I grew up in Small Town, TX; Population 1,000 and growing. I didn’t date much in high school unless you count my Jr. Prom date who was Mormon (basically off limits to anyone non-Mormon). My first actual boyfriend pursued me at work late into my junior year. I tried warning him off since my mom wouldn’t allow me to date til I was 18 but that didn’t stop him. He boldly asked for my home number and took it upon himself to negotiate my very first date directly with my mom. I was immediately overwhelmed with nerves. I may have forgotten to mention that this guy was a looker. 2 years out of high school he was still well known for holding his senior year title of Mr. Small Town. He was cool, handsome and for some odd reason wanted to date me! So it was set, my official first date would be dinner and a ball game. It was traditional and sweet. I really can’t defend myself on this one. The combination of cool-factor, good looks and the best first date I could ask for did me in. I fell hard and fast with no real understanding of life, commitment, or love. But it felt good and we labeled it love. He escorted me to senior prom treating me to dinner and a night of ridiculously fun dancing. Like most couples, we did just about everything together. He treated me well and I thought life couldn't get any better. We even got along with each other’s families. Not being Ms. Popular at school, I’d never been fawned after before and it felt amazing.
Our relationship was like all first loves, I thought he was the one, til he wasn’t. I was approaching my college career and he had decided to switch colleges. In the end he said “I just want you to experience your first year of college the way I did. You deserve to be free to explore and have fun”. I’m pretty sure that meant he wanted to be free to explore and have fun.
And that my friends, was my very first heart break. I cried. I cried hard. You know that really ugly uncontrollable cry where you never seem to have enough Kleenex. I’m still curious as to how your body can create that much mucus in such a tiny part of your head. After the crying was over there wasn’t much else to say. I was moving to an even smaller town in East Texas and starting college soon.
Now, I’m not here to bash any of my exs but I dodged a bit of a bullet on this one (well all of them really but I’ll get to that later). In college I heard about two maybe even three DWIs and a horrible alcohol problem. I just can’t imagine getting so drunk you pass out in your running vehicle in the median of a main interception - Mind blown and breakup more than solidified. But don’t you worry folks, I hear from the grapevine that he has since settled down and is married with kids and I am genuinely happy for him.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
The Racer 2010-2012
It’s been a year and 9 months since my ex and I split. I’ve long passed the grieving period of losing my best friend and knew well before the final days that the relationship was over. I was about to turn 29 and my career was still on the rise. He was 26 and a racer by nature, not just on the motorcycle course but in life; always in a hurry to finish ahead. Things were good for a while or we wouldn't have stayed together. Without revealing too much discriminating detail, our relationship started off with a lie. Before I knew it I had fallen and found myself stuck between holding on or compromising happiness. How do you react to a confession that is so disturbing it changes your view of a person? I use the word disturbing as my own personal assessment. I was shocked even if others would have dismissed it. Regardless, like most people do for love, I made excuses and put up with far more than any self-respecting person would. Surprisingly, "Racer" changed his ways for a while which helped us carry on and have fun.
After things settled down, we enjoyed the time we spent together and let life progress at a normal pace. We laughed a lot, teased a little and were highly competitive. I had the patience and will to win most battles where he had the strength to conquer others. A year and a half in, his lease was up and we decided he would move into my place. Things were going well and he showed no signs of reverting back to his old behavior. In hindsight, this was not my brightest moment nor the best idea but I regress. Things worked at first, as I took on the laundry and housecleaning and he mastered the lawn and dishes. I despised the dishes almost as much as he hated to do laundry, so we thrived. Times were bumpy like any relationship but there was always that additional strain of not actually being committed...you know, like married. I will never understand why anyone would want to pretend to be married? Even if we discounted it, that’s exactly what we were doing. The topic had been brought up a few times and if I was asked, sadly, I might have said yes. Towards the end though, the little commitment we had left was all that was holding us together. I know during our relationship I was fully committed but could never confidently say he was the same. Plus, big issues which had turned into little issues had grown full scale again. He was not happy and that made me unhappy. I would spend nights wondering if his unhappiness was caused by insecurities he shared with me only once.
He also hated his job and vented a lot. I'd tell him to look elsewhere but he’d spit back that he didn’t have options like myself, due to his lack of a degree. Other fights would stem from me not allowing him to overhaul my house. The garage he could have and I even allowed him to turn one bedroom into his own little playroom but for some reason he continued to push the limits. I'm sorry but NO, I do not want BLACK walls in my house! Man cave or not, that's just awful! Not to mention, the negative effects it would have on my resale value. I most definitely did not want to repaint if that day ever came. Do you know how much work it would take to cover black? Needless to say, he never won those arguments because in the end the house was mine and there was no ring on my finger. The house was the one thing that kept me independently secure. If we split I would still be ok and I think that bothered him. My home would never be our home until a real commitment came into play. No offense to him or anyone else with a difference of opinion but honestly mine is the only one that counts in the matter.
So eventually things began to get worse. Oddly enough, it left me clearheaded and goal driven. The end was inevitable but I guess I was waiting for something to release me from the loyal hold I’d had on our relationship. Yeap, that’s me, the loyal, every pleasing girlfriend, positively hoping life would revert back to pre-damning confession days. Life would have been grand with my best friend. Life was grand when he was around but that only lasted so long. To my surprise, so did my support and loyalty. I’m pretty sure I remember the exact moment I not only said “I’m done” but I felt it too. I always cared too much and loved too hard. I would have done anything for him and I did for 3 long years. I’d be lying if the thought didn’t leave me sad and discouraged. I hope to never hear the phrase “you’ll make a great wife one day” again. I think that phrase has jinxed me! But at that very moment, I didn’t care and that’s when I knew, I was free.
It was a fairly clean breakup but he moved out in drastically swift fashion; yes, swift as in Taylor Swift. We all know how fast that girl gets in and out of relationships. It was only a matter of time before someone turned her into an adjective! I could tell Racer took it pretty hard at first. Everyone knows it only takes a week of being single to bring back all the best memories. For me though, even the best of memories couldn’t lure me back. It was over and I had completely disconnected myself from any thought of a future. This only made the aftermath harder to bear. I tried to be respectful but stern. Past experience has shown me the results of being nice. Never leave hope in words that hold no intent. People will read into anything positive you emit, including a smile. Show teeth and you’re guaranteed a level 5 stalker for at least three more week. Be brutal up front so you don’t turn callous and short tempered later. I can assure you, After the 20th phone call you will likely lose all empathy and answer just to hang up. If you’re wicked like me a small smile might form while doing so. Don’t you judge me, we’ve all been there and most are guilty of the stalking ourselves! I have no shame in admitting the truth.
On my 29th birthday I was back to living alone and adjusting to my new lifestyle. All these changes forced old break ups back into my mind. It was refreshing and sobering all at the same time. My twenties seems to be full of heartache and disappointment but I was determined to enjoy my last year. Obviously, it was nice not reporting to anyone again, not that I had much to report. My life has always been pretty laid back, even in college. Before this break I really hadn’t been much part of the dating scene. Simply put, I’d meet a guy through school or mutual friends and we would date. I’m almost certain I long-term dated every guy I had a first date with up til this point. Silly little small town girl, I seriously thought this would always be the way of the dating world for me. HA!
After things settled down, we enjoyed the time we spent together and let life progress at a normal pace. We laughed a lot, teased a little and were highly competitive. I had the patience and will to win most battles where he had the strength to conquer others. A year and a half in, his lease was up and we decided he would move into my place. Things were going well and he showed no signs of reverting back to his old behavior. In hindsight, this was not my brightest moment nor the best idea but I regress. Things worked at first, as I took on the laundry and housecleaning and he mastered the lawn and dishes. I despised the dishes almost as much as he hated to do laundry, so we thrived. Times were bumpy like any relationship but there was always that additional strain of not actually being committed...you know, like married. I will never understand why anyone would want to pretend to be married? Even if we discounted it, that’s exactly what we were doing. The topic had been brought up a few times and if I was asked, sadly, I might have said yes. Towards the end though, the little commitment we had left was all that was holding us together. I know during our relationship I was fully committed but could never confidently say he was the same. Plus, big issues which had turned into little issues had grown full scale again. He was not happy and that made me unhappy. I would spend nights wondering if his unhappiness was caused by insecurities he shared with me only once.
He also hated his job and vented a lot. I'd tell him to look elsewhere but he’d spit back that he didn’t have options like myself, due to his lack of a degree. Other fights would stem from me not allowing him to overhaul my house. The garage he could have and I even allowed him to turn one bedroom into his own little playroom but for some reason he continued to push the limits. I'm sorry but NO, I do not want BLACK walls in my house! Man cave or not, that's just awful! Not to mention, the negative effects it would have on my resale value. I most definitely did not want to repaint if that day ever came. Do you know how much work it would take to cover black? Needless to say, he never won those arguments because in the end the house was mine and there was no ring on my finger. The house was the one thing that kept me independently secure. If we split I would still be ok and I think that bothered him. My home would never be our home until a real commitment came into play. No offense to him or anyone else with a difference of opinion but honestly mine is the only one that counts in the matter.
So eventually things began to get worse. Oddly enough, it left me clearheaded and goal driven. The end was inevitable but I guess I was waiting for something to release me from the loyal hold I’d had on our relationship. Yeap, that’s me, the loyal, every pleasing girlfriend, positively hoping life would revert back to pre-damning confession days. Life would have been grand with my best friend. Life was grand when he was around but that only lasted so long. To my surprise, so did my support and loyalty. I’m pretty sure I remember the exact moment I not only said “I’m done” but I felt it too. I always cared too much and loved too hard. I would have done anything for him and I did for 3 long years. I’d be lying if the thought didn’t leave me sad and discouraged. I hope to never hear the phrase “you’ll make a great wife one day” again. I think that phrase has jinxed me! But at that very moment, I didn’t care and that’s when I knew, I was free.
It was a fairly clean breakup but he moved out in drastically swift fashion; yes, swift as in Taylor Swift. We all know how fast that girl gets in and out of relationships. It was only a matter of time before someone turned her into an adjective! I could tell Racer took it pretty hard at first. Everyone knows it only takes a week of being single to bring back all the best memories. For me though, even the best of memories couldn’t lure me back. It was over and I had completely disconnected myself from any thought of a future. This only made the aftermath harder to bear. I tried to be respectful but stern. Past experience has shown me the results of being nice. Never leave hope in words that hold no intent. People will read into anything positive you emit, including a smile. Show teeth and you’re guaranteed a level 5 stalker for at least three more week. Be brutal up front so you don’t turn callous and short tempered later. I can assure you, After the 20th phone call you will likely lose all empathy and answer just to hang up. If you’re wicked like me a small smile might form while doing so. Don’t you judge me, we’ve all been there and most are guilty of the stalking ourselves! I have no shame in admitting the truth.
On my 29th birthday I was back to living alone and adjusting to my new lifestyle. All these changes forced old break ups back into my mind. It was refreshing and sobering all at the same time. My twenties seems to be full of heartache and disappointment but I was determined to enjoy my last year. Obviously, it was nice not reporting to anyone again, not that I had much to report. My life has always been pretty laid back, even in college. Before this break I really hadn’t been much part of the dating scene. Simply put, I’d meet a guy through school or mutual friends and we would date. I’m almost certain I long-term dated every guy I had a first date with up til this point. Silly little small town girl, I seriously thought this would always be the way of the dating world for me. HA!
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Where The Journey Begins
I turned 30 back in June. I’ll be honest and say the approach was terrifying but the after effects were
comical. I was single and thought it was the end of the world. Why do women get so melodramatic
about pivotal peaks in our lives? Maybe because we view them as peaks. Is 30 really my peak? If so, then
I’m claiming 25 for the next 10 years. I can’t knowingly move on from this highly rewarding, pleasant
time in my life. Yes, my life is pretty cool. Well realistically its fun and fairly drama free. I have the most adventurous and spontaneous friends. I enjoy hanging with my folks and can actually call my mom friend. My older sister is settled with 2 kids and a life I one day hope to obtain. Yes, I want a husband and kids but only if it’s meant to be. For now, it’s just me and my little man, Jax, a 5lb snuggle bug shih tsu, in my beautiful home just outside the city. Even work it great and stress free. I am truly happy; happy, 30 and single.
Since June 2012, I deemed it best to spend the last year of my twenties focusing on myself, putting a typical routine into place. You know the usual; work, workout, home, eat, and then bed. I think its so funny how people always focus on working out when they are single. You know, because we have to present our very best when entering the dating world. No one will accept me with cellulite and lazy tendencies. With that simple yet critical logic, working out became a regular occurrence in my off time. So exciting, I know, but what else did you expect from a single 29 year old dreading the near future? The least I could do is keep up the “oh you don’t look a day over 25” appearance. So after work hours I hit up crossfit for the most intense workout of my life and despite our coach’s dismay, a much needed social hour. My girlfriend got me into this cult and her persuasion has kept me coming. In case you were wondering, the rumors are true, it’s tough. It’s guaranteed at some point your heart will try to escape your chest as if to retreat from your failing body! Its likely your body is failing but no worries, you won’t actually die. I’d make a pretty good spokeswoman, huh? Now, sign up and get your workout on! In all seriousness, I’ve made some good friends at “the box” who act as great cheerleaders in time of need. It's also changed my life for the better. So this is where my journey into the elusive 30th year begins.
Since June 2012, I deemed it best to spend the last year of my twenties focusing on myself, putting a typical routine into place. You know the usual; work, workout, home, eat, and then bed. I think its so funny how people always focus on working out when they are single. You know, because we have to present our very best when entering the dating world. No one will accept me with cellulite and lazy tendencies. With that simple yet critical logic, working out became a regular occurrence in my off time. So exciting, I know, but what else did you expect from a single 29 year old dreading the near future? The least I could do is keep up the “oh you don’t look a day over 25” appearance. So after work hours I hit up crossfit for the most intense workout of my life and despite our coach’s dismay, a much needed social hour. My girlfriend got me into this cult and her persuasion has kept me coming. In case you were wondering, the rumors are true, it’s tough. It’s guaranteed at some point your heart will try to escape your chest as if to retreat from your failing body! Its likely your body is failing but no worries, you won’t actually die. I’d make a pretty good spokeswoman, huh? Now, sign up and get your workout on! In all seriousness, I’ve made some good friends at “the box” who act as great cheerleaders in time of need. It's also changed my life for the better. So this is where my journey into the elusive 30th year begins.
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