Strangely, in a completely unrelated conversation with a friend today, I found myself asking "So what?" in response to a stranger's ranting about education. I was immediately struck by the impact of those two little words, and on my commute home while sitting in five o'clock traffic on the interstate, decided to try them out on myself.
You see, my usual mental repertoire in the car often goes a lot like this: "(Pulling out of the parking lot) School was great today. I'm tired. I have so much to do when I get home. (Sitting on the entrance ramp to the interstate) I don't do enough while I'm at school. I should be more efficient with my planning periods. (Finally merging onto I-40) One reason school is so wonderful is because it's the one part of my day where I don't give my brain (much) room to obsess about... him. My hometown ex-boyfriend. What is he doing today? I want to talk to him. But that's not what I SHOULD do. I should just stop hurting him by being in his life. I have hurt him so much already. Broken his heart so many times I've lost count. But he's doing so good these days. I'm so proud of him. But how can I keep being supportive of him if I don't see spending the rest of my life with him? I really don't see the rest of my life with him? Am I sure? For god sake, Leah, you are such a mess." By this point I've pulled into the parking lot of my apartment, and can usually be found pitifully bawling my eyes out in the front seat, car still running.
It's what my afternoons usually look like. Yet today, the words, "So what?" kept tumbling around inside my head.
So I loved a man. Loved him but didn't fall in love with him. Is that so horrible an offense? Does that really deserve such a bitter, daily ritual of self-loathing? I put my heart out there. I gave everything I had. So you loved him, Leah. So what? There are so many more worse and more hurtful things you could have done. Hell, you did more than just love him. You inspired him. You challenged him. You helped him be a better man. So you loved him. So it ended.
So what??
("Let it go," my soul whispers back for the millionth time.)
The freedom in these words catches me by surprise. With the sudden lightness in my chest comes a cool, sweeping calm. I want to hold onto this little bit of peace for as long as I can, and I beg my battered heart to let me remember every moment while it lasts.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
The Rest of My (Mis)Adventures, abridged
So, I actually started this entry like two weeks ago. But life, as it tends to do, has gotten in the way and I haven't had time to finish it until now. Oh well. Rewind to the weekend of October 1st.
I have had a simply beautiful weekend. Friday night the girls came over for dinner. I made spaghetti with meat sauce, veggies, and salad. We sat together, laughed together, and smooshed together on my little couch to watch a movie together. I don't remember feeling that giddy in a long time. I'm pretty sure I crawled into my pink bed and fell asleep smiling from ear to ear. On Saturday I soaked up the delicious fall breeze on my back porch with a cup of coffee and a cupcake, then went to a housewarming party. There was a bonfire, a clear, starry night sky, and my best friend huddled next to me. Today I should be feeling good. But instead, I am reminded of my loneliness. My original intent was to publish each of my "Internet Dating (Mis)Adventures" as separate stories, filled with lots of funny details and self-deprecating humor. It was even suggested to me that I write a book of all my hilarious experiences. But as time has gone on, its become more and more difficult for me to find the humor in them. Perhaps I've mulled over them too much at this point... I don't know. But now feel a bit burdened and embarrassed by them. They feel more like a list of my failures, really. My disappointments. And now I just want to be done with them. So, I'm posting them here, in a little purging ceremony of my own creation. The last of my internet dating (mis)adventures. Abridged for your sake.
Glover, the needy, almost-gay vet tech with no car. Claimed he "didn't have any condoms" shortly after I made the mistake of making out with him on the bed in his tiny, one room garage-turned-apartment. (To which I promptly responded that I "didn't have any time to stay.") The bed which was the bottom in a bunk bed set. The top bunk belonged to his four year old daughter. The Sesame Street sheets were the last straw. Lesson learned: When a guy says his car is "in the shop" and needs a ride to the date, what he really means is "I'm a pushover and a huge waste of your time."
Hank, the sexy, incredibly handsome fireman who took me out on Halloween night, got us both back safely to my place after a drunken but incredibly fun night out, and surprisingly didn't even try any moves on me in bed. Took me out a few more times, swept me off my feet, and was a real gentleman. Thoughtful, sensitive, intelligent. I could have fallen head over heels in love with this guy. Yet he dropped me like a bad habit three weeks later in favor of his psycho ex-girlfriend. The one he swore he could never go back to, but who was obviously more familiar, and more safe to him, than me. Yeah... that one stung. Bad. Lesson learned: Karma is a bitch.
Logan, the ex-marine gym manager with PTSD and night terrors, who had an amazing body and didn't mind being a fuck buddy, but who also drank all the liquor at my place (including an entire bottle of $65 champagne) on New Year's Eve and became so drunk and belligerent that at one point had his hands around my neck. I kicked him out of my apartment and called the police shortly afterward when he remained outside my door, shirtless, screaming at me. Lesson learned: the terms "marine," "manager," and "New Year's toast" unfortunately now make me shudder a little with fear.
Sam, the fast-talking ex-frat boy with braces, in school to be an orthodontist, who was just now getting his life together at 30 years old, but who still enjoyed partying with the barely legal sorority girls when he wasn't cramming for his MCAT. On our first date together he actually spoke in text-language. He literally said "BRB" right before he got up to go to the bathroom, and said "OMG" and "LOL" the way a 13-year-old would in a conversation at the mall. Lesson learned: I teach middle schoolers. I don't want to date them.
I have had a simply beautiful weekend. Friday night the girls came over for dinner. I made spaghetti with meat sauce, veggies, and salad. We sat together, laughed together, and smooshed together on my little couch to watch a movie together. I don't remember feeling that giddy in a long time. I'm pretty sure I crawled into my pink bed and fell asleep smiling from ear to ear. On Saturday I soaked up the delicious fall breeze on my back porch with a cup of coffee and a cupcake, then went to a housewarming party. There was a bonfire, a clear, starry night sky, and my best friend huddled next to me. Today I should be feeling good. But instead, I am reminded of my loneliness. My original intent was to publish each of my "Internet Dating (Mis)Adventures" as separate stories, filled with lots of funny details and self-deprecating humor. It was even suggested to me that I write a book of all my hilarious experiences. But as time has gone on, its become more and more difficult for me to find the humor in them. Perhaps I've mulled over them too much at this point... I don't know. But now feel a bit burdened and embarrassed by them. They feel more like a list of my failures, really. My disappointments. And now I just want to be done with them. So, I'm posting them here, in a little purging ceremony of my own creation. The last of my internet dating (mis)adventures. Abridged for your sake.
Glover, the needy, almost-gay vet tech with no car. Claimed he "didn't have any condoms" shortly after I made the mistake of making out with him on the bed in his tiny, one room garage-turned-apartment. (To which I promptly responded that I "didn't have any time to stay.") The bed which was the bottom in a bunk bed set. The top bunk belonged to his four year old daughter. The Sesame Street sheets were the last straw. Lesson learned: When a guy says his car is "in the shop" and needs a ride to the date, what he really means is "I'm a pushover and a huge waste of your time."
Hank, the sexy, incredibly handsome fireman who took me out on Halloween night, got us both back safely to my place after a drunken but incredibly fun night out, and surprisingly didn't even try any moves on me in bed. Took me out a few more times, swept me off my feet, and was a real gentleman. Thoughtful, sensitive, intelligent. I could have fallen head over heels in love with this guy. Yet he dropped me like a bad habit three weeks later in favor of his psycho ex-girlfriend. The one he swore he could never go back to, but who was obviously more familiar, and more safe to him, than me. Yeah... that one stung. Bad. Lesson learned: Karma is a bitch.
Logan, the ex-marine gym manager with PTSD and night terrors, who had an amazing body and didn't mind being a fuck buddy, but who also drank all the liquor at my place (including an entire bottle of $65 champagne) on New Year's Eve and became so drunk and belligerent that at one point had his hands around my neck. I kicked him out of my apartment and called the police shortly afterward when he remained outside my door, shirtless, screaming at me. Lesson learned: the terms "marine," "manager," and "New Year's toast" unfortunately now make me shudder a little with fear.
Sam, the fast-talking ex-frat boy with braces, in school to be an orthodontist, who was just now getting his life together at 30 years old, but who still enjoyed partying with the barely legal sorority girls when he wasn't cramming for his MCAT. On our first date together he actually spoke in text-language. He literally said "BRB" right before he got up to go to the bathroom, and said "OMG" and "LOL" the way a 13-year-old would in a conversation at the mall. Lesson learned: I teach middle schoolers. I don't want to date them.
One day
One day I will laugh at your jokes. The deep kind of laughter
that bubbles up from my toes and makes my eyes water.
One day I will be impressed. By how you fold your t-shirts
and how you made it through the loneliest time of your life.
You are as stable as an oak tree.
One day I will sit under your branches and feel
safe enough to fall asleep and dream of our babies.
One day I will shiver at your slightest touch
and every day feel more beautiful in my own skin and yet
more challenged to become stronger, better, bolder,
just because of who you are.
One day I will know down in the marrow of my bones
that I am in love with you,
that fifty years from now when we're old and wrinkled and slow,
I am still in love with you.
One day my heart will be open, and I will be ready for you.
that bubbles up from my toes and makes my eyes water.
One day I will be impressed. By how you fold your t-shirts
and how you made it through the loneliest time of your life.
You are as stable as an oak tree.
One day I will sit under your branches and feel
safe enough to fall asleep and dream of our babies.
One day I will shiver at your slightest touch
and every day feel more beautiful in my own skin and yet
more challenged to become stronger, better, bolder,
just because of who you are.
One day I will know down in the marrow of my bones
that I am in love with you,
that fifty years from now when we're old and wrinkled and slow,
I am still in love with you.
One day my heart will be open, and I will be ready for you.
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