Heart, Rainbows, Sunshine & Unicorn Poop: An Update

It's been a hot minute since I wrote a post, hasn't it?

I'm sorry guys, I really am.  I guess I've been so deliriously happy in my relationship with Mr. Wild Card that the need for writing a dating blog has dwindled to basically nothing.  (Note: Mr.Wild Card takes great pleasure in saying he's single-handedly 'killed' the blog.)

Don't get me wrong, W.C. and I have the occasional disagreement, but most of the tifts we have rarely last more than a few hours.  I have to give him most of the credit for that, because I'm weirdly stubborn.  You wouldn't think that by looking at me, since I have essentially zero willpower, but I can give a world-class silent treatment.  If we are huffy at one another for too long, he'll approach me with gentleness and tell me he can't go the rest of the day upset.  I finally found someone who can meet me on a level where I don't want to give up or walk away; he makes me want to try!  Even when I'm being annoying. (Which is VERY, VERY RARE.)

He's good about wanting to work out issues and I'm working on not avoiding those issues by shutting down.  I'm good at scheduling and staying on top of commitments/generally being responsible and he's working on being more responsible.  He's making me better and he'll tell you that it's the other way around.  He takes care of my automobillllleee (DONG! DONG! GRANDPA'S TALKING TO YOU!*) and I take care of his household chores.  He makes me laugh and I make him weep with my wit.  It's fun.  I feel loved.

Bonus: Everyone I introduce him to likes him.  He's friendly, easy-going and congenial. What's more, the people he makes lets me meet somehow like me too. (No, I don't know how that happened either.  I didn't even have to pay them!)

All of that is to say, he's the best and this is probably the most healthy, two-sided relationship I've been in.

Honest.

BUT we're not perfect.

In the past couple of months, I struggled with writing truthfully about everything because I didn't know what would overstep boundaries and if what I wrote might upset the most important person to me.  So, I chose not to, instead leaving the blog unwritten.

We do have struggles.  Naturally, we should.  We're two different people who've been living selfishly for a lot of our adult lives; we only had to consider ourselves for years.  There is a difficulty that comes with that and I want to share those things with you guys, because I want to be forthright and show both sides. There is a catch though: if I wrote about every argument we have, that wouldn't be fair to him, me, our relationship or even to you, reader.

I'm choosing not to use this blog as a means to vent when he does something dumb, mainly because for every 1 dumb thing he does I do 17.  I'm going to be picky about what I share and I'm hopeful you'll respect that.  Just remember I'm the one writing it, from my point of view and as judicious or unbiased as I try to be, it's still my perspective.

Happily,
J

*Sorry for the reference, I couldn't help myself.


 

The Guy Who Said I Love You...After An Hour

*Preface: TO ALL MY YOUNG READERS: CONSIDER THIS A CAUTIONARY TALE! DON'T DRINK!  Well, you shouldn't be drinking anyway, but you get the point.*

A few weeks ago, I had a much needed girls' night with some of my favorite ladies.  We went and painted at one of those 'have a glass (or seven) of wine and paint this *insert inanimate object here*' places, which was surprisingly fun.  Afterward, we headed to a place where we could karaoke.  It was turning out to be a frightfully normal night.

Cut to a couple of hours into our outing - scene opens on me sitting at a table with one of the girls, making fun of people and generally minding my own business.  Another girl has stopped and is talking to a few of the other patrons; one of those patrons happens to be Drunky McGee, the hero out our story.  Drunky McGee, the skinny, dorky, obviously intoxicated guy who hit on me.  Drunky McGee, the poor soul who has gone down in my personal history as the guy who said 'I Love You,' after knowing me for a nanosecond.

When I hang out with my friends, I'm silly and loud.  I laugh a lot.  I talk to strangers in accents.  I have a fun time.  That means I usually strike up a conversation with people who approach me - you never know who you're going to meet!  (What is that old saying?  Everyone's a stranger until you meet them?  I live by that.)  So, when Drunky McGee sidled up to me and start to chat, I didn't think anything of it.  Until he grabbed my hand and started holding it.

I should have run away right then, but I didn't.  I chalked it up to the guy having a few too many beers, pulled my hand away and jumped up on stage to sing a tragic rendition of 'Lady Marmalade.'  While we were away from the table, a friend of my friends' told Drunky McGee that I had a boyfriend.  Ol' Drunky accosted me when I headed to the restroom and asked me if it was true.  I confirmed his suspicions.  He teared up.  HE ACTUALLY TEARED UP.  He went back to his table and I went on to the restroom where some girl told me all about her issues.  (It was a fun night, all around.)

Then it gets interesting - he stopped me while I was walking back to my table and said he didn't believe me.  He couldn't believe me.  I was lying!  He knew he was supposed to meet me and I was 'pushing' him away.  I kept trying to leave and he kept grabbing my arm.  (Internal dialogue: Oh Lawd, what have I gotten myself into now?)  I told him to ask my friends, but then an idea hit me: I needed to mess with this guy.  I was going to be a little crazy with him, in the hopes that he would run in the opposite direction.

As Drunky was asking my friends if I was in a relationship, they responded with a 'yes,' until I gave them a weird look.  One of them stuttered and stopped, saying something like, "Well, she did last week, so unless something happened..." 

That segue lead me perfectly into my best fake-crazy speech of all time.  It was an Oscar worthy soliloquy.  I summoned tears to my eyes and said in a shaky voice: "I'm in love with him, but I CAN'T handle it!  What do you do when you LOOOOOOVE someone so much, but can't come to terms with it?  Maybe I just need to be single! BUT I'm no good single!  I'm a good girlfriend!  I think about him ALL. THE. TIME. But does he think about me?!?!  He's so handsome and wonderful and I'm just awful!  Do you think I'm awful?  Aren't I just the worst??  WAIT! Don't answer that!  I couldn't handle if I disappointed ANOTHER person.  I just don't see why he would like me." 

Then I walked away.

It seemed to work.  Success!  I didn't see him for the rest of the night!  Until we left, that is.

As we were getting ready leave, I feel an arm around me.  It's Drunky, ready to talk.  He leans up to my ear and, well,  here's an excerpt of our (honest-to-God) conversation for your reading pleasure:

Drunky McGee: "Have you ever known that you met someone for a reason?"

Me: "Yes. Most of the time, I'm wrong."    

DM: "Have you ever felt like something is so right?"

Me: "Yeah!  These jeans I have on!  As soon as I put them on, I just knew they'd be my new favorites.  That's about it."

DM: *garbled*

Me: "Huh?"

DM: "I love you."

Me: "Oh, honey. No, no. Oh, you are drunk."

DM: "No, I'm in love with you."

Me: "Oh, honey, you won't even remember this tomorrow."

DM: "Let me come home with you.  I just want to wake up and have you there."

Me: "Oh, sweetie.  Where are your friends? You need to leave.  You need a good sleep."

DM: "I need you."

Luckily, I was saved by another friend who had been talking to Drunky earlier in the night.  I snuck out and haven't seen him since.  I assume he woke up with a raging (and well-deserved) hangover and didn't remember a single thing.

I'm just going to go out on a limb and say I think Drunky McGee had some emotional issues.  I know that alcohol impedes your ability to filter yourself, but it seemed to extended far beyond the regular things I encounter.  I was astounded.  I didn't understand where that even came from; maybe it worked on other girls?  Maybe he was trying to hustle me?  Who knows! 

Honesty moment: I also felt preeeeetty good about myself.  Some dude was all in love with me and whatnot, after just an hour.  *pats self on back*

~j

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

Books Covers: Getting Judged By Me Since 1982

Wow - I almost forgot that I had a blog for a second!  Actually, that's a lie.  I get reminded at least once a week that I have taken what appears to be a blogging sabbatical and that I'm not keeping true to my "one entry a week" agreement.  My apologizes.  I've been busy happy (and popular and awesome and, duh, humble) and I've been neglecting you, gentle reader. 

(Here's a quick recap of my life: everything is pretty great.  Work is good, family is good, friends are good, the bf is good, my social networking is good.  Life is, well, good.  Everything is aligning.  I've, literally, got nothing much to complain about.  I like it that way.)

In thinking about what I wanted to cover in today's entry, I remembered a friend of mine - we'll call him Dating Dan - who just went on a date this weekend.  The date was, by all circumstantial evidence, set up to be perfectly romantic.  The problem?  He just wasn't into his date.  Like, at all.

While I'll leave the details of the date for another entry (suspenseful and totally annoying, I know), the fact was that Dan called me and told me that he was worried about his date before it actually happened.  There was an impending sense of doom surrounding the date, not just the typical butterflies.  Dan had been talking to this person for a few weeks before they actually met and got to know his date fairly well.  He related to me that he was just not sure about how it would work out.

Dan told me his what concerns were and I pushed them off to the side, encouraging him to just go out with this person who was obviously interested in him and see what happens. Why did I do this?  It wasn't just because I wanted one of my friends to go on a date, but it was because I didn't want to be judgmental.

You see, I'm so bad about making snap decisions about people that I'm making a conscious effort to do just the opposite.  I mean, thinking about the first date with Mr. Wild Card, I would have never thought I would end up dating him in the long run.  (I think I even tweeted about the fact that he may or may not have drank a little too much?  Sorry about that one, Mr. WC!)  I really thought I would just have one or two dates with him and nothing much would amount from it.  I was definitely wrong.  I didn't want the same thing to happen to Dan! I didn't want him to lose out on a potentially great person because of a few awkward phone conversations.

Even though I told him to go out and enjoy himself, inside I was screaming - 'Don't waste your time!  You already kind of hate this person!  Don't waste their time!  They sound like such an annoying person!  Seriously, they are going to bother me.  I don't want to have to hang out with an annoying person!  And if you date them, I'll have to!  Think about me!'

But I didn't say that, because I wanted to give Dan an opportunity at finding romance with someone he might have overlooked.

I was wrong. 

The moral here: always go with your instincts.  Dan gave his date a fighting chance, but he just wasn't feeling it.  He knew that he prior to the date, but went anyway, on my advice.

I guess I should go back to judging people - after all, it just feels right.

~J 

Is This Real Life? Why, Yes. Yes, It Is.

I genuinely enjoy Valentine's Day.  I loved it even when I didn't have anyone to call my Valentine.  All the candies and flowers and happiness that float around make me feel full in the typically cold quadrant of my chest where my heart should be.  Maybe it's the optimist (that sometimes comes to visit) in me that makes me all mushy, but I can't help it.  I LOVE love.

And this year, I'm worse.

I'm in a post-Valentine's dreamland, where everything is fluffy bunnies and the world is throwing up rainbows.

The boyfriend (Mr. Wildcard) sent me a spectacular, just right for me, surprise Valentine.  I was speechless.  Okay, okay, maybe not speechless.  I kind of yelped and carried on and was VERY LOUD, but the sentiment was still the same.  Someone cared enough for me to send an incredible, memory-making present.  Basically, Mr. Wildcard hit it out of the park, definitively.

Here is the part where I usually go on and on about how I couldn't believe someone would go out of their way for me, but this year it's different.  I've found someone who loves me the way I should be loved.  Someone who cares for me the same way I do for them.  I appreciate the effort and the thought  behind his gift immensely and I'm wowed, but at the same time I deserve this happiness.

When someone does something nice for us, we sometimes think, "Why? Why would they do that for me?"  That's not the point.  The point is they did it because you're worth it.  When you become concerned with the 'why's' you miss everything that is so great about that moment.  Just sit back and know that they did what they did for you because they probably think you're just as awesome as you think they are.

As much as I talk about how great I am, I don't really rate myself well.  I mean, sure I'm comfortable in lots of situations, smartish, pretty in a Drew Barrymore/goofy face kinda way, tall, subversively comedic, good with strangers, polite, thoughtful, have nice penmanship and about 10,000+ other wonderful things...wait, what was I saying?

In all honesty, I'm always astounded when someone wants to date me.  I don't get it, but the cool part is, I don't have to.  Mr. Wildcard doesn't love me in spite of my dorkiness, disproportionally loud laugh and crooked smile, he kinda loves me because of those things.  And who am I to argue?

Accept the love you're given.  Give the love you feel.

It's as simple as that.

~j

Now You See Him, Now You Don't

Some guys are really good at what I call "The Disappearing Act."  I'm not sure if they watched too many reruns of 'Breaking The Magician's Code' or if they want to have a Vegas act someday, but a few of them have perfected the art of vaporization.  They were around, active, interested and then, *poof* they're gone. Lame.

I started thinking hard about this when a friend from college related a story to me about this guy she was dating.  (A little backstory on her: She's sweet, kind, smart and thoughtful. She once bought me a DVD of our favorite Keri Russell TV movie-which I still have. She is a delight, I tell you.)  Basically, everything was fine and then he stopped returning her texts/calls.  He just vanished.  Barring his actual death/dismemberment - which I have not been informed of - there really isn't a reason to all of a sudden stop communicating with someone.

And let me clarify something for you; this was an ACTUAL RELATIONSHIP.  They were official on the Facebook.  He sent her flowers multiple times.  They went on frequent dates.  Everything was just peachy keen, from what I understand.  They talked about having dinner on a Saturday and when she checked in with him on that Saturday, he never texted her back.  He didn't follow up with her the next day either.  She finally called and left him a message that basically said, "Hey, if you're done, that's cool.  I don't want to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't want to be in one with me."  And she STILL didn't hear anything.

I don't get it.  If, at any point, you don't want to date someone anymore, why don't you just vocalize your problem?  Anything could have happened to him, as far as I know.  He could've been abducted my aliens.  He could've been struck with a hammer causing a case of amnesia.  He could've been recruited to the CIA.  He could've been placed in the Witness Protection Program.  A million things could have happened, but how likely is that?  I give the listed things the same odds as I give the chance of John Cusack meeting me and falling madly in love: 0.000000001%.  (Although we can all agree, if he did meet me he would be endlessly charmed and surely would fall in love, can't we?)

I just think he stopped calling because he was a coward. 

And he's not the only one of his kind out there.  If you don't want to have a relationship with someone, just say so.  Sit down and have an honest conversation with that person.  They might hate you at that moment, but in the end they don't have to question what happened.  They know.  There is a definitive answer.  It's the only fair thing to do.

Listen, I understand that some people avoid confrontation and awkward conversations like I avoid the guy selling those hair straighteners in the mall.  No one wants to have to broach that topic, no one wants to be the bad guy.  I get it.  I wouldn't want to have a conversation like that either, but what is the point of treating someone you liked at some point (we hope) so callously?  By just evaporating, I think the person experiences a greater heartache.  They sit there and think that they were too forgettable or unimportant for a phone call.  How cruel.

Do the right thing, vanishers.  Sit down.  Talk.  Be the 'bad guy' for a split second.  You'll be glad you did.

~J

That's How The Cat Was Killed

A few weeks ago, Mr. Wild Card and I got into our first fight.  Wait...let me clarify: by fight, I mean, I yelled at him, he really didn't know what I was mad about and oooooh, was I mad.  This is where you're like, 'Ooh, gurl! What did he do?,' but it's not that simple.  In fact, I kind of had no leg to stand on, when you get down to it.

Here's a Cliff's Notes version of events for you:

We had a great night.  Really, we did.  It was New Years' Eve and we were out with people we liked and everything was perfect.  My heart was exploding in sincere thankfulness that I got to spend such a super evening with someone I was growing to love.  We tweeted our affections to each other.  We kissed at midnight.  We shared the first moments of 2013 together.  It was a good memory-making night.

At the very end of the night, I somehow winded up with possession of his phone.  I mean, he hands me his phone all the time - it wasn't any different than usual.  Now, I'm not a snooper (yes, I know every girl says that, but I really try not to be) and he tells me everything, so I had no reason to be concerned anyway.  I have never felt, not a single time, that he wasn't telling me the truth.   

Anyway, back to the phone: I flipped through his pictures, looking for one we took together, so I could send it to myself and post it to Instagram.  I found it and went to close the phone, when IT happened.  I promise you that it was an accident.  I swear on my cardigan collection, I wasn't looking for anything.

I'm not sure how (my clumsy Yeti fingers are at fault, I'm sure), but I ended up in his text message.  (Hey, hey, it's a common mistake.  Isn't it?  *gulp* Yes, I'm aware of how bad this sounds.) I ended up seeing a message from him to one of his friends and it hurt my feelings.  It wasn't anything too terrible and had been written a really long time before, but it still made me sad and angry.  The problem? I shouldn't have been looking at the messages in the first place.

Let me put this into context for you:  I was reading the things his friend was writing (which was about their relationship) and it was getting interesting.  He was saying super nice things about me and how his family liked me and how I'm so great (I'd go on about all that, but you're already aware of my good points, so I'll move on). I mean, I had to DIG through the messages to get to the bad one.  Like, load the page a few dozen times.  Bad Jeana. So, so bad.

I was like a person possessed.  I couldn't stop.  I'd never had that inclination before and it was a hard realization that I had invaded his privacy.  It didn't matter what he said to his friend, that was between his friend and him and was written in confidence.  I wasn't supposed to see it.  I took things out of context and just railed on him.  It came out of nowhere for him on a night that was otherwise terrific.  I spoiled it because I got nosy.

Now, he's not completely faultless here.  He did something that warranted my anger, but it's almost a Catch 22: I wouldn't have been angry if I didn't let my curiosity be my guide.  The whole thing wouldn't have happened if I has just stepped away from the phone.  I learned a really hard lesson here: the only thing you gain by violating someone's trust is guilt.  Maybe you don't know about something for a reason, a good reason.  Maybe it's saving you some grief and overthinking.  All truths come out eventually, right?

Even from this bump, something good happened: Mr. Wild Card and I got closer.  We worked through it.  He was patient with my hesitation.  He didn't hold my clear invasion of his personal property against me, in fact, he apologized.  He never even got mad.  He had every right to be upset with me going through his stuff, but he chose not to and I'm not sure why.  He's way better at this whole dating thing than I am, obviously.

Everyone, no matter how much they usually aren't, can be nosy.  They can go past their typical boundaries and be a snoop.  And then there are other people who are just snooptacular.  They are like private investigators.  Either way, you've got to fight that feeling. You've got to understand that if you're supposed to know something, you'll be told eventually.  You've got to let trust rule.  A relationship just isn't going to work otherwise.

I've learned my lesson and hopefully you've learned from it too.

~J