Females are awful, just plain awful. And I am not discounting myself in this generalization. Because I've done it, I've been there. I have come on to men with no regard for their relationships. In fact I used to have this motto (still kind of do) that I'm not in his relationship, it isn't my responsibility to stay faithful for him. I have seduced and used men for my own immediate gratification, and then turned around to leave them with the pieces of the broken relationship with the girl that truly cares about them.
So why the change of heart now? Maybe I have learned my lessons from those previous experiences and matured as a result of having my heart broken time and time again. Maybe I have invested too much time and energy into the "other woman" scenarios of my life, and have learned that a cheater is never going to leave his girlfriend for me. Why would he, I am putting out anyways. But now that I am in a relationship with someone that I really truly care about it is bringing to light how terrifying the idea that some skanky version of my 19 year old self is going to put my boyfriend in that same situation I have put men in so many times before.
I guess it all comes down to the trust you have in your own relationship. And I don't want to be one of those girls that blames the other woman, because deep down I know if faithlessness happens it's not about who it was with, but who did the cheating. I firmly believe that humans, by nature, are programmed to want what they can't have. I have seen it happen every time I've gone a long time being single, and having no one show interest in me. And then the second I attach myself to another being, men come out of the wood work and want to take me out and romance me. It's always the most frustrating circumstance, but I am pretty good about making it clear I am in a relationship and uninterested. (I have to make an effort to do this, because my instinct is always to welcome attention).
I find that guys aren't as good about establishing these boundaries with the girls that appear once they find themselves in a relationship. And we females need to be told some things very clearly and directly. And the fact that you are in a relationship, have no interest in dating me, and want me to be respectful to your status is one of those things. Maybe even then girls will be girls and continue to have no respect for themselves, or other females and pursue the taken anyways. But at least I would feel like the man is standing up for our relationship. And maybe that would ease some of my insecurities.
I am lucky to have a great line of communication with said boyfriend. And issues like this dissolve pretty quickly because we address most everything head on, and leave little to be swept under the rug. But this isn't a one time fix for me, unfortunately. The jealousy issue that I have is going to have to fall into the relationship maintenance category indefinitely. And I want to keep my feelings at bay and manageable as much as he wants me too. But I'm a girl. I'm awful. Chances are it will get the best of me again, and chances are I'll just write about it here.
3.17.2011
2.26.2011
Beautiful Things : A Picture Collection Vol. 1
I spend a lot of time clicking around the internet. More time than I would like to admit. But over the past few years I have been collecting images and gifs that make me happy, for one reason or another. I've decided it was about time I did something with them. And if for nothing more than clearing some space on my hard drive. Here is a collection on things that mean something to me. Feel free to collect your favorites, and send others you love to me. The internet's greatest feature is the ability to share things that stimulate us with one another. So, be stimulated and I promise I will have my own words and pictures up for you soon. These may be just the inspiration I need.
Filming the original MGM lion.
2.16.2011
Kissing and Telling, and Then Forgetting.
I've been debating for the past week whether or not I should write this blog. My hesitation comes from the fact that I may come off as a Skanky Mcskankerton. But as I sat down to write a blog tonight, with little to no inspiration, this popped back into my head and I've decided to stop fighting it, and just get it out of me.
I have always enjoyed being intimate with men. Not necessarily sex, every time in every situation. But I love the physical affection and the validation you feel when you get to makeout with someone who makes your knees weak. I recently saw a commercial on tv that claims the average person has 18 first kisses in their lifetime. This made me panic. Because I think I had 18 first kisses within a year of my first ever kiss when I was 14. So I started thinking back to all of the men, and some women, that I have kissed. And here's the thing, I can't remember.
I don't know why my memory is so bad, or if it just specifically blocks out certain things, but when it comes to my romantic history all I can seem to remember are the feelings and not the people. For instance, I remember that I dated this guy named Jason for a short while. For the life of me, I can't remember his last name. But I can remember the first time he kissed me, after dinner, on a Lake Shore Drive outside of his apartment building. Then there's Staffort. I remember his name, because come on, it's Staffort. But I have no idea what he looked like. All I can picture in my head when I think of him is Bruce Willis. And that can't be right. What I do remember is his hand on the small of my back when I jumped up to the microphone and started signing "Mr. Jones" with him at the bar.
Maybe I am so in love with the feeling of romance and affection that it is the only thing I hold onto after these encounters. It makes me feel bad for the other involved party, but at least it's about how you made me feel vs. who you were, where you were from, or how much money you spent on me.
I've done a lot of dating in the past 2 years since Andy and I broke up. I told myself I was looking for another relationship, but as it would turn out, I wasn't. I was just looking to surpass the standard for first kisses with flying colors. I believe I have succeeded.
I only kiss one boy now, and that's okay with me too. Because now I get the feelings, and I have a chance to really get to know him. And it's harder to forget someone who never really leaves your mind.
Yours Truly,
Skanky McSkankerton
I have always enjoyed being intimate with men. Not necessarily sex, every time in every situation. But I love the physical affection and the validation you feel when you get to makeout with someone who makes your knees weak. I recently saw a commercial on tv that claims the average person has 18 first kisses in their lifetime. This made me panic. Because I think I had 18 first kisses within a year of my first ever kiss when I was 14. So I started thinking back to all of the men, and some women, that I have kissed. And here's the thing, I can't remember.
I don't know why my memory is so bad, or if it just specifically blocks out certain things, but when it comes to my romantic history all I can seem to remember are the feelings and not the people. For instance, I remember that I dated this guy named Jason for a short while. For the life of me, I can't remember his last name. But I can remember the first time he kissed me, after dinner, on a Lake Shore Drive outside of his apartment building. Then there's Staffort. I remember his name, because come on, it's Staffort. But I have no idea what he looked like. All I can picture in my head when I think of him is Bruce Willis. And that can't be right. What I do remember is his hand on the small of my back when I jumped up to the microphone and started signing "Mr. Jones" with him at the bar.
Maybe I am so in love with the feeling of romance and affection that it is the only thing I hold onto after these encounters. It makes me feel bad for the other involved party, but at least it's about how you made me feel vs. who you were, where you were from, or how much money you spent on me.
I've done a lot of dating in the past 2 years since Andy and I broke up. I told myself I was looking for another relationship, but as it would turn out, I wasn't. I was just looking to surpass the standard for first kisses with flying colors. I believe I have succeeded.
I only kiss one boy now, and that's okay with me too. Because now I get the feelings, and I have a chance to really get to know him. And it's harder to forget someone who never really leaves your mind.
Yours Truly,
Skanky McSkankerton
2.05.2011
How Much Distance Is Long Distance?
Don't mind me as I get a little 'Carrie Bradshaw' in this post, but this is something that has been on the forefront of my mind the last couple of days. And since I have been lazy about blogging, I felt it was the appropriate time and topic for a new post.
As some of you may or may not know, I have recently embarked on a new relationship. This is the first exclusive relationship I have been in in years. The last real notable relationship being Dan the Man. And this relationship is only notable to me, seeing as though he, to this day, will never ever admit we were actually dating. I digress...
So there is this new man in my life. (And sorry, baby. You knew it was only a matter of time before you ended up in a blog). He is wonderful in every sense that one could be wonderful. He is the funniest man I have ever dated. He is literally 'milk coming out of your nose' funny. He is sweet, kind, and gentle. He has never made me feel rushed, or impatient, or scared. He always says the perfectly wrong thing at the exactly wrong time, but it's constant and genuine. His intentions are good, and he is above all else, honest with me about everything. Our relationship, from the beginning, has been built on an unreal ability to communicate with each other. We had a rocky start to the relationship, and got through it because night after night for weeks we would sit on the phone and talk about every last thing we were feeling and scared of and excited about. I am so grateful that all of this waiting for another great man to come around has been for him. He is truly an amazing guy.
But if that is how this blog ended, all butterflies and rainbows, I wouldn't be writing it in the first place.
We have been dating, officially, for just over a month now. And we are both learning some things about the relationship that weren't very clear in the beginning. The largest of these things being the literal distance between the two of us. It may not seem like much, and I don't want to 'woe is me' like I have it as bad as great lovers separated by world wars, but he is a good hour and a half away from me. And with my transportation situation being what it is (I don't drive. At all. Anywhere. Period) it's been entirely up to him to get back and forth to my town, to pick me up to take me out to his shows, and to drive out late nights after a gig to spend a few short hours sleeping in my bed before I have to get up and go to work. While we are trying to figure out the easiest way to facilitate getting to one another any chance we can, I am left to wonder how much distance it takes to qualify as a "long distance relationship"?
(That was so Carrie of me, I am literally grinning with pride on this side of the computer.)
I've been all mopey and depressed about our situation, particularly this week, as I've been sick and tucked in to bed for 3 days. I truly felt the distance between us more than ever, as a snow storm, and every other element that could exist seemed to stand between myself and my man with a cup of chicken noodle soup in hand, all week long. It didn't help anything that I spent these hours curled up in comforters watching my favorite 90's sitcom 'Mad About You' and knowing Paul Buchman would get to Jamie in a snowstorm if she were sick. But then I floated back down to reality and realized that though my boyfriend is a comedian, and has very jew-y Paul Reiser esq hair, he isn't a fictional character from any television series or movie, despite what I may want to believe.
So after a very awkward conversation (on my end) last night, which consisted mainly of me sighing heavily and saying "I don't know" over and over again we have resigned to the fact that we are, indeed, in a long distance relationship. And we (mainly I) need to adjust our (my) expectations accordingly.
My brother Sean told me something once, which has turned out to be some of the best and worst advice I had ever gotten in my life. It was after a fight between an ex and I, who was at the time refusing to drive the 45 minutes from Joliet to Aurora to spend the night before my 20th birthday with me. This leading into one of our 200 breakups. I had called Sean crying hysterically, much like I had done over this same boy time and time again. And Sean told me that any guy who wasn't willing to walk 50 miles through a snow storm to get to me, no matter what the occasion was, wasn't worth my time.
This advice has helped me weed through quite a few bad seeds in the past. I have stopped wasting my time on men who aren't willing to waste their time on me. But then you have these situations like the one I am in now, where in a literal snow storm I am expecting more from someone who does genuinely care about me, they just can't always get to me when I want them there. Hence making this piece of advice no longer applicable. But it's hard to separate that thought that I am worth the impossible journey through a blizzard, because that is the standard I have held men to ever since.
It is what it is. This relationship is already seeming to be one of the healthier, happier ones I have had in my life. And it is typical Katie Keller to find something to bitch about just a month in. But we feel what we feel, regardless of whether or not it is validated by others. I am going to be sad every now and again that my boyfriend isn't just down the street. And that when I come home from a bad day at work, he will most likely be on the other side of the world making people laugh. I just need to be patient, and most importantly grateful that that funny man is going to get home and call me and be MY boyfriend, regardless of how much time passes between nights of falling asleep in each other's arms.
As some of you may or may not know, I have recently embarked on a new relationship. This is the first exclusive relationship I have been in in years. The last real notable relationship being Dan the Man. And this relationship is only notable to me, seeing as though he, to this day, will never ever admit we were actually dating. I digress...
So there is this new man in my life. (And sorry, baby. You knew it was only a matter of time before you ended up in a blog). He is wonderful in every sense that one could be wonderful. He is the funniest man I have ever dated. He is literally 'milk coming out of your nose' funny. He is sweet, kind, and gentle. He has never made me feel rushed, or impatient, or scared. He always says the perfectly wrong thing at the exactly wrong time, but it's constant and genuine. His intentions are good, and he is above all else, honest with me about everything. Our relationship, from the beginning, has been built on an unreal ability to communicate with each other. We had a rocky start to the relationship, and got through it because night after night for weeks we would sit on the phone and talk about every last thing we were feeling and scared of and excited about. I am so grateful that all of this waiting for another great man to come around has been for him. He is truly an amazing guy.
But if that is how this blog ended, all butterflies and rainbows, I wouldn't be writing it in the first place.
We have been dating, officially, for just over a month now. And we are both learning some things about the relationship that weren't very clear in the beginning. The largest of these things being the literal distance between the two of us. It may not seem like much, and I don't want to 'woe is me' like I have it as bad as great lovers separated by world wars, but he is a good hour and a half away from me. And with my transportation situation being what it is (I don't drive. At all. Anywhere. Period) it's been entirely up to him to get back and forth to my town, to pick me up to take me out to his shows, and to drive out late nights after a gig to spend a few short hours sleeping in my bed before I have to get up and go to work. While we are trying to figure out the easiest way to facilitate getting to one another any chance we can, I am left to wonder how much distance it takes to qualify as a "long distance relationship"?
(That was so Carrie of me, I am literally grinning with pride on this side of the computer.)
I've been all mopey and depressed about our situation, particularly this week, as I've been sick and tucked in to bed for 3 days. I truly felt the distance between us more than ever, as a snow storm, and every other element that could exist seemed to stand between myself and my man with a cup of chicken noodle soup in hand, all week long. It didn't help anything that I spent these hours curled up in comforters watching my favorite 90's sitcom 'Mad About You' and knowing Paul Buchman would get to Jamie in a snowstorm if she were sick. But then I floated back down to reality and realized that though my boyfriend is a comedian, and has very jew-y Paul Reiser esq hair, he isn't a fictional character from any television series or movie, despite what I may want to believe.
So after a very awkward conversation (on my end) last night, which consisted mainly of me sighing heavily and saying "I don't know" over and over again we have resigned to the fact that we are, indeed, in a long distance relationship. And we (mainly I) need to adjust our (my) expectations accordingly.
My brother Sean told me something once, which has turned out to be some of the best and worst advice I had ever gotten in my life. It was after a fight between an ex and I, who was at the time refusing to drive the 45 minutes from Joliet to Aurora to spend the night before my 20th birthday with me. This leading into one of our 200 breakups. I had called Sean crying hysterically, much like I had done over this same boy time and time again. And Sean told me that any guy who wasn't willing to walk 50 miles through a snow storm to get to me, no matter what the occasion was, wasn't worth my time.
This advice has helped me weed through quite a few bad seeds in the past. I have stopped wasting my time on men who aren't willing to waste their time on me. But then you have these situations like the one I am in now, where in a literal snow storm I am expecting more from someone who does genuinely care about me, they just can't always get to me when I want them there. Hence making this piece of advice no longer applicable. But it's hard to separate that thought that I am worth the impossible journey through a blizzard, because that is the standard I have held men to ever since.
It is what it is. This relationship is already seeming to be one of the healthier, happier ones I have had in my life. And it is typical Katie Keller to find something to bitch about just a month in. But we feel what we feel, regardless of whether or not it is validated by others. I am going to be sad every now and again that my boyfriend isn't just down the street. And that when I come home from a bad day at work, he will most likely be on the other side of the world making people laugh. I just need to be patient, and most importantly grateful that that funny man is going to get home and call me and be MY boyfriend, regardless of how much time passes between nights of falling asleep in each other's arms.
1.25.2011
10 Things About Las Vegas
Hello again! Sorry it's been so long since my last post. Probably more upsetting to me than any of you, seeing as though I was doing so well at keeping my New Year's Resolution of posting regularly. Irregardlessly (<-my favorite not real word of all time), I am here now, and have a fun list to catch you up to speed on things in my most recent life.
10 Things About Vegas
1. If you are close enough to your family to go on a vacation with them, do so in Vegas. Having my brothers with me was the perfect company for this vacation. They didn't judge me at 2am when my mascara was caked under my eyes, they kept a watchful eye across the dance floor while I danced with sweaty men, and most importantly they will protect you from psycho killers disguised as drinking buddies.
2. Speaking of dancing, Men: when a song calls for us to "get low" please don't "get low"-er than me. First of all, I don't think its sexy, I think its a little gay, if anything. And chances are I am wearing heels and trying hard enough to balance in the upright position. I will get as low as possible, and you should stay a few inches above where ever that may be. And be thankful that I'm only getting so low, the floors at these night clubs are disgusting.
3. A pennyslot machine jackpot is about 2000 credits. Using basic math you'll find that only equates to $20. But when you hit this anti-climactic jackpot the entire casino will light up like you just won a million. This is embarrassing and unnecessary at 9:30am. The only silver lining to this minimal win was blowing up the deathstar (again). That's right. The force is strong with this one, at least on Star Wars penny slots.
4. Teller talks. I'm sure I am not the only one that assumed Teller, of Penn and Teller fame, kept his mouth shut always. Turns out that's just during performances. We met the magical duo after their stage show at the Rio on Saturday night. Both men were very sweet, and stuck around for just about everyone who wanted an autograph or a picture taken. I got all girly when I met Penn, because I have always found him sexy in an odd large man kind of way. Maybe its just because he's really articulate politically, and that's always been a turn on for me. Teller, though, he's the real ladies man. And had no objection to me giving him a little kiss after the show.
5. I am going to be a Pussycat Doll when I grow up. I don't even need to be one of the really hot ones that are in the singing group, I just want to be one of the "hot enough to be in a cage" ones. Sean and Zach were legitimately playing blackjack at the Pussycat Dolls casino area, and I was legitimately checking out the dancers for a good 30 minutes.
6. If you are going to go to a nightclub in Vegas, find someone to go with that has enough money to get a VIP table and bottle service. You don't have to fight your way to and from the bar every time you need a drink, a big bouncer is personally watching your purse while you dance so it's not weighing down your sexy dancing arms, and you look really cool walking past a line of 300 people waiting to pay a $50 cover to get in.
7. The only way to make a hangover headache go away after the first initial night of partying is a yard stick of booze. I wouldn't recommended drinking one of these alone, it took Sean, Zach and myself a good amount of time to tear through it, but at the end I was headache free. As a side note, try to avert your eyes from the bartender when he is mixing said yardstick drink. He is going to use a disgusting about of liquor that should probably not be mixed together in the first place. Just wait till he blows his whistle, simulates oral sex with you, and drink up.
8. If you aren't too drunk to pay attention to the awful house music constantly blaring through the nightclubs, listen closing for the funny things the djs sample music with. For instance, Sean and I found a great jam that repeated the words "Barbara Streisand" over and over again. It wasn't a Barbara song, nor was it even her saying her own name, it was just so guy with a deep voice saying it to the beat of the music. So catchy, and super entertaining. Skeet skeet skeet.
9. Photobombers. Bomb or be bombed. We decided early in the trip to photobomb as many people as possible. If you are unfamiliar with this concept it is quite simply posing in the background of a picture being taken by a complete stranger. I believe we were successful in ruining many tourists pictures, and I hope someone finds us lurking in the background of a facebook picture in the near future. I will warn anyone that may find such a gem, the photobomb isn't meant to capture the most attractive face. The point is to not only be in their picture, but ruin it by making a God awful face.
10. I love my brothers. I've had a rough year past year not only finding my place in the world, but even in my own family sometimes. This trip was such a great reminder of how much love we all have. I have spent the past few years gloating about how similar us Keller kids all are. I learned quite the opposite on this trip. Zach, Sean and myself are such different people. We are all on very different paths, and find happiness in very different things. But at the end of this trip, when we all said goodbye, I felt a new found sense of closeness with them. No matter what makes us tick individually, no 2 other people could have made me laugh so hard and so genuinely for 3 days straight. I hope and pray this year was just the first of many many Keller Kid adventures in my life. And not too long before the littlest can join us.
To check out the awesome pictures from this vacation go here:
Keller Kids Do Vegas (Like a Boss)
And until next time...
10 Things About Vegas
1. If you are close enough to your family to go on a vacation with them, do so in Vegas. Having my brothers with me was the perfect company for this vacation. They didn't judge me at 2am when my mascara was caked under my eyes, they kept a watchful eye across the dance floor while I danced with sweaty men, and most importantly they will protect you from psycho killers disguised as drinking buddies.
2. Speaking of dancing, Men: when a song calls for us to "get low" please don't "get low"-er than me. First of all, I don't think its sexy, I think its a little gay, if anything. And chances are I am wearing heels and trying hard enough to balance in the upright position. I will get as low as possible, and you should stay a few inches above where ever that may be. And be thankful that I'm only getting so low, the floors at these night clubs are disgusting.
3. A pennyslot machine jackpot is about 2000 credits. Using basic math you'll find that only equates to $20. But when you hit this anti-climactic jackpot the entire casino will light up like you just won a million. This is embarrassing and unnecessary at 9:30am. The only silver lining to this minimal win was blowing up the deathstar (again). That's right. The force is strong with this one, at least on Star Wars penny slots.
4. Teller talks. I'm sure I am not the only one that assumed Teller, of Penn and Teller fame, kept his mouth shut always. Turns out that's just during performances. We met the magical duo after their stage show at the Rio on Saturday night. Both men were very sweet, and stuck around for just about everyone who wanted an autograph or a picture taken. I got all girly when I met Penn, because I have always found him sexy in an odd large man kind of way. Maybe its just because he's really articulate politically, and that's always been a turn on for me. Teller, though, he's the real ladies man. And had no objection to me giving him a little kiss after the show.
5. I am going to be a Pussycat Doll when I grow up. I don't even need to be one of the really hot ones that are in the singing group, I just want to be one of the "hot enough to be in a cage" ones. Sean and Zach were legitimately playing blackjack at the Pussycat Dolls casino area, and I was legitimately checking out the dancers for a good 30 minutes.
6. If you are going to go to a nightclub in Vegas, find someone to go with that has enough money to get a VIP table and bottle service. You don't have to fight your way to and from the bar every time you need a drink, a big bouncer is personally watching your purse while you dance so it's not weighing down your sexy dancing arms, and you look really cool walking past a line of 300 people waiting to pay a $50 cover to get in.
7. The only way to make a hangover headache go away after the first initial night of partying is a yard stick of booze. I wouldn't recommended drinking one of these alone, it took Sean, Zach and myself a good amount of time to tear through it, but at the end I was headache free. As a side note, try to avert your eyes from the bartender when he is mixing said yardstick drink. He is going to use a disgusting about of liquor that should probably not be mixed together in the first place. Just wait till he blows his whistle, simulates oral sex with you, and drink up.
8. If you aren't too drunk to pay attention to the awful house music constantly blaring through the nightclubs, listen closing for the funny things the djs sample music with. For instance, Sean and I found a great jam that repeated the words "Barbara Streisand" over and over again. It wasn't a Barbara song, nor was it even her saying her own name, it was just so guy with a deep voice saying it to the beat of the music. So catchy, and super entertaining. Skeet skeet skeet.
9. Photobombers. Bomb or be bombed. We decided early in the trip to photobomb as many people as possible. If you are unfamiliar with this concept it is quite simply posing in the background of a picture being taken by a complete stranger. I believe we were successful in ruining many tourists pictures, and I hope someone finds us lurking in the background of a facebook picture in the near future. I will warn anyone that may find such a gem, the photobomb isn't meant to capture the most attractive face. The point is to not only be in their picture, but ruin it by making a God awful face.
10. I love my brothers. I've had a rough year past year not only finding my place in the world, but even in my own family sometimes. This trip was such a great reminder of how much love we all have. I have spent the past few years gloating about how similar us Keller kids all are. I learned quite the opposite on this trip. Zach, Sean and myself are such different people. We are all on very different paths, and find happiness in very different things. But at the end of this trip, when we all said goodbye, I felt a new found sense of closeness with them. No matter what makes us tick individually, no 2 other people could have made me laugh so hard and so genuinely for 3 days straight. I hope and pray this year was just the first of many many Keller Kid adventures in my life. And not too long before the littlest can join us.
To check out the awesome pictures from this vacation go here:
Keller Kids Do Vegas (Like a Boss)
And until next time...
1.10.2011
Moses Supposes And A Moody Tuesday
Tomorrow is going to be an odd day. Outside of the fact that it is 1-1-11 (which I don’t find all that interesting anyways), it is the one year anniversary of my God Father passing away. I don’t know what shocks me more, the fact that there is still no resolve regarding the circumstances of how he passed, or the fact that it’s already been a whole year.
When I found out that he had died, I was on my way to Tapas with Courtney. My mother had called me to give me the news, before I saw it on TV or read it in the papers. I can’t explain my reaction to finding out – I hadn’t seen or talked to my God Father in years, since I was 8 or 9 years old. I immediately felt guilty that I wasn’t more upset. I wanted to be really heartbroken, but I didn’t know the guy. And he definitely didn’t know me. I got off the phone with my mom, and continued on with my evening of sangria and small Mexican appetizers.
A few days later I sat myself down at a computer and forced myself to read some of the articles about what had happened. I got angry before I got sad. I got defensive before I even took the time to get to know the man he had become. People had such horrible things to say about what was right and wrong, and whether or not he “deserved” what had happened to him. I wanted to preserve the few good memories that I had of him, but it was frustrating holding on to so little when so many people had so much to say.
The funeral was the first time I was meeting his son, and the first time in a long while I would be seeing his wife and brother (neither of which I actually remembered). I held myself together pretty well on the way there. I was way more distracted by how much I hate funeral homes (the smell has always bothered me, and praying at an open casket when you don’t normally pray or necessarily believe in God is very forced and uncomfortable). I felt myself start to crack when his wife first saw me and my parents walk in. She lit up when she saw my mom, and it was then it became real to me that this man had, at one time, a very close relationship with my family. He was my father’s best friend for a while, and apparently my mother coached his wife through her pregnancy.
I didn’t know these things. I knew he was my God Father, and I have one very cute picture of me sitting on his lap at my first birthday. But I had heard more about why he wasn’t in my life in the years I remember than I what I knew of the kind of person he was when my parents appointed him my “God Father”. He was a band director (which is quite fitting to where I’ve ended up in life), and he touched so many students with his passion for music. He was, before he had gotten sick, a dedicated father, husband and friend. But I just knew him as the guy who had gotten sick, and it was better to have him out of my life than in it.
I’m thankful that I went to the funeral. And it opened my parents, my dad especially, up about talking about the person he was when he came into their lives. Flash forward 6 months later, and I had a great conversation with my boss who knew my God Father very well. He had such warm things to say about the band director he was, and how motivated he was to get band programs in any school he could get himself into. Such a small world that I would end up working for a man who used to go jogging with Danny.
So it’s been a year. And I think about him all the time. I wish he could meet me now, see the person I have become. I think he would understand better than anyone else the demons one deals with everyday on the inside, while trying to keep face on the outside. He was a broken man that never had the chance to get his life back together. Maybe he never would have, maybe he was a lost soul and forever would be. I like to think that with more time, and enough love, he could have gotten back some semblance of a family and closeness before he went. At least be around long enough for me to know who he was first hand, not through stories that came way too late for me.
And if that wasn’t heavy enough, tomorrow also marks the 4 year anniversary of meeting my most important ex boyfriend. You know, the one who “got away”. Or I got away from. Either way you spin it, it was a very important relationship for me to have. And I can’t help but get nostalgic about how great it was in the beginning. 4 years ago tomorrow I got kissed in a way that I will never forget. He made my knees weak, and my heart race. I remember driving home from his house that night feeling like I was going to pass out and vomit all at the same time, because everything felt so intense. Much like that night, our whole relationship was intense. From start to finish, rinse and repeat for 2 and a half years.
It’s a new year. And Danny will continue to force me to ask myself a million questions I’ll never have answers to. So will Andy for that matter. But both men, respectively, have changed me for the better.
I’m proud to work in the field that I do. I know Danny is looking down on me and smiling that I am helping kids fall in love with music the same way he sought out for them to do many years ago. And I’m proud that I can look back at my relationship with Andy and smile about all the great memories we have together. January 11th will always be a strange day for me, so tomorrow instead of sulking I’ll be celebrating. Celebrating a man I wish I could’ve known, and my own personal Hank Moody. Cheers.
1.06.2011
Boys Like That Should Come With a Warning.
I have spent a lot of time lately reflecting on past relationships. I was discussing a more recent relationship with a friend the other day and they told me this particular person should "come with a warning". And though I have heard that line in lyrics and movies before, it never made more sense to me than it does now.
I wouldn't be the person I am if I hadn't gone through the relationships that I have, for better or for worse. But imagine the heartache that could have been spared if some basic personality traits were known before jumping in. Most recently there was a string of men with very specific red flags (at least for me personally) that I couldn't have possibly discovered until getting too close to get out scratch free.
Exhibit A.
This guy is so inciting from the outside. He's clever, and charming. His laugh fills the room, and there is a confidence oozing out of him. You want to know him before you even learn his name. Then you strike up a conversation with him, and he is engaged. He makes you feel like this particular conversation is the most colorful and passion provoking one of his life. You start to let your guard down quicker than ever, because he is so different than the jerks you have been with before. Then once you are close enough to want it, truly want it, he informs you that he isn't "looking for a relationship", that he's "not ready".
This guy is as ready as he is going to be, he just doesn't want to be with you. But it's too late, you're hooked, and you are only that much more convinced that you could be the thing that makes him "ready".
I have been so confused about relationships for so long that I didn't even think I was ready until I heard that he wasn't. And then it didn't matter if I was or not, I was just concerned with his lack of "readiness" for me. Only a few short months later, as I write this, he is in a relationship. Who knows if he is really into her, or if this is just another degree of his lust for validation, but I am happy that he didn't take it that far with me. At the time, it hurt like hell. Retrospectively, I'm glad I dodged that bullet.
Exhibit B.
You don't have to pursue this guy, he is going to pursue you. He is going to come on strong (too strong, but this goes unnoticed for a while). At the exact moment you are feeling a little down about life: you're too fat, you aren't smart, you're going to die alone, this guy is there to tell you how beautiful you are. That you are the smartest girl he's ever known. And even when he show's up at your house unannounced with roses, calls and texts you an uncomfortable amount of times, and says he misses you after your first date; you decide he's just very vocal about his emotions and not all that creepy.
Next thing you know, you are having a casual night out with friends and getting harassed about where you are, who you are with, and when you will be home. Dude. We went out twice. I don't even know if I like you, or the fact that you like me. This guy didn't cause as much heartache as he did headache. These leaches are hard to shake, and you walk away from the situation wishing you knew he was a nut job. I'd rather accept I am dying alone than have to find a boiling bunny in the kitchen.
This list goes on. There are so many bad guys out there. And I guess the same is to be said for woman. I sure as hell should come with a warning : This girl is too loud, too crass, too much. She is going to pull you in fast and push you away quick shortly there after.
I'm starting to realize that it's only after you start pin pointing the bad, that you can truly recognize the good. The men in my past have been colorful, to say the least. But after every bad, really bad, situation, I am starting to have a quicker response time to the red flags. I am becoming more aware of what it is I will never ever date again. And it is narrowing down, by default, the things that I AM looking for.
So we don't have warnings, and we have to start crossing things off the list one heartbreak at a time. But at the end of the day, I think once the list is down to one - it's going to be worth all the trouble.
I wouldn't be the person I am if I hadn't gone through the relationships that I have, for better or for worse. But imagine the heartache that could have been spared if some basic personality traits were known before jumping in. Most recently there was a string of men with very specific red flags (at least for me personally) that I couldn't have possibly discovered until getting too close to get out scratch free.
Exhibit A.
This guy is so inciting from the outside. He's clever, and charming. His laugh fills the room, and there is a confidence oozing out of him. You want to know him before you even learn his name. Then you strike up a conversation with him, and he is engaged. He makes you feel like this particular conversation is the most colorful and passion provoking one of his life. You start to let your guard down quicker than ever, because he is so different than the jerks you have been with before. Then once you are close enough to want it, truly want it, he informs you that he isn't "looking for a relationship", that he's "not ready".
This guy is as ready as he is going to be, he just doesn't want to be with you. But it's too late, you're hooked, and you are only that much more convinced that you could be the thing that makes him "ready".
I have been so confused about relationships for so long that I didn't even think I was ready until I heard that he wasn't. And then it didn't matter if I was or not, I was just concerned with his lack of "readiness" for me. Only a few short months later, as I write this, he is in a relationship. Who knows if he is really into her, or if this is just another degree of his lust for validation, but I am happy that he didn't take it that far with me. At the time, it hurt like hell. Retrospectively, I'm glad I dodged that bullet.
Exhibit B.
You don't have to pursue this guy, he is going to pursue you. He is going to come on strong (too strong, but this goes unnoticed for a while). At the exact moment you are feeling a little down about life: you're too fat, you aren't smart, you're going to die alone, this guy is there to tell you how beautiful you are. That you are the smartest girl he's ever known. And even when he show's up at your house unannounced with roses, calls and texts you an uncomfortable amount of times, and says he misses you after your first date; you decide he's just very vocal about his emotions and not all that creepy.
Next thing you know, you are having a casual night out with friends and getting harassed about where you are, who you are with, and when you will be home. Dude. We went out twice. I don't even know if I like you, or the fact that you like me. This guy didn't cause as much heartache as he did headache. These leaches are hard to shake, and you walk away from the situation wishing you knew he was a nut job. I'd rather accept I am dying alone than have to find a boiling bunny in the kitchen.
This list goes on. There are so many bad guys out there. And I guess the same is to be said for woman. I sure as hell should come with a warning : This girl is too loud, too crass, too much. She is going to pull you in fast and push you away quick shortly there after.
I'm starting to realize that it's only after you start pin pointing the bad, that you can truly recognize the good. The men in my past have been colorful, to say the least. But after every bad, really bad, situation, I am starting to have a quicker response time to the red flags. I am becoming more aware of what it is I will never ever date again. And it is narrowing down, by default, the things that I AM looking for.
So we don't have warnings, and we have to start crossing things off the list one heartbreak at a time. But at the end of the day, I think once the list is down to one - it's going to be worth all the trouble.
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