The Epihany

I'm a worrier.

Some of you know this, some of you have found this out reading the blog and some of you have no idea.  Often, when something causes me to worry, I sit and just think about and stew over the circumstances surrounding the thing that's making me have worried face.  (You know the face: furrowed brow, far-away look in the eyes, biting of the lip.)  I spin it over and over in my head, looking at it from different angles, trying to explain what happened, trying to reason out why it happened, trying to figure out how it fix it.

My worrying occasionally consumes me.

And it really annoys Mr. Wild Card.

I found myself worrying over an ex-girlfriend on Mr. Wild Card a few months ago.  We were spending lots of time together and I was learning more about his past.  The more I learned about his relationship with a particular ex, the more it seemed like the break up didn't make sense.  Mr. WC assured me that it had been coming to the point in the relationship where it needed to end, but I knew that she definitely didn't want the break up to happen.  I sat on this for a little while and then, slowly, but surely, a seed of doubt and worry grew into a full-blown plant.

Yes, I know what you're already thinking: HE BROKE UP WITH HER, YOU DUMMY.  HE'S DATING YOU NOW.  IF HE WANTED TO DATE HER, HE WOULD BE.

Trust me, guys.  I tried telling myself that, but my brain went bananas.  I started comparing myself to her (save your commentary, I already know that was stupid) and began to feel threatened by someone who Mr. WC no longer wanted to date.  All the positive self-talk I could muster wasn't helping.  I was stuck in the wasteland of uncertainty, a place I had created for myself.

Then, one day, as I was talking to someone about a completely different topic, it hit me: Mr. WC feels about his ex like I feel about E-Mail Man, my last boyfriend. 

E-Mail Man was someone who I talked about marriage with, someone who I thought about building a family with and then it ended.  He's a perfectly nice person, but he just wasn't MY person.  There wasn't anything 'wrong' with the relationship per se, but we were really different.  Too different, as it turns out.  But when E-Mail Man and I started dating, it was such a breath of fresh air to find someone who wasn't crazy, was well-spoken, was normal and nice that we tried to make it work because there wasn't anything glaringly wrong.  Maybe there wasn't anything particularly wrong with Mr. WC and his ex, but it wasn't right either.  What a mind-melter connection.

Mr. Wild Card had told me several times exactly what I finally understood, but I just didn't hear him.  And, what's worse, I didn't tell him what I was thinking about - which could have eliminated all my concerns in one swoop.  I let my self-doubt get in the way and I let my negative thoughts take over.  Why did I do that?  Because I couldn't deal with the fact that someone so great and compatible is in my life and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop?  Am I really that cynical?

Once I had my own Oprah "A-ha" moment, I struck a deal with myself: don't worry about things that aren't an issue and don't make an issue out of things that aren't even on the radar.  Constantly waiting for everything to fall apart is not the way God wants me to live my life.  It's freeing, really.  I'm still working on it and I still fail at it, but I'm trying.

I'm actually trying.  I'm making an effort.  Geez, I'm must be in love.

~j

Let's Call It A Day

I've dated a few people (in case you weren't aware), but I'm not really good at remaining friends with them after the fact.  There are a couple who are an exception, but that's mainly because I was pretty good friends with them to begin with and so it wasn't weird to transition back to that afterward.  All the guys from my major relationships though?  We just don't talk. 

When there is a break-up, I need distance from the situation and that distance turns into never really talking again.  I'm positive I'm not the only one who does this either.  Honestly, I just can't fathom being close to someone I was in love with outside of a relationship.  I have to break the connection completely in order to heal and move on.  How do you remain friends with someone you cared so much for without going nuts? 

All of this talk is leading somewhere, don't worry!  See, I have this person who I dated on and off for a while, but it just never seemed to work out.  (Wait, let me rephrase that: it would NEVER work out, for a variety of reasons.)  We started kind of seeing each other when I needed a distraction from my life and he was looking for someone to listen to him.  It seemed easy.  Then it got complicated.  Feelings got involved, which I wasn't really ready for, and the circumstances surrounding the time we got to spend together started to make me a little crazy.  It just wasn't working.  After a small argument, we kind of stopped communicating. 

After a little time and a few apologizes, we seemed to pick up where we left off.  Then something happened and it ended again.  This cycle happened a few more times and it shouldn't have.  He had me on a bit of a yo-yo and I just went along with it because I thought he was important, when I should have save us both some time and ended it with finality.  Unfortunately, I cared about him, loved him too much to let it go and I would get lost in the spin again.  In hindsight, I feel like he would feel a bit needy or lonely and seek me out because I'm a little bit of a sucker.  I can't blame him for everything though, since I could have walked away or said no at any time - I just wasn't strong enough.

We tried being friends, but it seemed like he always initiated something during that friendship period.  That might have been wrong of him, but the fact is I didn't put a stop to it.

He and I haven't been around each other or even talked for a while, so I thought it was done.  Then, last week, I get a few flirty texts from him.  Later that same day, I find out that he's 'serious' with his girl.  Okay, now I'm confused.  He sends a few more texts, which I don't answer. 

Then he calls.

Guys, he wants to be friends!  He cares about me and doesn't want anything to feel weird!  He wants me to be normal around him!  Can't we just do that?

No.  No, we can't.

I had to talk about my feelings and everything y'all.  I detest that junk, but I was honest and told him that I needed some space.  I was confused about the whole situation and didn't know if I could really be around him and feel okay.  He didn't like that answer.  He reminded me that I been dating other people!  I had been doing the same thing he was!  I should just be able to do it!

The thing is, I'm not asking him to be my friend.  I'm not asking anything of him, except some distance.  I don't know what being his friend looks like.  I don't know what normal around him looks like.  I've tried both of those things only to be accused of ignoring him or being cold.  I'm not sure where to go from here and I need some time to figure that out.

After time, I'm sure that feelings dissipate, anger subsides, hurt recedes and real friendship blooms, but I'm not ready yet.  I need time.  Lots of it.  If he's unwilling to give me room to breathe, he's being completely unfair.  He wants a friendship on his terms, like he wanted a relationship on his terms.  It just doesn't work that way, guy.  It's got to be mutual, and right now, it isn't. 

~j

First (and Maybe Last) Impressions

First off, I know many of you are wondering how my date last night went.  (Okay, like, three of you.)  If I'm being honest, I'm not sure about how it went.  I had a little nervous chatter before the date (evidence of which can be found on Twitter), but I sucked it up.  The date itself was great.  We talked and laughed and I really did enjoy myself and felt comfortable, but I don't know how he felt.  Oh, sweet mystery of life!  I could just ask him, however I'd rather fixate and make myself crazy. 

For some, the whole joy of dating is the excitement and anticipation of the first date.

Forget. That.   

First dates are nerve-wracking, sometime uncomfortable and a source for my increasingly present heartburn.  My butterflies somehow turn into bats.  What would have been a cute gesture turns into an awkward hand motion that knocks my drink onto his pants. I snort and sneeze like a machine gun and laugh entirely too hard/loud.  Food lodges itself in my teeth with inextractable force.  I start to tell a story I think is funny and forget the humorous part, so it just turns into a tale about how I was made fun of in grade school and woe is me.  While listening to my date, I zone out thinking about how I look at this precise moment and tune back in after he asks a question, which I will inevitably answer incorrectly.  I just want to get the first date over with, because then there is a possible second date where I can feel a bit more relaxed.

I have to admit, I might exaggerate a little about my nervousness for comedic effort, but I really was jittery yesterday.  I really did have a little bit of a freak out in the minutes leading up to actually going into the restaurant. I'm not sure what caused my anxiety, because, as it turns out, everything went just fine.  I was, as many people suggested, just myself and nothing went terribly wrong.  I can't ask for much more than that.

~j

Ways I Fail at Dates: Vol. 2

Well, I have somehow tricked someone into asking me on a date.  I'm exceptionally nervous because this guy is a little older and pretty much has his life together, while I'm still trying to figure everything out.  I wrote a while ago about the ways I fail at dates and we all know how I like to over think everything, so I extended the list.  Here is the addendum:

Intensity
There are certain things that I get really intense about when I discuss them.  And sometimes those things are kind of unimportant.  And sometimes that comes off as being a little bit crazy.  I mean, just a little bit, not like boil your kid's rabbit crazy, but like, "Whoa, if she's this amped up just talking about this movie, I wonder what she'll be like about something that actually matters."  You either really like that (chances: 1 in 10,000) or you don't (chances: everyone else).  There is a fine line between being passionate and being fanatical.

Over-Sensitivity
We all know that I am just a wee bit sensitive.  Sometimes someone can say something completely unrelated to me and I take it personally.  This means bad news when it comes to dating.  For instance, if someone makes a comment about my completely ridiculous loud laugh, I worry that it's annoying, try not to laugh for the rest of the night, then all my dates substandard jokes (in comparison to mine, of course) fall flat, then no one is having fun anymore, then my date goes home thinking, "What just happened?" and then I'm still alone.  (Sidenote: That was the greatest run-on sentence I've ever written.  Let's take a moment of reflection for it.)  This oversensitivity is often complimented by my:

Self-Consciousness
I'm a pretty confident person about many things, but, like most girls, I do worry that I don't measure up physically.  This issue is exacerbated by a first date. 

Here is an excerpt from my brain during a date:  What does my hair look like?  Am I talking to much about my love for Diet Pepsi and/or Downton Abbey and/or ballet flats and/or cardigans?  Is the pimple that somehow grew out of my chin overnight still covered by the entire stick of concealer I used?  Oh, oh, oh - is he looking at the pimple now? I can't talk, cause if I do my chin will move and then the pimple will be more obvious.  What did he just ask?  Maybe I'll just take another bite of this food and buy some time.  And, of course the food would fall down my shirt.  Of course.  

And that, my friends, is only the beginning.

Maybe what I'll focus on is the fact that I was so naturally charming that this guy asked me out.  ON PURPOSE.  I'm not sure you're taking the journey with me, so let me repeat - I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING BUT BE MY DELIGHTFUL SELF and he asked me out.  He's clearly a genius and has incredible taste.  He likes me already, I don't have to go in and try to win him over.  The battle is already won - now I just have to translate that in a one-on-one atmosphere. 

Now, if you'll excuse me I have to cover up a pimple and find a paper bag to breathe in.

~j

Not As Smart As We Thought We Were, Are We Now?

As much as I would like to think I'm never at fault, occasionally (very occasionally) I make the wrong move.  I am, as my friend Melissa says, "the destroyer."  I take perfectly good relationships and somehow find a way to run them into the ground.  I push people away - boy, am I ever good at that! - because I don't want to bother them with my problems.  I want to be the fun one!, the happy one!, the positive one!, but it isn't possible to do that all the time.  Sure everyone has their off days, but my last minor breakdown was poorly timed.

Maybe I haven't been completely honest, so don't hold it against me, but I have someone in my life that is pretty special.  I talk to him about everything and I haven't been this comfortable being myself around someone in, well, ever.  He's sweet and kind, even when he doesn't have to be, especially when I do my whole "I don't need you" dance.  I've been playing it cool, because that's what I do, but it just feels inauthentic.  I want to word vomit my feelings all over Mr. Wonderful, but I'm trying (albeit rather unsuccessfully) to keep all my thoughts to myself.

I totally offended him this weekend.  I was having a bad day, shut down and took it out on him.  He was trying to be there for me and I took it for granted.  Now, he doesn't want to talk to me because I'm a big ol' dummy.  Great.  What's worse is that he's actually a great friend and I probably ruined that too.  I could have just said, "You know, I'm upset, but I'm not ready to talk about it," but I didn't - because I'm an idiot.  I was so distracted by the situation that I locked my keys and purse in my trunk, then had to wait 2.5 hours in the CVS parking lot for Pop-A-Lock.  Yay on that.

At which point in my adult life did I become so complicated?  I used to be breezy and now I'm a pool of dark, muddy water.  I keep running things over in my head, because I'm a girl and I fixate.  I'm fixating now - can you tell?  Why does it take something like running someone off to bring me back to reality?  It's possible that everything will blow over, right?

Gah.  I need a Diet Pepsi, stat.

Idle Hands Do the Devil's Texting Work

I'm usually an advocate of texting.  It's an easy form of communication for short things - pick up this at the store!, are you here?, here's the address - and it's usually how I talk to people now (except when I'm driving, of course).  But could there be anything worse than trying to date in the age of texting?  I think not.

When I send a text to a friend, I don't care when or if I get one back.  When I send a text to a guy, I watch the phone like it's going to do some sort of magic trick.  Every time a phone within ear shot goes off, I'm checking my screen to see if it was me, even though it obviously wasn't.  (Did it just buzz?  I thought I heard it buzz!)  I hate the whole thing because I, friends, am impatient.  If you just texted me a second ago, what is taking so long to send back a response to my witty comment?!? <- See?  Crazy! *le sigh*   

Oh, the agony of waiting for a response!  After 10 minutes of no communication, I'm reasonable and think "Oh, he's busy, right?"  After 20 minutes, I'm a little less reasonable.  "He's busy" turns into "He's ignoring me.  Did I say something wrong?"  When 20 minutes turns into an hour, I'm dying.  "What did I do?  Am I that awful?  I'm an idiot.  I'm being stupid, right?  Yeah, I'm being silly, but really he probably thinks I'm a weirdo dumdum who smells."  (I have a lot of internal dialogue; I really hope that's normal.)   

I tend not to text first, at least in the initial phases.  I know this seems counterintuitive, but it's how I do it.  (Sidenote: A friend's husband once told me that "eager beats pretty," so maybe I should rethink my texting policy.)  Once I actually text first, I spend some time concocting what I consider to be the perfect text.  Breezy!  Light!  Funny!  I'm a fun girl!  Just checking in, no pressure!  Then I send a text out into the universe and it's gone.  It hangs out in the air space while I die a slow death caused by the anticipation of a response.  Oh, Tom Petty, you were right - the waiting is the hardest part.