Although I don't always show my girly side, there are certain undeniable
girl tendencies that have never faded with time. I fantasize about my
wedding. I envision the perfect dress, the staged photos outside with
my friends and family, and the drinking and dancing to my favorite songs
with my best friends. I imagine me and my future husband sneaking away
from the reception to have a quickie in the bridal room. I can picture
the lingerie I'll be wearing under my dress. And how we will look when
the officiator announces us husband and wife and my man kisses his
bride. Weddings are fabulous. It's a big party you get to have when
you finally sucker someone into spending the rest of their life with
you. You get to eat and drink and be merry - and it's all about YOU!
Now - for someone who daydreams about weddings, I am the worst
person when it actually comes to be in attendance for them. I don't
know if it's a combination of the pressure of having/being a plus one,
the emotions attached to seeing someone else that happy in love, or just
my social awkwardness. But the few weddings I have been to in my day
have ended in disaster. I am sure you all remember the traumatizing
night when I went to a wedding as a friend's date and got my period all
over the seat in the reception hall. At one of my best friend's
weddings this last summer I got fall down drunk and proceeded to wish
the bride a happy birthday numerous times throughout the evening (I
think I had forgotten what we were celebrating). That night I also
managed to make out with 3 different people, steal about 200 Andes Mints
from the bar, and lose a sweater.
I like the idea of weddings, scratch that, I like the idea of MY
wedding. In theory. But when it comes to putting these romantic
notions of weddings to practice, I tend to come up short every time. So
imagine my terror and worry when I was proposition to be a maid of
honor in some upcoming nuptials. Now, I am not going to get into the
finer details of this particularly uncomfortable situation. What I will
say, is this isn't really the circumstances in which I expected to be a
maid of honor. Which just adds to my already high stress level
concerning these types of events. Before my role at weddings was to do
nothing more than to raise my glass when appropriate, comment on the
bride's dress, and leave with the same person I showed up with. And I
have successfully failed at every attempt in doing so.
But let's play ball, folks. Let's put on the dress, perfect my
pacing for the walk down the aisle, and pay extra close attention to the
train of the bride's dress. I will hold her flowers, tell her she
looks beautiful at all the appropriate moments, wipe her tears from
under her eyes so she doesn't ruin her makeup, and keep her hair pinned
perfectly into place. I will write a toast, quoting heartbreaking words
of someone that has said something about love that I actually believe
in. And I will graciously kiss the check of her groom and thank him for
allowing me to be apart of their ceremony.
I know the rules. I know what moments of weddings past I need to
make an extra effort to avoid recreating, and that I need to be the best
possible version of myself for the sake of the bride. Let's just hope I
don't look fat in the bride's maid dress. That's the last thing my
self esteem will need while trying to pretend like I am capable of being
pulled together for this affair. Because on this particular day, more than
just a girl in a dress in a wedding party, I need to be a big sister.
4.28.2012
4.23.2012
Girls, Girls, Girls
I have always bragged openly about my group of guy friends. The same
guys that I made friends with in 7th grade, that I still call my best
friends today. We have picked up a few other guys in our circle over the
years - but I'm a guy's girl. I like doing boy things. I like playing
drinking games, wrestling on the lawn, and sitting on the couch for
hours of Call of Duty tournaments. I guess having two older brothers
would explain my preference to keeping the company of men. I spent my
earlier years desperately trying to be cool enough to hang out with my
brothers and their friends, that by the time I reached high school I had
become the girl that just fit better with boys as friends.
"I hate girls" has been the go to phrase for years as people would inquire why I don't keep the company of lady friends. I don't hate all girls, just most. I've always employed one female friend to keep at my side over the years. And they have come and gone due to falling outs, moving away, all the typical circumstances that come in the way of friendships. But I never really lost sleep over it because I didn't really think I needed to have a close girlfriend as long as I had my boys.
Over the past year I have found myself keeping the company of more female friends. And I feel like I've been missing out on what having girl friends offer that is so dramatically different than the things I have always had in my relationships with males. Girls aren't bad. I have just always been so insecure that having another female close to me is a mirror to all the things I don't have, don't do well, or don't do right at all. I guess I have just finally come to a point in my life where I am a little more self assured, or perhaps ready to learn from the females around me how to resolve the shortcomings that I do so clearly have.
I don't want to discount any of my previous female friends, because the ones I held close (and still do) helped me through a lot of growing. And I would never dream of replacing my bros with an all female cast. But I have been having sleepovers lately with Chelsea, ones were we can lie around bralass, watch hours of television, drink mimosas and talk about boys. Just this past weekend I got to spend the night laughing and drinking wine with Erin and Beth. When I go to bars and clubs now, and I am with women, I have an opportunity to meet people. Unlike when I would frequent places with a group of boys. Men just naturally assume I am sleeping with one or more of them.
I was talking to the Tetris Piece guy today (welcome to your blog name, buddy) and he mentioned what a red flag it is when a girl doesn't have any girlfriends. And I totally get it now. All the times I spent thinking I didn't need consistent female interactions; I was the worst possible version on myself. Being around dudes is great for my self esteem. Whether they are treating me like a girl, in those times I am the only girl. Or when they are treating me like one of the guys, I am cool enough to be with the guys.
Adam and I used to have full-fledged slapping contests. I would, on a semi-regular basis, get slapped across the face at full force. And I loved it. I loved that it didn't phase him that I had lady parts, but rather I was Katie Keller, and I can take a hit to the face just like a bro. Travis has body slammed me into hard surfaces more than most professional wrestlers experience throughout their careers. I wouldn't trade being one of the guys for anything in the world. On the other hand, I haven't been able to talk to the guys about that dude I was with a few weeks ago that was an unnecessarily rough kisser (this coming from the girl that likes a good choking). Or talk about missing HSF as much as I do, or the residual feelings from my misguided one night stand. Or what it feels like to have love/hate relationship with a younger sister. Or someone to call up terrified when your period is a few days late.
I'm glad I finally appreciate the company of girl friends, and I am even more happy that I have managed to find a group of them that are just as boyish as I am at times. And never make me feel like less of a girl for having my more masculine tendencies. So if you are one of those girls that "doesn't get along with other girls" try harder, I promise when you find the good ones you'll see not all girls are bad. And if anything, you'll like triple your wardrobe.
"I hate girls" has been the go to phrase for years as people would inquire why I don't keep the company of lady friends. I don't hate all girls, just most. I've always employed one female friend to keep at my side over the years. And they have come and gone due to falling outs, moving away, all the typical circumstances that come in the way of friendships. But I never really lost sleep over it because I didn't really think I needed to have a close girlfriend as long as I had my boys.
Over the past year I have found myself keeping the company of more female friends. And I feel like I've been missing out on what having girl friends offer that is so dramatically different than the things I have always had in my relationships with males. Girls aren't bad. I have just always been so insecure that having another female close to me is a mirror to all the things I don't have, don't do well, or don't do right at all. I guess I have just finally come to a point in my life where I am a little more self assured, or perhaps ready to learn from the females around me how to resolve the shortcomings that I do so clearly have.
I don't want to discount any of my previous female friends, because the ones I held close (and still do) helped me through a lot of growing. And I would never dream of replacing my bros with an all female cast. But I have been having sleepovers lately with Chelsea, ones were we can lie around bralass, watch hours of television, drink mimosas and talk about boys. Just this past weekend I got to spend the night laughing and drinking wine with Erin and Beth. When I go to bars and clubs now, and I am with women, I have an opportunity to meet people. Unlike when I would frequent places with a group of boys. Men just naturally assume I am sleeping with one or more of them.
I was talking to the Tetris Piece guy today (welcome to your blog name, buddy) and he mentioned what a red flag it is when a girl doesn't have any girlfriends. And I totally get it now. All the times I spent thinking I didn't need consistent female interactions; I was the worst possible version on myself. Being around dudes is great for my self esteem. Whether they are treating me like a girl, in those times I am the only girl. Or when they are treating me like one of the guys, I am cool enough to be with the guys.
Adam and I used to have full-fledged slapping contests. I would, on a semi-regular basis, get slapped across the face at full force. And I loved it. I loved that it didn't phase him that I had lady parts, but rather I was Katie Keller, and I can take a hit to the face just like a bro. Travis has body slammed me into hard surfaces more than most professional wrestlers experience throughout their careers. I wouldn't trade being one of the guys for anything in the world. On the other hand, I haven't been able to talk to the guys about that dude I was with a few weeks ago that was an unnecessarily rough kisser (this coming from the girl that likes a good choking). Or talk about missing HSF as much as I do, or the residual feelings from my misguided one night stand. Or what it feels like to have love/hate relationship with a younger sister. Or someone to call up terrified when your period is a few days late.
I'm glad I finally appreciate the company of girl friends, and I am even more happy that I have managed to find a group of them that are just as boyish as I am at times. And never make me feel like less of a girl for having my more masculine tendencies. So if you are one of those girls that "doesn't get along with other girls" try harder, I promise when you find the good ones you'll see not all girls are bad. And if anything, you'll like triple your wardrobe.
4.19.2012
The War Between Remembering and Forgetting
Whenever I end a relationship with someone I really care about, I allow myself a decent amount of bounce back time. Depending on the length and depth of the relationship, I try to make it a point to shake most of the residual feelings after a month or two. Because I hate the idea that once that person is gone from my life, they are still getting a piece of me.
With that being said, it's been over a month since my last contact with HSF. We left each other in a very civil manner. There weren't any hurtful exchanges. It was a very mature correspondence in which we both came to terms with the fact that we are just looking for different things in life right now. And that it wouldn't be fair to either one of us to continue in a relationship we weren't seeing eye to eye on. I was actually impressed, despite how immature some of our arguments in the past had a tendency of becoming. I read his final words of goodbye a few hundred times, and then prepared myself for a few weeks of tears, red wine, and meaningless sex with strangers.
A month later, I am happy to announce I only had meaningless sex with one stranger. And even more impressively, I have refrained from any contact with HSF. To the extreme in which I haven't the ONCE peaked at his facebook, twitter, tumblr, G+, etc. When Charlie and I broke up, I almost broke my computer mouse from the shear frequency of hitting the refresh button. I wanted to know who he was talking to, where he was going, when he was going there. This time around I have literally put myself on a HSF blackout and have seen NOTHING concerning him since the last email he sent. So you would think that getting over him would be faster than the previous man-friends I dangled on to feelings to for longer than I should have.
Here's the problem. The only connection I still have to HSF is how much I miss him. This feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me want to call him, or click through his tumblr, or send him a g-chat message. It's not constant, it ebbs and flows. It hits me the hardest when I see something funny on tv, or I read an interesting article about this upcoming election. I think about how his music is coming along, and how his classes are going. And I want to reach out so bad sometimes, but I know as a result of our last conversation that there isn't a point. He isn't going to stop looking for what it is he wants, and I am not willing to settle for less than what I want. So there is no point in missing him anymore, I understand that there just can not be a future there.
I do also understand though that once I stop missing him, once I turn off that part of my brain and heart that longs for all night conversations and late night sexting, that this is infinitely done. That the things I was looking forward to sharing with him this summer are no longer feelings I can hold on to. No 100 hour long television marathons, no Aziz Ansari in the city. Those things aren't future memories. They finally die like our relationship did a month ago.
So I'm mentally preparing for an emotional purge, one that will hopefully be healthier than those past. And that at some point, sooner than later, I will stop letting him have that piece of me by finally forgetting to miss him.
4.17.2012
Strings and Things
Whenever I go to a concert, I say the most obvious shit out loud and
people just look at me like I am completely insane. I say things like
"how cool is it that those instruments are making those sounds?" or
"that's actually his voice - all through this venue - he's singing it in
real life - right now!" I understand that this is what I concert is.
It's live music. I've seen a bazillion of these God Damn things, and I
am never short of amazed every time.
I went out on a limb and bought Death Cab for Cutie tickets for Chelsea's birthday shortly after we went to go see Jack's Mannequin together. This was before the last 3 months of sleepovers, shenanigans and becoming incredibly close. I thought, in the off chance that this girl and I actually got along, I would absolutely love to go see Death Cab. I have loved Ben Gibbard for years and have never had the opportunity. I was a little confused to see that they were playing at the Chicago Theater versus a venue that is more conducive to a standing audience around the stage. I discovered this was because this current tour was not just Death Cab, but Death Cab with the Magik Orchestra. Interesting. Death Cab is my go to sleepy time music (or with HSF it was sexy time music). To imagine that sound backed by string instruments sounded like a pretty genius idea.
After a delicious meal, a ton of ciders, and 3 hours of people gawking - we made our way to the show and took our seats that, to be honest, weren't the greatest. In that theater, though, you can see pretty much everything from anywhere. We were just incredibly high up, which made my buzzed, in-tall-heels self a little concerned. The second the lights were dimmed, and I heard the first bow slide across a violin I thought my heart was going to explode. If you have never had the luxury of seeing an orchestra live - stop reading this blog immediately and go find one. I work in a music store for goodness sake, and I am still blown away with string instruments. It's carved wood - with tightly wound metal strings across the top - that are rubbed against by horse hair. How is it even possible that that would make one of the most incredibly tragic, heartbreaking, stunning, beautiful sounds known to man?
If you are a Death Cab fan you know that Ben Gibbard has an incredible way of making a song rise and fall over 5 minutes that you don't always find in popular music. It's more than an a, b, a, b, c, b format. It sometimes starts in a whisper, climbs up over 3 or 4 versus, and then slips away from you in a few final moments before you are even ready to let it end. Now take that formula, add his smooth vocals, and a shit ton of violins, violas, cellos, and basses...I watched a 40 year old man in front of me wipe tears from his eyes more times than I could count. It was unreal. To think that all of those things could come together and create a sound, one that would make a grown man cry.
I also ate shit when I skipped a step on the way into the ladies room. Which was pretty entertaining. I have a blast when I am with Chelsea. It's pretty incredible we randomly reconnected and now I have a partner to absorb live music with in the same intense way it affects me. The whole weekend was amazing, dancing and laughing and lounging. Having it all lead up to one of the greatest live performances I have ever seen. I do hope Ben Gibbard decides to release an album with the orchestra. Some of his older songs were given new life with such a full incredible sound. Especially tough hearing "Soul Meets Body" - seeing as though it was Andy and I's song. It was heartbreaking in the most profoundly beautiful way possible.
Anyways, it was incredible. I would have no problem being poor for the rest of my life, if I could on occasion find myself at shows - to experience music in that way. I hope my awe and wonder for music never depletes. And I hope I'll always be so moved as to say stupid shit like "those people are making beautiful noises!"
I went out on a limb and bought Death Cab for Cutie tickets for Chelsea's birthday shortly after we went to go see Jack's Mannequin together. This was before the last 3 months of sleepovers, shenanigans and becoming incredibly close. I thought, in the off chance that this girl and I actually got along, I would absolutely love to go see Death Cab. I have loved Ben Gibbard for years and have never had the opportunity. I was a little confused to see that they were playing at the Chicago Theater versus a venue that is more conducive to a standing audience around the stage. I discovered this was because this current tour was not just Death Cab, but Death Cab with the Magik Orchestra. Interesting. Death Cab is my go to sleepy time music (or with HSF it was sexy time music). To imagine that sound backed by string instruments sounded like a pretty genius idea.
After a delicious meal, a ton of ciders, and 3 hours of people gawking - we made our way to the show and took our seats that, to be honest, weren't the greatest. In that theater, though, you can see pretty much everything from anywhere. We were just incredibly high up, which made my buzzed, in-tall-heels self a little concerned. The second the lights were dimmed, and I heard the first bow slide across a violin I thought my heart was going to explode. If you have never had the luxury of seeing an orchestra live - stop reading this blog immediately and go find one. I work in a music store for goodness sake, and I am still blown away with string instruments. It's carved wood - with tightly wound metal strings across the top - that are rubbed against by horse hair. How is it even possible that that would make one of the most incredibly tragic, heartbreaking, stunning, beautiful sounds known to man?
If you are a Death Cab fan you know that Ben Gibbard has an incredible way of making a song rise and fall over 5 minutes that you don't always find in popular music. It's more than an a, b, a, b, c, b format. It sometimes starts in a whisper, climbs up over 3 or 4 versus, and then slips away from you in a few final moments before you are even ready to let it end. Now take that formula, add his smooth vocals, and a shit ton of violins, violas, cellos, and basses...I watched a 40 year old man in front of me wipe tears from his eyes more times than I could count. It was unreal. To think that all of those things could come together and create a sound, one that would make a grown man cry.
I also ate shit when I skipped a step on the way into the ladies room. Which was pretty entertaining. I have a blast when I am with Chelsea. It's pretty incredible we randomly reconnected and now I have a partner to absorb live music with in the same intense way it affects me. The whole weekend was amazing, dancing and laughing and lounging. Having it all lead up to one of the greatest live performances I have ever seen. I do hope Ben Gibbard decides to release an album with the orchestra. Some of his older songs were given new life with such a full incredible sound. Especially tough hearing "Soul Meets Body" - seeing as though it was Andy and I's song. It was heartbreaking in the most profoundly beautiful way possible.
Anyways, it was incredible. I would have no problem being poor for the rest of my life, if I could on occasion find myself at shows - to experience music in that way. I hope my awe and wonder for music never depletes. And I hope I'll always be so moved as to say stupid shit like "those people are making beautiful noises!"
4.09.2012
My Life Is Better Than Yours
My life is so much better than yours. It just is, and I'm sorry about
that. As I am getting older and reflecting on the things I have done,
and get to do on a regular basis, the only conclusion I am left with is
that my life is better than yours. I think the thing that separates my
life from the average just okay ones, is that I have a weird way of
always getting what I want. When I was 15 years old I fell in love with
a band called Jupiter Sunrise. A few months later I was on their tour
bus listening to my favorite tracks played acoustically for me and my
friend - who were the only two fans invited along for a drive around
town. In 8th grade, I decided I wanted to be class president. I hadn't
been in student council ever before, I didn't have more than 3 friends
that would probably vote for me - but alas, I became student council
president.
I would like to blame it on dumb luck. That it is some how my ability to be in the right place at the right time (like being chosen for Bozo Buckets at the Bozo Show when I was 6). But I don't want to sell myself short either. I work hard to have accomplished the things I have. When I set my sights on something, I will find a way to get it or die trying. I fell for a teacher of mine when I was younger, and though in retrospect what transpired was fucked up, I made him fall for me back. I got what I wanted despite all logic and reason telling me I couldn't have it. I wanted to get with the keyboardist from this band once, so I joined their street team to win a contest to meet the band, and you guessed it - no more than a month later I had him (and the bassist for that matter).
I've danced in VIP cages at nightclubs, I have partied with rock stars and comedians alike. I have para-sailed over the Atlantic ocean. I got to live in a house with my 5 best friends and have parties so epic that there were flame throwers. I got to say thank you to one of my favorite song writers of all time. I've been to the Bahamas, walked the beaches of Key West and Cozumel. I hooked up with a guy who worked at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Orlando - and he took me up to a tricked out executive suite just to makeout. I had a cigarette with Jason Mraz. Sherri Lewis signed my Lampchop puppet. I once drank and ran around a wax museum in St. Louis at midnight because Stephanie and I met a guy who knew the owner. Of a wax museum of all things.
I guess the point of all this bragging is a reminder to myself that I have never been defined by a relationship. Not a single one of those previously mentioned moments were a result of dating any particular person. (In fact, a lot of them happened because I WASN'T dating anyone at the time). I spend all this time trying to diagnose why I have had the relationships I have, and why I seem to be attracted to the wrong men. Maybe I haven't figured out love. But I have figured out how to have a great fucking time. To make every moment count. To jump at opportunity. To pull myself off the couch when I am in my pajamas, and putting on a bra seems like the most daunting task in the world. I live an pretty extraordinary life sometimes.
Just last Thursday I got to ride out to Crown Point Indiana with 2 very hilarious comedians to see a great show - drink red wine with friends - and smoke in a bar! This whole upcoming weekend is top to bottom shenanigans with my best friends - and a Death Cab for Cutie concert and meeting Chad Michael Murray (if I have anything to say about it). I just need to make it a point to focus on the experiences I get to have as an unattached 25 year old woman. I mean, my whole family seems to be getting married off these days (more power to you, bros). But I know for a fact there is a whole lot left of my life I want to live before I am tied down to one person for all eternity. I want to makeout with strangers, and dress slutty and dance with sweaty dudes that call me baby and try to grab me inappropriately. That's what life is about, am I right?
I will be a wife someday. And a mother. And I will keep a clean house, and host wine tasting parties for my married friends. In the meantime, I am going to attempt to wear red lipstick and dance around like a fool to 90s music. And be incredibly proud that I am Katie Mother Fucking Keller, who can party with the best of them. Cheers.
I would like to blame it on dumb luck. That it is some how my ability to be in the right place at the right time (like being chosen for Bozo Buckets at the Bozo Show when I was 6). But I don't want to sell myself short either. I work hard to have accomplished the things I have. When I set my sights on something, I will find a way to get it or die trying. I fell for a teacher of mine when I was younger, and though in retrospect what transpired was fucked up, I made him fall for me back. I got what I wanted despite all logic and reason telling me I couldn't have it. I wanted to get with the keyboardist from this band once, so I joined their street team to win a contest to meet the band, and you guessed it - no more than a month later I had him (and the bassist for that matter).
I've danced in VIP cages at nightclubs, I have partied with rock stars and comedians alike. I have para-sailed over the Atlantic ocean. I got to live in a house with my 5 best friends and have parties so epic that there were flame throwers. I got to say thank you to one of my favorite song writers of all time. I've been to the Bahamas, walked the beaches of Key West and Cozumel. I hooked up with a guy who worked at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Orlando - and he took me up to a tricked out executive suite just to makeout. I had a cigarette with Jason Mraz. Sherri Lewis signed my Lampchop puppet. I once drank and ran around a wax museum in St. Louis at midnight because Stephanie and I met a guy who knew the owner. Of a wax museum of all things.
I guess the point of all this bragging is a reminder to myself that I have never been defined by a relationship. Not a single one of those previously mentioned moments were a result of dating any particular person. (In fact, a lot of them happened because I WASN'T dating anyone at the time). I spend all this time trying to diagnose why I have had the relationships I have, and why I seem to be attracted to the wrong men. Maybe I haven't figured out love. But I have figured out how to have a great fucking time. To make every moment count. To jump at opportunity. To pull myself off the couch when I am in my pajamas, and putting on a bra seems like the most daunting task in the world. I live an pretty extraordinary life sometimes.
Just last Thursday I got to ride out to Crown Point Indiana with 2 very hilarious comedians to see a great show - drink red wine with friends - and smoke in a bar! This whole upcoming weekend is top to bottom shenanigans with my best friends - and a Death Cab for Cutie concert and meeting Chad Michael Murray (if I have anything to say about it). I just need to make it a point to focus on the experiences I get to have as an unattached 25 year old woman. I mean, my whole family seems to be getting married off these days (more power to you, bros). But I know for a fact there is a whole lot left of my life I want to live before I am tied down to one person for all eternity. I want to makeout with strangers, and dress slutty and dance with sweaty dudes that call me baby and try to grab me inappropriately. That's what life is about, am I right?
I will be a wife someday. And a mother. And I will keep a clean house, and host wine tasting parties for my married friends. In the meantime, I am going to attempt to wear red lipstick and dance around like a fool to 90s music. And be incredibly proud that I am Katie Mother Fucking Keller, who can party with the best of them. Cheers.
4.04.2012
What's Your Favorite Tetris Piece?
Before I get into the topic of today's blog I want to take a
moment to say thank you to everyone that has been supporting this blog for the
past year. I've had an increasing amount of traffic the past few months
especially, and it's because I have some wonderful friends that read my words
and care enough to pass them on to their friends. I have also received
some very kind emails from readers who some how relate to my twisted world, and
care enough to take the time to tell me. Writing will always be my true
passion; over marketing, over comedians and musicians, over casual sex and
drinking. Writing, at the end of the day, is the thing I wish to be
defined by when I leave this world. So thank you all for validating on a
weekly basis that these words matter. I digress.
I am starting to believe that all the bad men I have let into my life have successfully ruined me for the good ones. I often joke that I am broken, but there is more truth to that statement than I generally care to admit to. Over the past few months I have exchanged a few emails with a very nice guy who found me on the dating site I frequent. I should mention I rarely take men from this dating site seriously, and have no problem admitting that I use it more for a self esteem booster on my darker more self-loathing days. This guy spiked my interest when he countered my icebreaker question (If you were in a Zombie apocalypse and could defend yourself with only one item from a Home Depot - what would you use and why?) with his icebreaker question: What is your favorite Tetris piece? What a great question! My answer, for the record, is the "L" for it's ability to occupy a good amount of space when flipped horizontally, and is handy in a clutch when you need just one block to finish a line.
The problem here is that he is sweet, kind, available, and interested in me. The 4 qualities that usually turn me off most in men. Though I shouldn't blame my inability to follow through with these exchanges solely based on my self-esteem issues, or history of terrible relationships with terrible men. I have been coming out of a relationship that lasted longer than it should have, and in dealing with that breakup have gone through my normal motions of attempting to distract myself through false affection from men that don't care about me. Hey, at least I can call myself out on my poor decision making.
This guy has been persistent, to say the least. I have received a few texts and phone calls each week for the past month. And have chosen to respond to none of them. He's awfully charming, always coming up with some clever way to say hi, or that he really wants to meet me. And I adore receiving these messages, I do. But I don't want this guy. I don't want him because I can have him. He isn't going to make me question his feelings for me, and he isn't going to drag me along in a half-assed relationship for 8 months, or breakup with me on Easter. He's probably a really nice, respectable male. And I would love to say that is exactly what I am looking for, but I am hardwired to turn away from the right guys and find the next douche bag (who probably already has a girlfriend) and fawn over him instead.
Broken.
But here is the reality of this situation: even being aware of my inability to choose the right man, it doesn't make me magically attracted to the nice ones. I would love to force myself out on a date with this suitor because he'd probably hold doors, pull out my chair, and hold my hand on the walk back to the car. He would take me somewhere nice, make a reservation, and let me order the expensive wine. I am sure all of these superficial things I have realized I want in relationship would be fulfilled. But if he doesn't make my heart race, and my face flush, and my stomach turn in knots - it's not the relationship I want.
I finally manned up and expressed to him that he should probably not waste any more time trying to seduce me. At least not for the time being, because I don't want him to feel ignored. And who knows - maybe I will want to take him up on his offer sometime in the future when I am a bit more put together. No use in burning bridges that are hardly even built. In the interim I will just continue to bitch and moan about the guys I know will never treat me well, and hopefully one day my heart will catch up with my head and I'll be able to fall for the good ones as easily and as hard as I do the bad.
I'm not a complete lost cause. When the relationship I previously mention ended this past time, it was because I drew a line in the sand and demanded what I know I deserve. I know what I want - now I just have to retrain my brain to sort out the ones that will never give that to me.
I am starting to believe that all the bad men I have let into my life have successfully ruined me for the good ones. I often joke that I am broken, but there is more truth to that statement than I generally care to admit to. Over the past few months I have exchanged a few emails with a very nice guy who found me on the dating site I frequent. I should mention I rarely take men from this dating site seriously, and have no problem admitting that I use it more for a self esteem booster on my darker more self-loathing days. This guy spiked my interest when he countered my icebreaker question (If you were in a Zombie apocalypse and could defend yourself with only one item from a Home Depot - what would you use and why?) with his icebreaker question: What is your favorite Tetris piece? What a great question! My answer, for the record, is the "L" for it's ability to occupy a good amount of space when flipped horizontally, and is handy in a clutch when you need just one block to finish a line.
The problem here is that he is sweet, kind, available, and interested in me. The 4 qualities that usually turn me off most in men. Though I shouldn't blame my inability to follow through with these exchanges solely based on my self-esteem issues, or history of terrible relationships with terrible men. I have been coming out of a relationship that lasted longer than it should have, and in dealing with that breakup have gone through my normal motions of attempting to distract myself through false affection from men that don't care about me. Hey, at least I can call myself out on my poor decision making.
This guy has been persistent, to say the least. I have received a few texts and phone calls each week for the past month. And have chosen to respond to none of them. He's awfully charming, always coming up with some clever way to say hi, or that he really wants to meet me. And I adore receiving these messages, I do. But I don't want this guy. I don't want him because I can have him. He isn't going to make me question his feelings for me, and he isn't going to drag me along in a half-assed relationship for 8 months, or breakup with me on Easter. He's probably a really nice, respectable male. And I would love to say that is exactly what I am looking for, but I am hardwired to turn away from the right guys and find the next douche bag (who probably already has a girlfriend) and fawn over him instead.
Broken.
But here is the reality of this situation: even being aware of my inability to choose the right man, it doesn't make me magically attracted to the nice ones. I would love to force myself out on a date with this suitor because he'd probably hold doors, pull out my chair, and hold my hand on the walk back to the car. He would take me somewhere nice, make a reservation, and let me order the expensive wine. I am sure all of these superficial things I have realized I want in relationship would be fulfilled. But if he doesn't make my heart race, and my face flush, and my stomach turn in knots - it's not the relationship I want.
I finally manned up and expressed to him that he should probably not waste any more time trying to seduce me. At least not for the time being, because I don't want him to feel ignored. And who knows - maybe I will want to take him up on his offer sometime in the future when I am a bit more put together. No use in burning bridges that are hardly even built. In the interim I will just continue to bitch and moan about the guys I know will never treat me well, and hopefully one day my heart will catch up with my head and I'll be able to fall for the good ones as easily and as hard as I do the bad.
I'm not a complete lost cause. When the relationship I previously mention ended this past time, it was because I drew a line in the sand and demanded what I know I deserve. I know what I want - now I just have to retrain my brain to sort out the ones that will never give that to me.
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