Well, I've been meaning to update this blog for a while and now is the perfect time to do it, because Mr. Wonderful and I are no longer dating.
Yes, I'm single again friends. And, surprisingly, I'm okay with that. Seriously.
Mr. Wonderful is still wonderful, nothing changed there, but he wanted to move on. Am I sad about that? Sure - if it were up to me I would still date him, but that's not how it is. This is real life and things don't always work out the way you thought they might. I'm not going to act like I didn't make some mistakes, because I did, but at least I have the opportunity to learn from them. It was a great summer and I met someone amazing. I can't complain about that.
The great thing is that Mr. Wonderful reminded me that there are people out there who are crazy compatible with me. People that get my personality, that are just as interested in music, movies and pop culture as I am, that appreciate my wacky sense of humor. That fact is incredibly heartening. I guess I knew that all along, but I started and ended this minor relationship with him so unsure of myself and it wasn't until he officially ended things that I was able to see that.
Now, not everything about the situation was perfect, so I'm not trying to set this whole summer romance as "the one that got away," but it was a good experience. I am usually methodical and cautious, but, this time, I took a chance. I'm grateful for the time Mr. Wonderful and I had together. The end result isn't ideal, but God has given me a spirit of hope and I can't really ask for much more than that.
The other good news? The blog is back in full force. You're welcome in advance.
~j
Showing posts with label breaking up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breaking up. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Everything I Was, In a Box
I went to pick up my mail yesterday and amongst the Martha Stewart magazines and Netflix discs were a few packages waiting for me. Yay! I love packages! One was a mug - yay! I love hot drinks! In another, the diploma that signals the end of my disposable income for the next 17 years. - yay! And also, boo! The last one was a big, the contents of which were unknown, until I saw the handwriting on the label. The ex, E-Mail Man, had sent me back everything that was at his house, in a giant box - yay?
Everything I ever had at his house was in this box, from my junk tennis shoes I asked him to throw out 7 months ago to the camera I asked for 2 months ago. Shampoo with almost nothing in it. Sunscreen I used once when we kayaked. Rogue bobby pins and hair ties. A grimy bath pouf. Things that could've been tossed in the garbage, things that were meaningless, things that comprised everything that was left of me in that duplex in northeast Texas - here they were, in this box.
The camera was the only thing I wanted, the rest I told him just to trash. Yet, he chose to send everything back in this one box. That's who I was in that relationship, this box. This box of junk.
But, that's not true, is it? I was more than that box, even though the little reminders of me were in it. And I learned a lot from E-Mail Man, even if I don't want to admit it. I never thought of myself as outdoorsy or adventurous until this relationship. I wasn't good at compromise or telling someone that I appreciated them until him. There are so many things I gained from dating him and the fact that he ended it brusquely doesn't change that.
Thinking about it this morning, maybe he wanted to get all of that out of his house because these things were signs of me. Maybe it's just as hard on him. Maybe he learned things from me. Maybe he thought if he packed and sent all my stuff in a box, he was packing the memories too.
Endings beget beginnings. Getting my stuff back was the true end, so now, in theory, the real beginning can happen.
~j
Everything I ever had at his house was in this box, from my junk tennis shoes I asked him to throw out 7 months ago to the camera I asked for 2 months ago. Shampoo with almost nothing in it. Sunscreen I used once when we kayaked. Rogue bobby pins and hair ties. A grimy bath pouf. Things that could've been tossed in the garbage, things that were meaningless, things that comprised everything that was left of me in that duplex in northeast Texas - here they were, in this box.
The camera was the only thing I wanted, the rest I told him just to trash. Yet, he chose to send everything back in this one box. That's who I was in that relationship, this box. This box of junk.
But, that's not true, is it? I was more than that box, even though the little reminders of me were in it. And I learned a lot from E-Mail Man, even if I don't want to admit it. I never thought of myself as outdoorsy or adventurous until this relationship. I wasn't good at compromise or telling someone that I appreciated them until him. There are so many things I gained from dating him and the fact that he ended it brusquely doesn't change that.
Thinking about it this morning, maybe he wanted to get all of that out of his house because these things were signs of me. Maybe it's just as hard on him. Maybe he learned things from me. Maybe he thought if he packed and sent all my stuff in a box, he was packing the memories too.
Endings beget beginnings. Getting my stuff back was the true end, so now, in theory, the real beginning can happen.
~j
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
I Guess I Need to Break Up With My Passwords Too
I went to sign into Amazon yesterday and realized my password was a variation of the nickname of a ex-boyfriend from almost three years ago. Now, I go to Amazon often (honesty moment: way too often), but somehow I just noticed this. How did I go this long and not change that password? Maybe it was just easy to remember. Maybe I got lazy and didn't want to update it. Maybe I was hoping I wouldn't have to change it. Whatever the reason, he and I obviously aren't together anymore and it's kinda of a bummer to be reminded of him when I go to sign in to buy a One Direction cool, hipster album.
Afterward, I began to do an inventory of my passwords - all 4,000 of them. It seems that I have a bit of a habit of using ex-boyfriend's names, nicknames, dog's names and/or street names for things. In a fit of rage at myself, I changed all of them. This means 2 things: 1. I rid myself of all the daily reminders of my exes I've collected over my adult dating life and 2. I won't be able to log into my Netflix, emails, Twitter, Facebook and about 1/2 dozen other things because I can't remember the new password.
There is always a cleansing after a break-up, especially a major one. We take down pictures, delete phone numbers, emails and texts, defriend or unfollow try to keep that person from popping up in our minds. That's probably the worst part: all the things that we've gathered over time in joy become reminders of our failures. It could be sad, and it often is, but it has to be done in order to move on. Right?
Even though I'm dusting off the remnants of relationships gone south, I still have the hope that someday I'll be able to fill those areas with memories of someone new. Someone whose nickname I can make a password that I won't have to change...ever.
~J
Afterward, I began to do an inventory of my passwords - all 4,000 of them. It seems that I have a bit of a habit of using ex-boyfriend's names, nicknames, dog's names and/or street names for things. In a fit of rage at myself, I changed all of them. This means 2 things: 1. I rid myself of all the daily reminders of my exes I've collected over my adult dating life and 2. I won't be able to log into my Netflix, emails, Twitter, Facebook and about 1/2 dozen other things because I can't remember the new password.
There is always a cleansing after a break-up, especially a major one. We take down pictures, delete phone numbers, emails and texts, defriend or unfollow try to keep that person from popping up in our minds. That's probably the worst part: all the things that we've gathered over time in joy become reminders of our failures. It could be sad, and it often is, but it has to be done in order to move on. Right?
Even though I'm dusting off the remnants of relationships gone south, I still have the hope that someday I'll be able to fill those areas with memories of someone new. Someone whose nickname I can make a password that I won't have to change...ever.
~J
Monday, April 23, 2012
The Beginning After the End
A month or so ago I was broken up with in a email. Yes, I said it - an email. I knew that the end was nigh, but after a year and a half I thought that maybe we would have some kind of conversation about it. Nope. I was Berger-ed (check your Sex and The City references here). No call, no show. An email and that was it.
Huh.
After being sad for approximately one day, I came to the realization that I had grieved about as long as I should under the circumstances. Why be sad when I could get busy being awesome? (Now all I need to figure out is how to be awesome.) I threw myself into hanging out with friends, kept busy with school and distracted myself from the fact that I was alone again.
I'm not so good single. I get dopey and nervous and wonder if I said something wrong and become this blithering idiot, but something about this time is different. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because I know myself better. Maybe it's because I am completely dead inside now.
Whatever it is, I decided I'm going to go out on many, many dates and write about how all of those turn out. I might just meet the guy who I'll make miserable for years to come right away, but chances are I'll have to date a load of turds before I find that guy and you get to hear all about it. Lucky you. Welcome to my journey of a thousand lifetimes...or what feels like lifetimes.
After being sad for approximately one day, I came to the realization that I had grieved about as long as I should under the circumstances. Why be sad when I could get busy being awesome? (Now all I need to figure out is how to be awesome.) I threw myself into hanging out with friends, kept busy with school and distracted myself from the fact that I was alone again.
I'm not so good single. I get dopey and nervous and wonder if I said something wrong and become this blithering idiot, but something about this time is different. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because I know myself better. Maybe it's because I am completely dead inside now.
Whatever it is, I decided I'm going to go out on many, many dates and write about how all of those turn out. I might just meet the guy who I'll make miserable for years to come right away, but chances are I'll have to date a load of turds before I find that guy and you get to hear all about it. Lucky you. Welcome to my journey of a thousand lifetimes...or what feels like lifetimes.
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