#500wordsaday: The Only Love I Chase, is the Love of the Cat

1) A time you lied
2) A time you were hurt
3) The last time you were happy for a week straight
4) Family
5) How you wish you started your day (and then why you aren’t doing that already)
6) Your most authentic moment
7) When you really loved yourself
8) When you were scared
9) Why you long for love
10) Something about you that you’re hoping people don’t notice   / Something about you that you’re hoping people do notice

500 Words a Day: Why you long for love.

Why do I long for love? 

Um. Doesn't everyone? Isn't love a basic human need? 

Am I doing that thing where I look at things in too simple of a light? Like, I probably need to just dig a bit deeper into the prompt...which has been the case every day for the past 8 days? 

You win, blog challenge; you win. 

I long for love from my family, because it's out of reach.

I long for love from my friends, because they feel more like my family.

I long for love from Juno the Cat, because she only gives love when she's in the mood - and I want her to be a snuggly love bug all the time, dammit! 

I long for love romantically, for a lot of reasons, on a lot of different levels.

I feel like the word longing, implies that I am chasing something I can't have - but I don't feel like that's the world I live in. I'm not chasing love from people in my family who don't have love in their hearts for me. And I am not chasing my friends down to love me - they just do. And while I'm not in a romantic relationship, I do also find love from boys - granted, not always the best choices, but still. 

I'll admit I chase the cat.

I had brunch mimosas with a friend from high school recently, who told me the story of a terrible date he'd been on with a girl who had said she wasn't registered to vote (I realize this may not ruin a date for everyone, but for those of us who are in our mid-thirties and single, I think we grow pickier by the minute). As I listened to him talk about how he'd gone total dad-lecture status on her for not being registered to vote against Trump in the upcoming election, it occurred to me that this is the crap people our age deal with in attempt to find the love we're apparently longing for.

Which then made his point make total sense; why bother continuing to date in hopes of finding someone, when all of these people tend to disappoint?

Which then made me feel completely cynical.

Which then led me to wonder...am I actually cynical?

Upon review, let the record show that despite temporary cynicism that comes in waves after every shitty date or every douche bag dude who has a secret girlfriend hidden somewhere...I am not a cynic. Quite the opposite, in fact. When no one is listening or paying attention, I am actually quite the romantic. 

Don't tell anybody; I don't want it to get around.

I'm definitely a girl who loves stories about people who went to junior high or high school together, who then met at random for booze 15 years later, and wound up together (I am actually talking about a girlfriend of mine, I'm not dating the aforementioned bachelor). I love that my best friend and her husband took 20 years to end up married to each other after keeping in touch from when they were neighbors as kids, after each marrying someone else first. I love hearing those gushy stories about people who went through horse shit and came out the other side with the love of their life. Those stories warm my otherwise chilly little heart. 

I can relate, however, to the bachelor noted above, and all of the reasons he's jaded enough to have basically sworn off love forever. I hate the phrase, as we get older, but I also can't think of a better one, so, bear with me here. As we get older, we deal with more and more bull shit. We deal with more and more experiences with people who jade us. People hurt us more often, and for far more ridiculous reasons. It's almost like, the more we get fucked over by people, the more we use that as an excuse to fuck over other people. Like how people who get cheated on, end up cheating on someone else later on. It doesn't really make much sense. When you really think about it, it seems like baggage, or the hurt other people have caused you...should teach you how to treat people better. 

Am I wrong?

I mean, the more boys who dump their epic bull shit on me - their drama, their fear of commitment, their ability to not engage with their emotions, their baggage - the more I should be shutting down. The more it seems I should be swearing off men forever, refusing to date, accepting my fate as a forever bachelorette. 

But I'm not like that. I have this uncanny ability to shake off the shitty treatment I get from the boys I date. Can't be open with me? That's your loss. Can't be faithful to me when I'm ready? Hash tag bye now. Don't want to talk about your feelings? Not my problem. I don't own someone else's baggage. I'm the girl who is patient and understanding and completely open - but not when you can't give me the same vulnerability in return. 

When someone comes at me over mimosas with, I'm never going to date again, my initial response is never to run, but rather to question. I ask, literally millions of questions. Some people aren't into my investigative nature, but those who are, always find a way to be a little more transparent with me than they may be with other people. And maybe that pays off for me in the future. Maybe I date that person because they finally let their guard down and realized that not all women are evil. Maybe that person just has someone else in their corner, or a bit of reassurance for the future.

I don't find myself pining away for the love of my life, upset that Prince Charming hasn't rolled up on my doorstep yet, so I feel like longing for love is completely the wrong phrase. I have immense love in my life, and am in no way, longing. 

Besides, I'm too busy chasing the cat around the house, trying to make her love me. I certainly don't have time for that when it involves humans.

Let's Be #JustFriends, Just Because

A few months ago, I wrote a blog about whether or not I believed men and women could be friends without sex complicating the relationship; It sprung from the movie When Harry Met Sally, and Billy Crystal's belief that men and women cannot be friends.

At that point, I wasn't sure whether I agreed or disagreed with Billy Crystal. Because at that time, I was falling in love with one of my friends. It was complicated and confusing, and it was also intense and gratifying. I'd never felt love like that. It was the kind of love that makes you realize you never loved anyone you'd previously believed you had. I was lucky in that my friend appeared to be falling in love with me too; I wasn't alone in the feeling that my heart could explode every time I saw him. I was head-over-heels, elated-and-over-the-moon, horny-all-the-time, in L-O-V-E for the first time.

And, of course, our friendship was effectively destroyed.

Not because anything bad happened, and not because there was a fight or a falling out, but just because, once you fall in love with someone, can you really consider them a friend? When they make your heart burst, when they light up every morning, can you really turn that off? No, not so much. So, despite our individual issues with vulnerability, and despite the prior relationship baggage we were both lugging around with us, I found myself in a relationship with my friend. A friend I'd spent the last several months falling in love with while simultaneously attempting to deny it.

As you know, it didn't work out. It doesn't really matter why; he and I know why, and our respective therapists know why. What matters is that, after experiencing my first real love, I then experienced my first real broken heart. And, fuck that. It fucking sucked. For the first time, I knew what it was like to not want to get out bed, to not want to eat, to not want to even turn on the lights, brush my teeth, or wash my hair. All I wanted to do was lay in bed with my cat, sleep all day, and cry until my eyes burned. For the first time, I had pain in my chest that radiated through the rest of my body. I'd never experienced anything like it, and I wouldn't have wished it on anyone else...except, I did hope he was feeling it too, honestly. I hoped I'd been as important to his heart as he'd been to mine, and I knew if I was, he was likely in his own bed with his own cat, not eating or sleeping or showering, or doing anything but existing there.

For the record, as it turned out, he was. Because I was important to his heart, and because breaking up fucking sucks.

After we broke up and a healthy amount of time had passed staying away from each other's Facebook pages and snap chats, one of us struck a casual conversation, and we made a mutual effort to repair the incredible friendship that our romantic relationship had dug a grave for. We decided to try. And honestly, it took a little bit of thought; was it worth the potential awkwardness or any potential hurt later on? We mutually agreed that any other feelings aside, this was a friendship worth salvaging. I missed him; I missed the way he listened intently when I spoke, and the way he was always thinking outside the box. I missed his quirkiness, the way he instilled confidence in me even when his own was lacking, and the way he made all of my bad days, good.

We've been spending a significant amount of time together in the past several weeks, and I am reminded of everything that drew me to him from the day we met. All the reasons I wanted to be friends with him in the first place, the things that truly attracted me to him as a person. It has been refreshing to spend time at his dining room table, drinking wine and having the same real, meaningful conversations we've always had, as if we hadn't skipped a beat. As if the complicated messy parts never got in the way of a genuine connection. I've been happily messaging him throughout our day, talking over beers about work and family and life, in a way that makes me feel like we didn't fuck it all up just a few months ago. It feels like I have one of my best friends back, and how does that not make me think, yes, absolutely, men and women can absolutely be friends?!

Because, jealousy. Because, attraction. Because, tension. Because, wine.

If your friend mentions someone else they're interested in, or someone else they may be dating, and you feel jealousy radiating through you...you're probably not just friends.

If you're physically attracted to your friend, in a way that distracts you, in a way that allows you to pull her closer to you on the couch, or in a way that makes your cheeks warm when he smiles at you...you're not just friends.

If you and your friend have sex, if you kiss goodnight, curl up under the covers together without pants on, stay the night in bed together, and wake up next to each other...you're not just friends.

The wine speaks for itself. Wine is just, wine...

I wrote my original blog six months ago, posing the question, is it possible for men and women to be friends without complicating everything with sexual tension and mutual attraction. And I honestly still don't know. I still wonder if he and I are truly just good friends, with some history of attraction that is stirred up by drinking wine, or if our friendship is an impossibility. Are we fighting an uphill battle in which one (or both) of us will end up hurting all over again, or are we capable of a true friendship that doesn't crush our boundaries? Can you be friends with someone you've shared your whole heart with in the past, or is your friendship from this point forward, somehow tarnished? I really don't know; surely time will tell in this instance. Time has a way of doing that.

And in the mean time, the best thing to do is to continue to enjoy having an incredible friend back in my life, in whatever way that happens for the two of us. Because what I've learned about good friends, is that it doesn't matter how a relationship looks to anyone else; it only matters that your friends fill your heart and you fill theirs. That you're there for each other with love and support, that you're available, reliable. That you bring a sense of calm to their otherwise overwhelming world. That they find the way to make you feel comfortable and safe. It only matters that you're both there, with honesty and communication, for each other. Whether you're best friends, close friends, good friends, great friends, or just friends...it all boils down to, how much does this person matter to your heart?

If you're in each other's hearts, the rest will work itself out.

Because, love. Because, support. Because, encouragement.

Because, you want it to.

Don't Let the Monkeys Run Your Life

I'm scared.

Of a lot of things.

When people ask me what I'm most afraid of, I always answer the same: monkeys and outhouses.

And on a surface level, that's very true. I am actually very afraid of monkeys, and I am very, very afraid of outhouses. I would argue that I have good reason for both of these insane fears. For one, I was attacked by a monkey at a California zoo as a baby. A small monkey bolted over to my stroller, where it proceeded to head butt me and steal my bottle right from my hands.

Yes, that really did happen.

Then when I was 19, I had an incident in an outhouse that involved a pitch dark night and a stranger's poop. At the end of the story, I rode home in my friend's truck, naked and wrapped in a blanket, after shedding all of my clothes on the side of the highway. Needless to say, I now only use outhouses in the broad daylight, I don't shut the door and therefore make someone stand guard outside, and if there is any (and I do mean any) other place to pee, I use it.

Yes, that also really did happen.

People who don't know me well, get that answer. I'm afraid of monkeys and outhouses. And they move forward, not knowing me, thinking that I have two ridiculous stories ending in entertaining fears, and I move forward, letting them think that that's it.

But then there are the people who take the time to know me for real, who know what I am really scared of. The people who have sat with me and a bottle of wine for hours, the people who have invested in me, the people who have been by my side when I've needed them; these are the people who know that my fears go beyond monkeys and outhouses. These are the people who know I am afraid of losing control and of letting someone all the way in.

Those are my real fears, the ones that really give me a run for my money.

I'm afraid of losing control. I talk to my therapist about this one twice a month, on average, more often when I am dealing with a lot of change at once. I have come far enough to recognize it, to feel what triggers it, and to be aware of it...and also to sometimes have a laugh at myself for it. As an example, I recently decided to get a roommate, and I rented half my apartment to a girl who was moving out of her parents' house for the first time. This was ideal for me, because I have furniture and appliances and dishes and decor...and she doesn't. So essentially, our apartment is furnished with my stuff, with the obvious exception of her bedroom. Recently, she acquired a chair. A chair that sits at the dining room table. So, as anyone else would, she put her new chair out in the dining room, and now we have three chairs at the table - two that I bought with the table, that match...and one random one that doesn't. And this chair has become my nemesis. When I am doing dishes, I stare at it. It bothers me. Not because it's ugly, but because it bothers me that someone else's stuff is in my dining room. Now, mind you this person pays rent, is a legal lease holder on our shared apartment, and has every right to buy a chair and put it wherever she wants. And I'm not mad about it by any means; it just bugs me when I think about it. Because really, I just don't want anyone else to have any control over my life, and somehow this damn chair seems to trigger a time in my life where someone else was controlling my entire existence.

And yes, I realize this makes me sound like a total psycho.

I am also afraid of letting someone into my soul far enough that they could hurt me. People do that, the whole hurting other people thing. Sometimes they even do it intentionally. I've had people hurt me on accident, and I've had people hurt me intentionally. And it's definitely the intentional hurting that stays with you; the fact that someone would maliciously seek out a way to cause you pain. But they're out there, those people. So I feel the need to be cautious.

Unfortunately, that need to protect myself, to protect my heart, often gets in my way. And it gets in my way in ways that I don't see coming at first, sometimes not until it's too late. Sometimes I don't even realize I have my emotional arm up, that I am still guarding some part of me, that's I'm keeping my distance. And it's always the worst when someone you care about has to be the one to point it out, like there's someone out there who is working hard enough to get all the way in, that they're the one who notices when you're making it impossible.

Regardless of how scary it is, there comes a point in your life that you have to let your past shit go. When you have to look your fears in the face and say fuck it. When you have to let your roommate buy a chair you don't like and stop looking at it with dismay on your way out the door in the morning. When you have to look at that person who is working their hardest to know you, and make the choice to let them in. Fear will always be there, trying to hold you back, trying to keep you down. Are you going to let it win? Are you going to let your fear win? Or are you going to make a conscious decision to do what you know feels good, despite any fear of failure or heartache or anything else?

It's okay to be afraid of ridiculous things, like monkeys or spiders or public bathrooms. It's even okay to be afraid of real things, like falling in love with someone you could love forever or moving into an apartment with that person, or even walking away from the things you know and trying something new. Fear is a normal thing, a healthy thing. But it's not okay to be controlled by your fear, and it's not okay to let your fears control your life.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I still have no intention of hanging out with any monkeys...

I'm just never gonna be ready for that.

I've Never Been the Most Important

Every time you start a new relationship, you go through a period of the first time something happens for you. Your first official date, the first time you kiss, the first time they say they love you, the first time you meet their friends or they meet your family. There is no shortage of firsts in a new relationship, and even though you may have had a first kiss with dozens of people, the first kiss with this someone is just as exciting. Because it's new, and it's something you've never experienced with anybody else.

I believe this is what is referred to, as "the honeymoon phase." That super-obnoxious-to-everyone-who-is-not-you stage where you are so gushy-eyed you can barely see straight, and where the most-perfect-for-you person on the planet can simply do no wrong? Yea, that...the honeymoon phase. That first little bit of time with someone new, where all of the newness is exciting and makes you forget you ever dated anyone else. Where the firsts feel like the absolute greatest thing that has ever, could ever, or will ever happen to you. #ohmygodhekissedme!!

I have had plenty of firsts with plenty of people. Some great, others not so great. I've had first kisses, first dates, first times having sex; there have been first times being yelled at, first times being hit, and first times being made to feel shitty about myself. there have been first fights, first make ups and breakups. And every first time is different. That's the thing about a new experience with a new partner, is that it is never identical to the same experience with someone from your past. I had a new first this weekend: for the first time, I went out on a date with my boyfriend, and he danced with me. Not because I begged and pleaded, not because I pouted, and not begrudgingly in the slightest. For the first time, I experienced what it was like to be on a date with someone who made me feel like the most important person in the room.

Side note: A man who dances is sexy as fuck. I don't know who ever told all you boys out there that girls prefer to dance alone while you get drunk bellied up to the bar, but they fully lied to you. There is nothing that guarantees you a night of hot sweaty loving than shaking it with her on a dance floor. Even if you look stupid. Even if you hate it. Even if you would rather die. Dance with her. (Also, dancing does not mean shoving your dick in her back. That grinding-her-gears move is not sexy.)

It's a gratifying feeling, that of feeling like the most important person in the room. It's a feeling that's not easily explained, but it's one that's wildly present in my relationship currently. It's the experience of being with someone who leans in to kiss you even when you're out with a group of friends, or who reaches for your hand when you're walking through a crowded room. These are such small gestures that it may seem insignificant, but when it's something you are experiencing for the first time, it doesn't feel small; it feels huge.

My efforts to explain this concept to my fella were met with shrugged shoulders and a well, you are the most important. Like, duh, why would I have ever felt otherwise? When you're the type of person who values your partner, who always sees them in that light, who is always aware of their presence near you in a crowd, these gestures apparently come as second nature, not to be given another thought. But when it's not the treatment you're used to receiving, it warrants all of the second glances, all of the pleasant surprises.

At the risk of sounding incredibly arrogant, I have always been the thoughtful one in my relationships. I'm the one who remembers important dates, who leaves love notes, who puts a lot of thought into gifts. I have always planned dates or birthdays or anniversaries. And more importantly, I've been the one who says the right things on a bad day or who finds the perfect way to cheer someone up. But as I was laying in bed last night, after the longest work week of my life, falling asleep at 7:30, I felt - for the first time - what it was like when someone else found the perfect way to take care of me back. By letting me fall asleep at a completely unreasonable hour, by rubbing my back while I fell asleep at a completely unreasonable hour, and by falling asleep next to me...at a much more reasonable hour.

Obviously not every first is as great as the first time you realize how important you are to someone else, but the fact is, every first has something to offer. Embrace them. Relish in them. Enjoy the way they make you feel. As they say, there's a first time for everything (remind me again who they are??)