Ohhh no she didn't!

I've met someone new. His name is Trevor and he is my current obsession. We have been seeing each other a quick minute now... about three months. First of all-- before I get started on a funny story about the two of us-- I need to tell you a few things about Trevor:

1stly: He is not my normal "type". I tend to date the same "look" brown hair...dark eyes...tall..in shape...etc etc. He is kid of short. And carries a couple of extra pounds.

2ndly: That being said-- he is probably one of the nicest guys I had ever met. And he is definitely the nicest guy I have ever dated. And he makes me laugh. A LOT!

So, I live in Oklahoma(I'm sure you are al rolling your eyes...like "Yeah, we know--you dumbass) and about a month ago we got a HUGE amount of snow and ice. HUGGGGE snow storm... I think we recieved like 10 or more inches? It was insannne.

Well, a couple of days after the snow storm Trevor and I went out to one of our favorite bars... I ended up getting pretty sloshy drunk. So, he is driving us home and my drunk self decides to try and pick a fight with him. At that point we weren't officially together-- so to prove a (very drunken) point I wouldn't kiss him or show any affection because "We weren't together-- we're just FRIENDS!" haha.

We get home. I'm still trying to prove my point. So, I decide to make him sleep on the couch(because FRIENDS don't sleep in the same bed!). Which after trying to talk sense to me and realizing he wasn't going to be able to--he obliges to do. So, he is on the couch and I am in his bed. Alone. And now I'm getting angry because my plan to make him talk to me about "us" isn't working.

So I get up. At 3 am. Put on my shoes grab my keys and try to "leave". He and I knew I was in NO state to drive so as I storm out of the house-- it takes him about 30 seconds to process whats happening and throw a pair of shoes on... he rushes out the door to stop me.. Just in time to see me literally drive 3 feet forward and get stuck in a snow drift at the end of the drive way.

Now I'm embarrassed. And angry because I look dumb. He is grinning at me as I open my car door.. We both realize I'm not going anywhere tonight. He takes my hand and we walk back up to the house. The front door is locked. LOCKED. IN 10 DEGREE WEATHER. Now I'm reaaalllllly embarrassed. He starts sighing-- I can tell he is frustrated--we walk around the house and luckily the window to his bedroom is unlocked! HALLELUJAH! He rips the screen off and lifts the latch...gives me a boost..and I'm in! Whew.

I walk through the house and unlock the front door.. he comes in the house.. and just looks at me for a minute. He kisses me and says, "Let's go to bed." He never makes fun of me for driving into the snow drift-- or for locking us out-- So we walk to the bed and we do just that.

That's when I knew being labeled as "together" or not being labeled as "together" it just didn't matter anymore... because the truth is-- He is the nicest guy I have ever dated-- and In the most frustrating situation ever, he never got angry at me. (I would have been INFURIATED at me if I were him and would have dropped my ass faster than anything!)

So, that's the story. Keep your dukes up, Kiddos.

My Life has become a Bootleg Copy of Sex & the City...CONTD PT 2

DAY 4------------

What a douche.                         

He’s a Fool. “Fool”, I love that word. (Said my little brother)

He’s never been into you.

Be glad this happened now and not later.

Thank God that’s over.

There will be many happy men in the world now.                     

You would think these responses to the end of my relationship would instill some sort of ease with the situation, buffer the pain perhaps, but it doesn’t. See, I don’t think he’s a douche; I cannot polish the halo over my head. And despite what others said, I did think he was the one for me; you can’t judge a relationship from the outside. My heart doesn’t want him to be a lesson; I want him to be my degree.         

I’m not sure if my state of mind makes me a hopeless romantic or completely delusional. Here’s the thing about break ups: they suck no matter how you try to sugarcoat them. I try to console myself  ‘till I am blue in the face with the knowledge that it is a positive change (..and it is), but my spirit remains in withdrawal.This is way past pathetic and quickly spiraling beyond my control.    

   

DAY 5----------

“Dad! Where’s my hockey stick?” My brother’s voice boomed out of Armando’s mouth. It took only a moment to realize I was dreaming. Armandos’ face started to fade and morph into the monkey painted on my brothers’ ceiling. I instantly tried to fall back asleep to that moment, to having Tony in front of me. Perhaps breaking his nose or cracking his skull on the pavement would appease the fire burning in my belly, even if it is just a dream.         

This hurts so much. I want to keep sleeping.                                                                          

No luck. I just lay there staring at the dust particles caught from the sunrays bleeding into the bedroom.  I began trying to envision him and I in pink bubbles. I had read that if you meditate on positive visions in pink bubbles, they imprint the image on a metaphysical level to the Universe. I believe it has something to do with the color pink associated with the heart chakra, but anyway, I digress…….                                      

After dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled down my father’s steps, pass the foyer, through the kitchen to the coffee machine, annoyed at the sunshine illuminating everything so beautifully. Pouring my morning fuel I looked up and noticed my father outside the French double doors, by the pool…shaving his head. 

 I started bawling like a little bitch.                                                                                         

I recalled how anxious I was when Armando asked me to buzz his hair for the first time and how accomplished I felt covered with all his tiny little hairs. I missed running my fingers thought his hair. Oh the dumb shit a broken heart stresses.                                     

Steph, my gorgeous Kim Kardashian look-alike best friend walked in. “You’re crying again?” She was half sympathetic, half annoyed. “Didn’t you like, break up with him first?”                         

“It’s not about that, Steph.” I wiped the boogie from my nose and kept sipping my coffee, I wish I could rewind back to 15 start from scratch because right now anywhere seemed better than here.                

“You weren’t this sad about Eddie, “ Steph reminded me. Eddie was my longest companion, but Armando had somehow managed to carve a bigger hole in my heart. Steph walked over to me and hugged me, an overwhelming sense of gratitude flushed my soul. I realized certain things don’t change and I could take comfort in that. She would always be my bestfriend. And although it pained me to have her see me like this, I knew on some level it was bringing us closer. With that, my gratitude for the situation began to build.

Day 5, 5 days left. I know how to count, I’m writing this in the early afternoon, so today counts. Every single miniscule second counts when your heart is mending.    

DAY 6 through 9 ----------

A consistent way of conflicting emotions and really dumb thoughts engulfed my life for the next week and a half.

 Thank God it’s over. I can breathe. Why doesn’t he love me?   He’s a child. I’m so miserable. I can’t believe I let him do that to me…I can’t believe he let me do that to him. Cry, cry, cry, snot, snot, snot…..   

I made it a point to carry my sunglasses everywhere, despite the constant rain. I was an open sore and the tiniest of dust particles triggered a tsunami of tears from the pain. I knew I should be writing more, being productive and not bitching to everyone about my temporary heartbreak, but this writing business is no joke when you’re dealing with a broken heart.                                     

Let me sit here, alone, with my thoughts. That’s a brilliant idea!  Why not just cut me and pour lemon juice on it.    

Somewhere between day 5 and 6 I had enough of my wallowing. There was no way I would go down like this.  It had become bigger than him, it had become about me.                                     

I redecorated my home; this proved successful. The cozy apartment where I lay my hat has never looked better and my fabulous roommate Ricky agrees. I bought a kick ass piece of art I’m particularly proud of.

I applied for travel, continued riding my Rock Star wave, planned a trip to India, resurrected friendships, created new ones, got rid of over half of my possessions and feel “lighter” than I have in years...

I also began contemplating what I expected to have happen at the end of these 10 days. Was there a goal? Did I expect the Gods to deliver an upgraded version of Armando to my door? What was the point to all of this? Was I going to want him back?

These last few days had brought such peace to my heart and inspiration to my soul, why would I want to stop that? Things were looking up and I was creating a world for myself I adored. I had truly forgotten how blessed and fortunate I am. But I can’t lie; through it all my heart was still a mere scab and I couldn’t help myself from picking at it.    

Day 10------------- 

I called Armando yesterday thinking I was ready to talk to him. He was distant, dismissive, and indifferent. He said something I won’t repeat out of respect for his privacy, but I can gamble it may have been that exact phrase that did it. There was no kindness in his voice and the wall I had worked so hard at tearing down had been rebuilt with better, more weather resilient materials.

I saw the version of Armando that hurt me. Not a mean man, just a kept man. Armando is the sort of spirit who only sheds light in moments of his approval. This hurts because his light brightens my life, but alas……

I surrendered; this was a war I could no longer fight. And despite it all I knew he was hurting too. He had the balls I didn’t have; the balls to admit when something is not working despite really wanting it to.

My last fit of tears ended with the television inexplicably turning on to a music channel, The Beatles, “Hey, Jude” was playing. It’s my favorite song.

Hey K, don’t make it bad….

I cried and cried and the sobbing eventually evolved into laughter. This was the beginning of something huge. The tides of change have arrived.                                    

Take a sad song and make it better….

My entire life I have hopped lily pads and moved like a rebellious gypsy who leaves the pack, but keeps true to her wandering roots.  Life has never kept me in one place for too long and I was now grateful for that.             

Remember to let her under your skin,

Like a lotus flower I float without roots. Something in my brain rewired itself. This contemplative longing was sooooooo not cute. Besides completely interfering with my creative visualization, it’s totally counterproductive for my soul searching. I was feeling more like myself than I had in months. Oh sweet day, when you accept that nothing is failure.  And so today I stuck a fork in this bitch. So done.

Then you’ll begin to make it…..

I truly loved someone in all their imperfect glory. Despite what I saw and disregarding what I heard, I followed my heart. It was love, at least on my part, and from it I learned I needed to love me more than I did, more than I ever have. Today I am ready to fall in love - with myself.                 

Better, better, better, better, better, better, oh!

I quote my spiritual counselor Enlightment (yes, it's spelled correctly -it's her name), “You have to stop being a brat & bullshitting yourself. Stop making excuses and rebelling against growing up. You are a woman; free & independent. That is what your God wants for you.” These 10 days of “Love Rehab” immediately converted to a timeless journey of soul, spirit, and mind regeneration because after all, that was always the point.

Na, na, na, na na na na, na na  na na, hey K………

My life has become a Bootleg Copy of Sex & the City... PART 1

My life has become a boot leg version of Sex & the City. Long hair, sex column, dysfunctional relationship - only my locks are milk chocolate, not butterscotch, my column is basically non-existent, I live in Poe Dunk Oklahoma and my Mr. Big is more like Mr. Shorty Rock.“         

“Armando** is not like Mr. Big,” Trae interrupted my self-indulgent comparison. “He doesn’t wear designer clothes, probably doesn’t even know what that means, he doesn’t wine and dine you, and really, do I have to keep going.” Trae, my close friend and handsome gay confidant, rolled his eyes and continued drilling my shelf into place. Trae was so over this roller coaster relationship of mine. “Where’s the hammer?” 

 Our conversation about Armando was over. I was devastated with a sprinkling of pathetic. I had renewed my subscription for love a month after my voluntary cancellation. The publication sent me a new, better offer and against my sane judgment I resumed my membership, only to lose my money when the company went bankrupt a month later. Okay, enough of the witty talk, here’s what happened: I left boy. Boy came back. I took boy back. Boy left me. Cold, too. He was on some, “this was fun, but it’s just over” trip. 

Nothing happened. No one technically cheated, no lack of love, it was just simply, over. My tormenting thoughts were in desperate need of regulation; I could only put so much of my mental energy into the state of our affair. What I needed was a fresh perspective. Change my perspective and I automatically change its’ purpose. I had to use my random waterfall of tears, snots, and emotions as a tool for growth.    

“It’s like an addiction, Trae. I’m feigning”, I tried to regain his interest in the topic.                    

“Are we still talking about this?” Trae turned to me abruptly; he was not amused. I had to stop before he clobbered my head with the hammer.                       

“I’m going to start a de-tox. I’ll take care of myself for 10 days and I’ll keep a diary about my experience. Like personal therapy."                    

“Do whatever you need to do, to shut the f%$k up about it.”  And with that my rehab from the little f$%^&r commenced.

DAY 1-----

"So, basically you're telling me he dumped you without dumping you after a year when he left for Med School?!" Joleen is another friend of mine who is "over" my relationship with Armando.

'Well, he was really busy..." There I go defending him again.

"K, You’re not even licking my a$%hole and I would have at least had a break up talk before jumping into something on the INTERNET. How freaking douchey is he?!" She passed me a shot of Crowne; I declined, but quickly reached for it after a moment and show it down. (Oh, yeah--Joleen is really blunt.)

Basically, to save you time and energy... I'm going to sum it up for you. I dated this guy off and on for a year. I absolutely supported him and was 100% there for this kid while he was getting into Med School. Physically, emotionally... you name it I did it. But, it always felt like he kept me at a distance. He never appreciated me the way he should have, so I ended up breaking it off with him for a month. No contact. At all. Eventually, he came back making promises and admitting that he had made a big mistake ever letting me go. So, of course I take him back. Only to be left by him a month later--when he moved to Tulsa to start Med School and A WEEK AND A HALF LATER (without having a break up talk with me) was in a relationship on FACEBOOK with some girl he met the first day of orientation. I had given him my time, emotions, body, and a piece of my heart for a year. AND I TOOK HIM BACK--which just made it worse. To put it simply...I was devastated.

Day 1 was easy. I replayed all the dumb things he had done to me in my head.  I stuck to my plan of action for the day and didn’t call him. I blocked his number from my cell phone, took him and some of his friends off my friend list on Facebook--Side Note: Yes, I know it sounds immature, but I only did it because I didn’t trust myself to not sit at my desk and pine over photos of him. It was for the greater good.-- I trashed all his photos from my desk, and put all his gifts in the garage-sale pile. Except for a purse; I pulled that out at the last minute for self-interested reasons. Everyone seemed shocked at the extent of my heartbreak, not at the break-up itself. But they weren’t there that last month. They don’t understand the trust I had put in him to keep the promises he had made me. At least that‘s what I thought. After a year and a half of struggle I fell in love in four weeks, only to have the rug snatched from under me.        

Maybe this was karma?  I decided to reach out to an ex-boyfriend or two and apologize for my indecent behavior in the past. I had left every single one of them in the same harsh fashion Armando had left me.

I can’t help but wonder how it is possible for one soul to affect me so profusely in such a short amount of time. How does energy get so compressed? In a fit of fantasy therapy I convince myself we have parted ways for the Universe to allow Derek Jeter into my life. Hey, whatever works...

DAY 2----------

Not so good. Sundays suck cock.

I wish I could stop my heart from physically hurting. It’s not just a metaphorical idea; there is a distinct pain in my chest.  I want to crawl out of my skin, but I have nowhere to go.  I am me, and here I am. Insecurities are beginning to surface.           

I called a lifeline in Hawaii, Jamie. Jamie is my clear-headed, logical, loving angel with spunk.  After 3 years of talking every day she also knows me better than most and has offered me the sanest advice.

 “Am I unlovable?” The despair in my voice masked the anger I was equally drenched in.               

“No way! You are the most loveable.” Jamie’s sincerity was evident. I tried to stay focused on how lucky I am to be surrounded by wonderful friends and family.                     

There’s hope.                    

“Jamie, everything reminds me of him.  I can’t where my favorite grey dress without a thinking of the last night we spent together. Even days of the week like, like Sundays,” …… and bathtubs, tanning, tomato plants, the Terminator, science, basketball games, hide & seek, bread pudding, horror films, every freaking song in the world, orange, water, Harry Potter, red, lil wayne, meditation, brunch, hot tubs, avocados, empty parking garages, Dave Matthews Band, my hair, water parks, sunsets, sneakers, sushi, casinos, Einstein, Disney, cotton candy, the arts festival, sangria, grey dresses, Star Wars, the lake,...guacamole, the night sky…..and then my heart dropped.     

God is laughing at me.

“You got to be f&&*n kidding me!"

“Huh?” My soul sister asked on the other line.                         

“I’m driving by his house!"

"You're stalking him, K?!"

“I’m not doing it on purpose. I have drive past it to get to the entrance of my neighborhood!” I hadn’t done it intentionally, but there it was, his house. The house we had done very naughty, but very fun things on, in that favorite grey dress of mine.

“K, think about all the reasons you broke up with him in the first place.” Jamie broke my masochistic daze. “Didn’t he call you a princess once like it was a bad thing?                       

“Yeah…..”                          

“You deserve someone who wants to treat you like a queen and I know you can find that”. I had to start trusting her, and the fates." 

“But I thought he was like, my half-assed knight who needed some training..” Awww crap, here come the tears. I looked over at my stunning friend, Steph, sitting in the passenger seat; I was embarrassed with my lack of self-control. She mouthed the words, “It’s okay. I love you.”         

DAY 3-----------

“I called him eight times.” Even as the words escaped my mouth I cringed.

“K, what are you doing” Drake yelled at me from across the country; I moved the phone from my ear.

“And I text him and emailed him. A couple of times.

“Stop it. Right. Now. Listen to me, your ego is in a ditch somewhere smoking and binge drinking.”

“I hate my ego,” I whined.          

“Then don’t let her win.”             

“But the bitch is stronger than me!” I stuffed my face into the pillow and quickly threw it across the room; Armando’s scent was still on it.  Drake is another sponsor of mine. I am not in AA or NA or OA (though I once was…oh glorious food…). I’m in SPBBLA (Stupid People Blinded by Love Anonymous). And lucky me, rather than one sponsor, I have like four who are always a phone call away.

You are surrounded by love, K. 

“I don’t want him to be happy with anyone. Ever.” I was beginning to annoy myself.        

“God, K. Get a grip. This is good for you. No, this is great. You should be dating other guys”, pause for reflection, “and girls. You always like them girls, K. Live it up.”  With that, I began laughing uncontrollably. And because of this laughter I was able to ascend into a moment of complete unaware bliss.  But those seconds are fleeting when you’re lovesick.    

"Promise me you will not call him."

“I promise.”  I hung up the phone satisfied. My world was beginning to get bigger again. The veil was beginning to slip off and I knew once it was completely lifted, it would be difficult to cover my eyes again.  I no longer wanted to be the victim in the situation. From the day he came back and told me he would never leave me again and I was silly enough to believe we had fallen in love. Maybe we had fallen in love, it’s just that we were both swept up by the waves before either of us had mastered swimming.

TO BE CONTINUEDDDD... :)

Dukes up.

**Of course, I changed his name to save face for his lame ass...