With Love, Katiefish

It was only a matter of time before I was going to have to write one of these blogs.  And I would like to preface this by saying that this isn't one of those "what does it all mean?" things.  I am not going hallucinate Bruce Springsteen or call my 'top 5' for dinner dates.  But, as these things sometimes happen in life, I found out yesterday that my ex-boyfriend Andy is engaged to be married.

Now, this is not all that shocking in the sense that he is significantly older than most of my exs (except Erik, but the day he gets married, I suspect not much will change).  And Andy, as previously mentioned, is one of my more meaningful past relationships.  I have always felt that way, and it was reaffirmed when I ran into him at the movies that fateful night a few months back.  We were on and off for 2 years.  I went through one of the most horrific experiences of my life with his shaky hand in mine.  And equally relevant is one of my favorite moments in the past 24 years when we came back from a fireworks show on the 4th, and his eyes welled up with tears as he finally told me that he loved me.  And then we kissed, and cried, and kissed some more.  It was one of the most beautiful, genuine, real moments I have ever shared with a boyfriend. 

Whether or not I would have found out about his engagement, I would have still grown nostalgic for him this time of year anyways.  The winter has always made me miss him, because cold nights in each other's arms were the best times spent in our relationship.  And though we had a tendency of breaking up for whatever reason towards the end of summer, one of us would breakdown shortly after the first snow fall missing the warmth of what we were.  I remember the night I put up my Christmas tree all alone at my apartment by the marshmallow. I picked up the phone after a month or so of us not speaking and told him it wouldn't be Christmas without him.  I got my diamond necklace from him a few weeks later. (After a very funny prank involving me believing my gift was actually a bag of blessed peanuts from Africa.  I should've know better - but he even had his parents in on the schtick.  I was pretty pissed.)

My dear friend Kurt intercepted the news of the engagement for me.  And thank God, because he made it tolerable to hear.  I was most comforted by his simple response of "better her than you".  And it's true.  That kid is sort of a mess, always will be.  And for anyone that knows me, that is the reason I loved him as much as I did.  I have a tendency to fall in love with the potential of people more than what they are at face value.  And God Dammit did he have potential.  He just never could muster up the motivation to do anything about it.

So I did dodge a bullet in getting out when I did.  And though there was a long time in which I truly believed we would find our way back to one another in this world, that has been long gone for me for years. I really don't have too much to recover from with this news.  Other than the sad realization that the world keeps on spinning when you and someone you love stop being in love.  So, good luck Mandy.  I will always find it a bit odd that he ended up with a redhead from Oswego.  But I sincerely hope that they are happy together and that he found a love as great as the one his parent's share that he's always sought out for himself.

I will say though, the day the wedding pictures show up on facebook there is going to be some very heavy drinking happening.

Strangers With Candy

I've always loved going to bars by myself.  I love it because it feels like being in a movie.

When I arrived into Chicago on Wednesday night, my intentions were only to spend time with my mother and father, and try to keep them company for long hours in the hospital between treatments.  The American Cancer Society generously put my mother up at the Westin Hotel on Michigan Ave for the time my father was in the ICU.  I checked into the hotel with my mom late Wednesday night and was in awe of how beautiful it was.  The location, the ambiance, the fact that just outside my window was the John Hancock building...  In all my travels and spending nights in amazing and strange places, I have never had the pleasure of staying in such a grandiose downtown hotel.  My intentions were only to spend time with my family, but I didn't want to miss an opportunity to feel rich and fancy for the night.  If only for a few hours.

I tried talking my exhausted mother into joining me for a glass of wine in the hotel bar, but after 3 long sleepless nights in the hospital, the white fluffy king size bed was more appealing to her than a loud bar.  She told me to go out and enjoy the evening, but we both knew that 6am would come quickly and another long day at the hospital was just around the corner.  I would have been more convinced to stay in if I wasn't wearing my new sweater dress and sexy leggings with heels.  I felt hot, I was in a big city - I needed to play pretend, if just for a few hours. 

I sat down at the only empty seat in the bar.  From wall to wall, the room was filled with 30 something business men split into small groups of 4 or 5, laughing loudly over beers and the end of the world series.  I ordered myself a glass of Four Vines Zin and put on my best Emma Stone face waiting for Ryan Gosling to approach and offer to pay for the next glass.

Gosling never showed up.  But a few minutes into my first glass of wine, the seat next to me opened and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before some middle aged man would make their move on the cute redhead alone at the bar.  His name was Paul.  He was from Pennsylvania and in town for a "tool convention".  This later proved to be incredibly ironic as he would reveal himself to be quite a tool.  A few minutes into my free glass of wine, our pleasant conversation about work and the weather turned into a very intense discussion about religion.  Paul is a devout Christian who, while not traveling for the tool business, spends time preaching at his local church praising his lord and savior.  Since he didn't have a congregation to preach to this windy Wednesday night, he decided to save me.

Now, I have talked about my relationship with God on here pretty openly, so I am not going to beat a dead imaginary horse.  But this is inappropriate bar banter no matter what your views of religion are.  And I am sure this man's intentions were good, but I can only take you and your belief system so seriously when you are inching your hand up my skirt. 

I humored Paul in this conversation only because I saw my 2nd glass of wine dwindling away rapidly.  Without hesitation he ordered himself another Maker's and a 3rd glass for me.  Now that I had acquired the alcohol I was seeking, my attention was turned to finding a way out of this conversation.  (Insult to injury, he called me 'Kim' the whole night.  I didn't have the energy to correct him, since I was too busy pushing his hand off my thigh.)

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tall dark and handsome man approach the other side of me.  I would have dropped my conversation with Paul immediately, but the new handsome man was on a phone call.  He was talking about work, and lord knows what he was saying.  I couldn't hear anything passed his incredibly sexy accent.  The moment he said goodbye to his coworker, I swiveled my chair around to size this guy up more closely.  He looked like Clive Owen, with Hugh Jackman's accent, and a game show host smile.  "Excuse me, sir.  But I have to know where that accent is from."

We began to banter, and Paul grew frustrated I wouldn't listen to another story about a burning bush or casting the first stone.  He excused himself to the bathroom and I quickly informed my new Australian friend that he had to help me shake Paul permanently.  "Well that's quite simple," he smirked "I'll buy your next glass of wine and then you'll have to talk to me."  I could tell you this mystery man's name - but it kills the effect, since it's such a God awful Australian name.  So I'll just refer to him as Clive.

Clive and I finished our drinks, long after Paul went back to his hotel.  And the lights were coming up around us in the bar.  "Well, I guess I should be heading to my room." I said, thanking him again for my wine.  He didn't want to say goodnight, and even convinced me to give him my number. A few goodnight kisses were followed the next day by a few unanswered text messages hoping to see me again before he left Chicago.

I am proud of myself for being as well behaved as I was that night.  Seeing as though a goodnight kiss didn't turn into anything more.  And I can't help but smirk every time I see the business cards of these two gentleman tucked into my purse.  But why this night was so perfect had nothing to do with them, and everything to do with how great it felt to be out on my own again.  I can preach all day long about learning to be happy with yourself, and working on your personal internal relationship.  But at the end of the day, it isn't easy sitting by yourself alone at a bar and making friends with strangers.  I still have the ability to captivate the attention of all kinds of people.  And I needed to be reminded of that.

I think I have decided to start taking myself out for nights like this more often.  Maybe get a cork board I can fill with business cards from the random men I meet that buy me booze.  And in the end, have great new stories from great strangers, that when they meet and get to know me think I am pretty fucking awesome too.

Hooker Sex

It was Julie Robert's golden hooker rule in Pretty Woman that she wouldn't ever kiss a client on the mouth.  Because a kiss on the mouth is, and I do agree, the most intimate part of having sex with someone.  Outside of the mouth to mouth contact, sex is just another way to get your juices flowing the same way you could if you were all alone, sans love-making partner.  So maybe that is the key to keeping people you choose to be with sexually at a theoretical arms length away from you emotionally.  Or maybe it just serves as a constant reminder that them being inside you means nothing to them either?  And is that okay?

I have developed a very bizarre non-relationship relationship with a young man I have met a few months ago now.  We are friends.  There are no feelings other than platonic that exist between the two of us.  We can sit on my couch, separate sides, never so much as brushing up against one another's hand.  We talk, laugh, watch tv, the things that you do with friends.  But after a few hours, and before we are about to retire for the evening we engage in some friendly hooker sex. 

The relationship (non-relationship) didn't start off like this.  We had met on a dating site and at first we were cute and cuddly.  Whether we were sleeping together or just sitting on the couch, we were affectionate and driven by a more than friendly desire to be together.  There was handholding, hot makeout sessions that lasted for days, and the evening always ended with a gentle kiss goodnight.

I don't remember how it flipped into what it has become.  It must have been around the time I decided that I wasn't looking for an emotional connection for the time being, but he was still there.  We didn't discuss a change, we just stopped doing the romantic things, and fell into being friends.  Friends with benefits.  But, the real kind, not the Justin Timberlake kind.  And we now end every evening together with a friendly salute goodbye (seriously).

Here's the thing: I like the relationship I have with this kid.  I like that fact that if I don't hear from him for a handful of days, if we don't constantly call/text or make plans to see one another, it doesn't affect me.  When he is around it is nice.  But nice in a way that it is when anyone is saving me from myself on a night I would normally stay inside alone being miserable.  I am not emotionally invested in the two of us together at all. 

I do miss the cuddly part of relationships.  I miss the handholding and the makeout sessions.  And I do think it is probably a problem that I have been laid more than kissed in the past month. But it's safe what I have with this kid.  I am not worried about getting my heart broken, I trust being intimate with him on a health level, and maybe the lack of affection is just a small price to pay to having my heart guarded and still being able to get some.  My therapist doesn't exactly condone this behaviour, but at the same time she knows I am just getting something out of my system.  She compares him to wine for me.  I know it's not going to solve any of my problems long term, but it's nice and no one gets hurt as long as I do it in the comfort of my home with the blinds drawn closed.

It may be cheapening in the act of sex, hooking up without mouth kissing.  But I think it's the opposite.  I am going to, someday, have a relationship with someone that I want to mouth kiss with as well.  And then I won't be "getting laid" I'll be "making love".  And there will be rainbows and butterflies and fireworks...but for the time being I don't have, nor do I want to actively look for, those things.  So it's an exchange of goods, only unlike Julia, I don't get paid at the end of it.  Maybe that's the only flaw in this plan.  Lord knows, I could certainly use the money.

Katie Keller : Death of a Suburban Socialite

Well, I did it.  I maned up and went to Comedy Under The Tap last night.  I haven't been there since my Father's benefit show, and the time before that being my birthday.  I don't enjoy stand-up the way that I used to.  But a combination of things inspired me to go to last night's show.  I wanted to test the waters, see if maybe I would have a change of heart about comedians.  And no, nothing has changed on the comedy front.  I will say a couple comedians I haven't seen in a while were very gracious and went out of their way to acknowledge my recent disappearance and express their disappoint in not hearing my laugh through the crowd every Tuesday. 

But there is just no denying that it's not the same for me anymore.  I sat at the table furthest from the stage, alone. I spent more time scribbling down an outline for this here blog than I did actually laughing or engaging with the comedians.  I used to be the girl, front and center, that would go out of my way to be noticed by the man with the mic.  I would make it a point to be the loudest laugh and to participate in audience/comic banter.  It was what made me fall in love with comedy, being able to interact and feel like even though I wouldn't ever have the balls to get on stage and do it myself, I was still apart of something that I loved.

It was when I was swirling my wine and staring at a torn piece of notebook paper that it occurred to me; these changes are hardly about the local comedy scene.  I am just not that girl anymore.  I don't want to be front and center. I don't need that constant attention and validation from being apart of something.  And when the show came to a close, and a number of people insisted I come upstairs for a drink, I had no interest in being there any longer.  A year ago, you couldn't get me out of that bar before last call. 

I have the greatest memories of falling over Adam in the revolving door, nearly killing ourselves nonetheless.  The nights I spent chain smoking on the patio where a crowd of 10 or more comedians and bar regulars would listen to the epic stories of my life.  I had the attention of every last person in that bar when I called for everyone to take a shot.  Everyone knows 'Katie Keller'.  Everyone has a story of that night I got drunk and made out with them, or someone they know.  My laugh, my drunken tears, my overly confrontational personality.  The good, the bad, the ugly.  I was this larger than life personality that was the life of the party every night. 

In the immortal words of T.I. "the old me's dead and gone".  I not that person anymore. I will forever adore that girl I once was who didn't give a fuck what anyone else thought, and went big every time.  I wear those nights, every last one of them, as a separate badge of honor.  I once drove home from the bar in the trunk of my friend's car.  I have lived.  I have fallen on my ass, stuck my foot in my mouth, drank too much, thrown up in public bathrooms, and have played drunken millionaire more times that I can count.  And the heart of that person still exists.  But she would now rather captivate a room of 2 close friends over a bottle of wine than a room full of strangers and more red headed slut shots than she can count.

I am sure I will allow myself to play "KMFK" on special occasions in the future.  I am not about to go back to Vegas and enjoy a nice evening at Ceaser's sipping a glass of wine and playing video poker alone.  I am going to drink a magnum bottle of gray goose with my brothers, dance with foreigners, and throw up the next morning.  And I will never feel guilty about that.  But Vegas is Vegas.  Not any other Tuesday.

So, no, this isn't about comedy.  This is about looking for something more than I have ever found at the bottom of a draft beer. 

Know Your Audience

I am about to be insensitive to a lot of people that I love.  So I will preface this blog by saying that this is something I am feeling, and though I would like to apologize if what I am about to say makes me seem dismissive of your problems, but I will not.  I will always be there for those close to me, I will always be a sounding board, a shoulder to cry on, and will try my hardest to make you laugh when you are feeling at your worst.  But this blog isn't about these people, this blog is, and always has been, for me.

Recently I have noticed how terrified people are of being alone.  Whether they are just ending a long term relationship, or getting in to one.  Everyone seems to go into panic mode when they are forced to be with themselves.  I am not going to claim that I have never been this way, or had these feelings.  But I feel like everyone is missing the bigger picture when they try to resolve their loneliness.  Of course the quickest fix would be to find someone new to warm the other side of the bed, or in the case there is someone already there, turn your world upside down to ensure they are warming the other side of the bed regularly.  But I find it a bit sad we aren't taking advantage of the loneliness to figure out how to be alone, how to be comfortable warming a bed all by ourselves.

Most of my life I have been alone more than I have been "together".  And though I am often a victim to loneliness, I have made a conscience effort to enjoy the not-together time.  It's required a bit of work to figure out what I like about myself.  Why exactly being with me is sometimes better than being with anyone else.  Sure, I am harder on myself and the decisions I make more so than anyone else is.  But if anything, that makes it that much more imperative for me to learn to forgive myself for the things I can't undo, and to appreciate the things that I have done to make up for them.

I am not going to get on too much of a soap box about it, but if you are worried about being alone, don't just jump into the next relationship that is out there, or rush the beginning of the one you are in.  Evaluate why it is you are so terrified of being with yourself.  Because there is a good chance that person you are filling the bed with won't always be there either.  And then you are going to be left feeling terrified and lonely all over again when that relationship ends.  You will rinse and repeat until you find someone as codependent as you are to stick it out for the long haul.  And though that may be desired by some, it is not the kind of relationship I hope to be in at the end of the day.  If you can't be apart, then you most certainly don't deserve to be together.

I guess all I am trying to say, and I apologize for being preachy, but I am taking this time being single and using it as an opportunity to get to know myself better.  I wholeheartedly believe the person I will be on the other side of this "loneliness" will be a far better companion to the next Mr. Katie Keller than the person I could offer to them today. 

In closing, I would like to point out that it is in bad form to complain about being alone to someone who is very much so alone.  It's like gaining 3 pounds and complaining about it to your fattest friend.  Know your audience. 

I'm Kissing Dating Goodbye

I had a friend in high school send me a book once, in fact, it is still sitting on my bookshelf.  It was called "I Kissed Dating Goodbye".  And I am sure my friend had good intention when he gave me this book, especially at that time in my life when I was becoming notoriously slutty.  The book, as described by amazon, is a blue print for having a Christian relationship in the way that God intended.  It teaches how to develop relationships based off of one's character and their own relationship with God, versus some lust/love feeling that may overwhelm you at first.  It also preaches against premarital sex, along with a few other Christian beliefs I have clearly never followed myself.

Now, you can't make an argument to me using God as your basis.  Because I personally don't believe in "God", at least not in the way I find most people preach about it.  This book made me roll my eyes more than it made me think about my relationships past and present.  I lost the meaning of the book because I was too busy being defensive for my fellow atheists.  Why can't you offer me relationship guidance without it becoming a God thing?  Whether or not there is a God will not be determined until after I am six feet under, and I would like to have a healthy, functioning relationship between now and then.

This isn't a blog about religion.

I have done some soul searching in the past few months.  (Maybe more like the past few days, but I like to have a reason for my promiscuity so we are going to pretend the soul searching started in May).  And I have decided after lacking the motivation to go on a recently scheduled date, the same lack of motivation that has watched numerous messages pile up on my dating site with no response, that I just don't want to do it anymore.  Not indefinitely. But for the time being, I don't want to exert any more effort into romantic relationships.  I can barely make the platonic ones in my life last, how can I expect to meet, learn, and maintain a new romantic relationship on top of everything else already going on in my life?

I love boys.  I love kissing boys.  I love falling for boys.  I love hating the boys that don't love me back.  And needless to say, this isn't a vow of celibacy by any means.  I am still going to have fun kissing boys, or whatever.  I guess this is just the first time I am questioning my constant pursuit for another man in my life.  After every breakup, it's a matter of days before I start looking for men on the web, letting them court me around town.  I usually can't muster up enough interest to see it through more than 1 date or late night phone chat.  And I keep thinking it's because these men aren't the right ones.  But maybe I am not the right one.  At least not right now.

I have to take this time, with my life being in transition, to focus on me.  My finances, my mental stability, my ability to live on my own (and enjoy it rather than just tolerate it). I think if I continued to date right now, it would be the previously mentioned battle of searching for Patrick Dempsey and constantly lowering my own standards to the people that are available at this very moment.  Enough of that.  I am going to make me an even more awesomer version of me.  And then when I am done doing that, that will be the person I flaunt around town.  It will be then, and only then, that I will score my own Patrick Dempsey.