am not as ready to commit as I thought I was? Perhaps I attracted assholes because somewhere in my sub-conscious, I knew they wouldn't work out and I wouldn't have to commit? Am I a perpetuation of the old stereo-type of "Nice guys finish last?" How sick is that? Last night I gave Trinity a recap of my weekend and she flat out said "I refuse to listen to you bitch about having the perfect guy in your life. I refuse!"

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,

How about you go fuck yourself?

Thanks, 

C

If I were to say that my heart could not possibly be anymore broken, I think the Universe would take that as a challenge so I will refrain.  

Last Friday, I had a girls' date with Bodhi.  We met for happy hour beers at our usual spot, then proceeded downtown when, after searching for parking forever, we snagged some delicious sandwiches for dinner.  We then walked a few blocks to an intimate concert venue to see a great show.  The night could not be better. Turns out that we had some other friends in the crowd so before the first act got underway we went on a search mission.  Less than one minute into said mission, we run into the motherfucking Wrecking Ball.  FUCK. How, in a sea of beautiful and inebriated bearded men, do I only exchange words with the one I have been avoiding like the Black Death for over a year? You see, the Wrecking Ball is not just any demon.  He is Satan himself.  No one person or thing in this world can fuck with the wiring of my brain as that man can.  The heartache from our demise is still so raw and so fresh.  My gaping wound that after being gangrenous and infectious, was just starting to heal and resemble more of a battle scar, when he walked up and slashed it all open again.  After successfully not puking on him and finding the other members of our group, Bodhi and I took our spots in front of the stage and I tried to brush it off.  I am certain the old drunk hippie standing next to me, thought I was on Acid as the only thing I could do was stare at the pretty lights in the ceiling, hoping that by elevating my face, no tears would fall down my cheeks.

Though I had designated myself as our driver, I woke the next morning with an emotional hangover.  The kind where you have a headache simply from crying.  My phone rang next to my head as I tried to come to.  It was darling Robo trying to wake my pathetic ass up for our planned hike.  Before calling her back, I decided I should replay the previous night's events in my head and start some coffee.  I laid in bed just a little longer while I felt the way I did over a year ago "Just last night, he was here.  And now he's gone."  I felt like I would die. I found myself asking all the same questions over and over.  I eventually hobbled out of bed to start the kettle, while cursing the Universe for ever bringing that man into my life if I was just going to wake up alone anyway.

As I stumble into my living room, the Universe smacks me upside the head to remind me that I never wake up alone. There it was. Vomit. Shit. Lots of it. Once contained in the forty pound body of a dog. MY dog. My sweet, precious girl that has been with me for the entirety of my Twenties. Who, while I bitch and moan about being lonely, gently reminds me "But I'm here.  And I love you. Unconditionally.  And I will never, ever leave your side."  But the fact is, she will. Not by her own doing. No, she will not abandon me. Instead, I have to make the decision to not be selfish and let her leave this Earth in no more pain than she is currently in. I have to let her go. I have to let her know that I will be okay without her. That I am a better and stronger person because of her love. That her job here is done. 

This Friday, Sister and I will take my dog into her very last vet visit.  And we will leave without her. The outpouring of love and compassion from everyone who knows her and my love for her has been amazing. Even dogless, I know I am not alone.

Dear Universe, 

If you can be gentle after the tough week you have dealt me, that would be great.

I love you, 

C 

 

The Final Countdown

Here it is, folks.  The first day of the last year in my 20's.  That's right.  It's my birthday!  Last night, I lacquered my nails with a few layers of glitter nail polish.  This morning, I woke up at 5am craving a quesadilla.  Weird.

My birthday has indeed been quite the event so far. Bodhi's birthday was on Friday so we had a joint celebration at our favorite stomping ground over the weekend.  I also spent the weekend with The Writer, which was quite nice.  Although today is the actual day, I am sort of already birthday-ed out.  Likely, I will get a beer with friends after work and with any luck, later find myself in a snuggle sandwich between my dog and The Writer.

I recently experienced a surprisingly pleasant moment with regard to work.  Last week, a favorite client caught me off guard by begging me to volunteer on a committee (for the year) with a professional organization I am part of.  I don't know what came over me and why I couldn't say "no."  But I agreed to it.  Yesterday was the first meeting; a 5 hour long meeting.  I was absolutely dreading it.  After a weekend of intense debauchery, all my mind or body felt capable of doing was sitting at my desk in my office, doing busy work and surfing the net.  I even at one point whined to a coworker, "I don't wanna go.  I don't wanna go.  I don't wanna go.  What excuse can I come up with to not go?"  I was feeling the anxiety and nerves boil to the top of my head.  Both of which actually made me physically ill.

But I sucked it up.  I pulled up those big girl panties, headed into the fiery hell that is downtown and pulled my car into the valet.  As the attendant handed over my valet ticket, I said goodbye to my freedom for the afternoon.  I felt like I had just turned myself into jail.  As I entered the space, I spotted one familiar colleague and took my seat before the lunch and program began.  By the time lunch and "welcomes" were done, I felt at ease and glad to be out of the office and doing something new for the day.  We even had a team building exercise involving public speaking and I did not blush.  Not once.  *Public speaking is single handedly the most terrifying experience in the world.

The meeting was informative and productive.  I felt I had something to offer to my committee.  It then occurred to me I should feel flattered my client begged for my presence.  It occurred to me that I am respected as a professional in my field and among my peers. By the time we were set free, I felt a confidence and clarity about myself professionally that I have never felt before. It is a nice reminder that we allow ourselves to grow only when we take the risk to step outside our comfort zones, even for just an afternoon.

Happy Birthday To My Bodhi

"Those who have the courage to undertake the profound change of attitude required to develop true compassion are called Bodhisattvas."

Today is Bodhi's birthday.  Bodhi is my dearest friend.  She is one of the most incredible and amazing people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  She is my biggest fan and supports me in all that I do.  She encourages my craziest ideas and dreams.  Unless they are completely fucked up and would in some way, devastate me.  Then and only then, Bodhi kindly tells me to slow my roll.  In short, I would be completely lost and life would suck balls without her. 

Bodhi is stunningly beautiful inside and out.  But I know much of her beauty comes from her cracks.  She has suffered each ring of purgatory and fought tooth and nail to find her way out.  These cracks and scars are a testament to her strength and determination.  Through the compassion she has found for herself, she is able to spread her compassion and wisdom to everyone else she meets.  This is why I call her Bodhisattva.

As morbid and pathetic as it may be, I cannot be certain I would have survived my 28th year without her friendship and support.  The darkest moments in my life happened last spring.  I once even rushed myself to the emergency room, fearful of doing something stupid.  You all know what I mean; the details need no elaborating.  The point is, it was Bodhi's wisdom and courage and her ability to talk me off my ledge that saved me.  She helped me to realize I am not alone in this world.  We all have our demons.  And we all have the ability to pick ourselves up and fight.

Thank you Bodhi, for everything you do.  I love you more than words can tell.  Happiest of Birthdays to you, my dearest friend.