Guest Blogger – 1foot: Okay. I’ll Be Honest.

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

In an attempt to get in touch with how I truly feel about things right now so that I can decide what to do later, I would like to try honesty and NOT over-editing this post.

I miss ___. I do. I didn’t think I would still miss him this far on. It’s been 1 year, 2 months, and 26 days since we officially broke up, and 5 months and 20days since I asked him not to contact me anymore and quit talking to him. I still think that was a good choice, all things considered, and I’m not regretting that or missing our romantic relationship.

What I miss is having a friend, with whom I was completely and utterly honest, who knew more about me than a lot of people, and lived 15 minutes away. I have some friends like that now, but life and distance (distance is a big one) get in the way a lot of times. I’m not really one to bring up my problems unless we’re in close proximity (with each other or with my problems), or if you force me to tell you or ask point blank. I don’t know, maybe I’d rather everyone just understood what was going on in my head and offered to help whenever I needed it, magically guessing when I needed something. It’s hard when I want to reach out to someone and then think, nooooo… they’re probably enjoying their night, or their morning, or are busy with things, or happily going through their day with nary a thought of me in their head. UGH. That sounds so self-pitying. I don’t pity myself. I just don’t think that my problems matter much to other people. WHAAAAT. That’s dumb. I definitely have people to whom I know my problems matter. I know that. I just have a very, very difficult time reaching out, for some reason. I had a period after the relationship ended where I was better about talking about how I felt, about reaching out when I was sad, or when I missed him. Then after a few months I decided I was annoying everyone around me because they’d get (or I’d imagine they’d get) that distant look in their eye when I brought up his name. Continue reading

Advertisements

Guest Blogger – 1foot: Single And Not Looking, or Save Your Pity, Relationshipped Friends!

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

I got asked out on a date a while ago. I accepted and we made plans. Then I thought about it some more and cancelled the date.

WHAT??!! But, 1foot, you’re… you know… *stage whisper* SINGLE…

Yep. I am! And I didn’t like the guy who asked and knew I wouldn’t be interested in him no matter how many dinners we had and… the list goes on.

I wanted to write about why I’m happy that I’m single, but it’s hard to write such things without sounding sort of dippy or defensive. But, so it’s out there in the most direct way possible – I’m happy I’m single right now, and I’m not saying that in a dippy or defensive way. I obviously still want someone to love me at some point in that relationshippy way; I’m not denying that that is a happy and fulfilling way to exist sometimes.

BUT Continue reading

It’s A Girls’ Club. You’re Not Invited. (it’s okay though, because you really are… invited…)

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

I never joined a sorority, in college. There were a lot of reasons, but mainly, I just didn’t feel like I would fit in with a whole bunch of girly girls, since I kind of spent my whole life with boys, being 1 girl in the midst of 3 brothers, playing soccer, rough housing, tackling people at random moments, and generally being kind of aggressive. I don’t have a very girly mom, either, so I relied on Seventeen magazine, Bobbie Brown, and the handful of close girlfriends I had picked up over the years to show me “the way.”

You know. The Way. The way to GIRLTOWN, BITCHES! For most of my life, I’d never been to GirlTown, and my friends had always lovingly tried to nudge me along the path. It’s not like I’m Rachel Leigh Cook in She’s All That or anything, in desperate need of a makeover and some contact lenses. I know when I look and feel pretty, and I know how to make myself feel confident in both my appearance and my personality. That’s not what I’m talking about when I say GirlTown. Looking and feeling good is part of it, but it’s all a byproduct of the most natural high you can get: hanging out in a group with a bunch of chicks. One of my friends told me that she read an article that stated, “A group of women socializing together can evoke the natural equivalent of a cocaine high.” This. Is. So. True. I don’t know if that article actually exists, but the fact of the matter is, when you’re surrounded by a big group of ladies that you love or are just beginning to love, it’s an experience quite unlike any other. It’s GirlTown. Amazing things happen in GirlTown. Like discussions about Sextrology. Drunken makeovers. Lustful J Crew encounters. Et cetera.

I landed there (approaching GirlTown Airport, please buckle your bedazzled and/or classy burlap-and-turquoise seatbelts!) recently, and it’s partly due to this amazing, fantastic, lovely little website called xojane.com. It’s basically a crap-ton of awesome ladies of all ages writing about lady things and just being awesome. The best part about it is, they promote non-judgmental attitudes, especially from one lady to another. Give them a look-see, because they’re pretty awesome over there.

See, as chickies, we kind of have this tendency to look at another ‘gal and immediately size her up. I think it’s probably hard-wired into our brains, as a means of sizing up the competition for the most promising mate. So there’s the cool evolution factor. But there’s also the fact that it alienates us from one another. And as bitchin’ as aliens are (way, way effing cool), wouldn’t it be nice sometimes to convene like in some sort of summit? A celebration of girls (and by the way, girls means ALL ages, 0-100million) and why we’re awesome and different and cool. WHO’S WITH ME. We’ll listen to anything we want, and do anything we want. There will be a crafting room, a dancing room, a reading room, a debating room, a room with a floor made out of a trampoline, a room full of slides, a tree house room, an obstacle course room, a makeup room, a giant closet room full of clothes, a writing room, a one-person only room, a sexy room, a sexy discussions room, a murder mystery dinner room, a cooking room, a music-listening room, a music-making room, a dinosaur room, a costume room, a poetry room, a story-telling room, a movie room, a horse room…

I could honestly list probably 97 thousand more rooms. What rooms do YOU want?!?

(PS – the word ‘room’ sounds/looks really strange. Anyone? Anyone?)

(PPSS – are dudes welcome? I don’t even know… I mean I LOVE dudes and their dude-iness. But… it’s GirlTown! Okay, maybe we’ll actually just have a dude appreciation room. And dudes that are into the same things we’re into can participate too. I guess.)

byebye,

1foot

Guest Blogger – 27swf: In Response to Granuaile: Let’s be friends?

(This post is part of an awesome series of awesome 25swf guest bloggers- read about them here!)

Let’s just be friends.

Most relationships end this way. But what do you do when that’s how it starts?

Lately, I’ve become very close friends with a guy named Doggy Style. We do everything together.  We eat (I’m his excuse for breaking his draconian diet).  We smoke hookah (we have joint custody of a beautiful Egyptian number). We sit by the beach, waiting for the tsunami to hit the coast (it never did — but that didn’t stop us from sitting there all day, drinking margaritas). We share our dreams for the future — many of which involve things we will do together. We talk about moving back to New York. We talk about renting a cabin in the woods. Oh, and didn’t you know? We’re writing the next great American screenplay — it’s a minimum five year commitment (he says).

We stay up talking all night, sometimes sleeping in the same bed, his leg just a little too close to mine (you know, ’cause our full size beds are just a tad too small for both of us). And just when I’m on the edge of sleep, I feel him holding me, wrapping his body around mine, as though he wants me to think I’m dreaming it, that it’s not actually happening. Maybe, it isn’t…

He proclaims that love is a death sentence; that he doesn’t want to be hurt by it again. That if we don’t have sex, we can be friends. He says friendship is forever, while relationships are doomed and destructive.

Little does he realize that we’re already in one.

So what do you do when you have a semi-platonic boyfriend? Do you break up with him? Do you stay in it, knowing it will probably never go anywhere? Do you tell him the truth, only to have him retreat out of obligation and dedication to a mantra he’s prescribed? Do you pull away, hoping he’ll fall in love?

Yesterday, he texted me three times and I responded briefly; a curt, short one liner. When he called me, I silenced his ring.

I don’t know what to do so I’m doing nothing.

A part of me says stay in it — he’s a comfort, he’s kind, he’s fun, I’m enjoying myself with him and therefore, why should I stop? The guy brings me candy, moves my car at 7AM so it won’t get towed, holds the door and sings my praises. I feel too young for marriage and so this relationship is perfect because it demands no real, emotional commitment.

The other part of me says RUN. Run away from a man who doesn’t know what he wants, a man who takes you for granted, a man who is selfish because he only gives what he wants to give. He will break your heart. You don’t need him. Or maybe you do?

Mostly I’m just angry at the bitch before me who broke his heart. I’m depressed by the fact that for the first time, in a long time, I’m in a relationship where we don’t play games, where our connection is sober and fun and real. I found a great boyfriend who can’t and won’t be my boyfriend. And that just sucks.

Maybe Granuaile and Doggy Style are onto something — that love is fleeting, that we convince ourselves that it is something more than it is. Maybe we should be seeking something deeper…or shallower, as the case may be. What do you all think?

Yours,

27swf

When shit hit the fan, bed, and couch

Sorry for the graphic title, but there’s a lot of shit-happening in this post and actually (after writing this) I realized a lot of beds and couches were involved, too. So, you will soon see how it very descriptively plays out.

(**warning** this post is long and somewhat rambly. I tried and edit where I felt like I was mouth vomiting, but it still feels janky to me. So I apologize in advance for any post-related injuries. It took me about 2 days to write because of how involved and emotional it is. Enter at your own risk.)

During one of the most hellish points of my life my three very close friends left the state. Best Friend One, we can call her L, got a grown-up job in Arkansas. BF Two, A, was off to Israel to be with her fiance. And BF Three, K, was on her way to Nicaragua to do non-profit work. I was so happy for all of them. Supportive, positive, excited! Within a matter of days and weeks of ALL of them leaving, the shit hit a big ‘ole ass fan in my life. And I was so in shock about what was happening in my own life to really be sad about the three closest people in my life growing up.

Here are the series of events so you can understand the chaos that my life was in less than a year ago.
(If you so desire to catch up on the history of MF you can read: A Year of Fears, Excuse my language but he’s a mindfuck, or Curiosity killed the…)


1– I met MF on November 6, 2009. I fell madly, deeply in love in less than two weeks. He invited me to Missouri and Eureka Springs with his family for Thanksgiving–they all wanted to meet me. While walking around the hillside he pulled my hand, “I need to tell you something,” and ran to a little spot away from the crowds, he pulled me into him, kissed me sweetly and told me he loved me. I swear to god I died. Writing this now is even making me cry. I fell. SO HARD. His family was amazing. His grandma and I would talk forever about traveling and little trinkets we found in the gift shops. After this trip, his family included me in their Christmas celebration, buying me tons of presents and overwhelming me with love. Over the next couple of weeks he would make these playlists, sending me songs that he said reminded him of me and us. Later I would find out that most of these songs were experiences he had with ex-fiance. As in, he told me to stop listening to a song that I fell in love with (because he sent it to me), because that was the song they were going to walk to down the aisle. A piece of me died inside. That was my first trip to New York (December 31).


2– We talked about marriage and kids, and moving in together over the next few months. Moving to Seattle. Starting companies. Working on movies. Moving to England. Moving to New York. Ginger babies. The whole shabang. We were (seemingly) completely on the same page in life.


3– In April 2010 my lease went up and I sold most of my possessions to move in with Mr. MF. I wanted to get new things eventually anyways, but the move prompted urgency. I had huge reservations, but I thought if I did this than maybe MF would realize that I wasn’t fucking around. I wanted this relationship to work. I knew he was still hung up on his ex. But I wanted him to know that I was working to gain his trust. BIG MISTAKE.


4– I moved in


5– Summary is: I was treated like shit and told I was always unhappy when I brought things up that bothered me. There are lots of fights sprinkled in here where I broke up with him and then he would convince me that we could work on it. He was the BEST at cleaning things up, temporarily. When I brought up an idea about creating weekly lists of things we could do for each other that would make us happy he made a joke out of it and laughed. But the lists…were a joke. I asked him to kiss me goodnight, not make misogynist jokes, and bake me brownies if I had a really bad day. His list was clean up boxes, get the cat (my cat*) out of the bathroom, and not always offer my opinion/advice on things when he talked about stuff bothering him. I always did all things on the list. If he did one, I was told to consider myself lucky. He also tried to get me to give away my cat. But I did take her to my mom’s for a while, which felt like I was giving her up. I really felt like I had no choice.

Soon after moving in we made a trip to Ikea to get some furniture (all of which he kept, even though I paid for half). On the way back from Ikea we got into an awful fight. I was driving and he was screaming at me so loudly that I had to pull off the road. I was crying and so speechless I had to get out of the car and breath. This wasn’t the same incident, but once I was pissing him off (his words) and he said to me, “Sometimes you make me want to just knock your glasses off your face.” I was appalled and didn’t even know how to reply. I don’t even remember what I said. Let’s just say, when he got mad, he scared me. So, that’s just SOME of the bull shit that happened. But all of it was huge to me. Red flags…on fire.


6– I found the sex file of him and his ex-fiancee on his desktop (July 25). I was broken. He asked me why I had watched it and was mad that I didn’t call him right away when I saw what it was. He said he was thinking about how he still had it and wanted to delete it. So that’s why he pulled it onto his desktop from the hard drive, to delete it. He was clueless as why it was still there. He tried to make it better by telling me he knew how I felt. He said he found pictures of his ex and her ex-boyfriend and was broken by it. He said what made him feel better was asking questions. So I asked…”Did you fuck her the way you fuck me?” I was so vulgar. I was so hurt. I was crying and screaming at the same time. I didn’t want him to touch me. I kept seeing the image of him turning on the camera, night vision was on, walking over to the bed. She was in some lingerie. He pulled her to the side and pulled her thong off. My eyes kept watching. My heart stopped beating. He took the camera down. Coming close to her and zooming in on everything. This looked familiar.

One night when we were making love he pulled out his phone. I asked what he was doing and he said, “Trust me.” I trusted him. He recorded us…me…I asked him, you haven’t done this before have you? No. He said. I loved that video. It turned me on. It made me feel so happy inside. It wasn’t dirty or gross. It was really hot to me that he wanted that. But watching this. Watching his video, of him and his ex, changed everything. I was disgusted with myself. I felt dirty and used. I was a fool. When I brought that up, how he had lied to me, he said he didn’t really lie…he had never done that with his phone. I made him delete the video of us. Who knows if it’s anywhere else.

I slept on the floor. Looking at that bed made me want to die. It was the same bed, the same apartment, the same video camera I had used on our trips together. I slept on the couch every night after that. I dreaded walking in there. Walking past the bed to go to the bathroom I would look away, down, just not there. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I told MF if he helped me I thought we could work through it and I would eventually heal. I really believed that. When I met her, the ex, for coffee I debated whether I would tell her any of this. I didn’t. There really was no reason. He said he deleted it, so that should never happen again. And I felt awful that I had seen something so private, so not meant for other eyes. My eyes. But when I told her that relationship was traumatizing, I don’t know if she will really ever know what I meant.


7– 6 days after the sex file-find I went to Alaska with him (August 2). I wanted to cancel the entire trip but then I decided that I should be an “adult” and try to work through everything.


8– 4 weeks after Alaska I still didn’t want to sleep in The Bed so I slept on the couch every night. One night, he yelled at me that I would have to get over it and we weren’t getting a new bed.


9– I sold my car on September 2. MF told me to take a train to get home (I worked 30 minutes away from the apt.). He said he was joking and said he didn’t know what time he could come pick me up because he had some things to do. You know the saying about the camel and the straw. This was the straw, funny enough. A stupid ride. Not a sex video, or a threat to hit me. I broke up with MF on September 2.


10– That night I slept on the couch at my friend’s place.


11– I had no car, no cat (I would get her back later!), no clean clothes, no home.


12– I bought a car on September 3. This was the 2nd worse experience of my life. They lied to me and gave me a replacement car until mine arrived. That night I moved all of my stuff out of MF’s apt. It took 5 hours and 3 trips. He wasn’t around because he was performing his music at a club.


13– I stayed at my friend’s place for 2 weeks, looking for a place to live that wasn’t a shit hole, took cats, and had *wood floors. (Wood floors are the best, and I wanted them).


14– September 8 my friend messaged me and said she was looking for someone to take over her lease and if I knew anyone to let her know. I told her I wanted it. It was perfect. Ironing board built into the wall, phone nook, vanity built in…I was in love. On top of this she had a mattress that she had just gotten (never been used), but didn’t need it. “Do you need a mattress?” she laughed. But I did. I had sold mine when I moved in with MF. I didn’t even have a damn bed.


15– On September 18, 2010 I moved into my new apartment. It was my safe haven. ALL MINE.


Breathe.

Sounds pretty fucking awful, huh? Well, it was. I mean, no one died…but gimme a break. What the hell.

Reading this “series of events” really simplifies all of my feelings about that relationship and slams together events that really have more to them. This is my side of the story. His would probably be very, very different. Not only because of obvious reasons, but I’d venture to say because he also has a delusional sense of himself. Also, I’m still pissed about everything. But I’m working on that, forgiveness is vital.

My three friends that I mentioned at the beginning of this post (L, A, and F) probably don’t even know these details. I was telling them some of this stuff when we would catch up, but really…I don’t even think they really know. My friend L, never liked him and told me to get out multiple times. My other friend, A, was supportive of what I wanted to do and always would listen to my rants with loving ears. And K, she had reservations about MF but she was there from the beginning. The first time I was chatting with MF she saw me falling. I was giddy, I was absorbed, I was in love. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with this person. In the beginning, my heart was telling me to go. A few months into the relationship my heart was telling me to run. Away. Fast. That if I stayed in this relationship, I would slowly lose myself. I would be miserable. I was miserable.

I had to learn how to ask for help from friend’s that I was close to, but not as close to. It taught me a very important lesson about myself, asking for help is not a sign of weakness.

And now, that things are “normal” and the world isn’t moving at 500mph I’m thinking a lot about them.

I think it’s really strange how we all were at very big crossroads in our lives all at the very same time. We all were in a whirlwind.

I miss them. I did when they left, too. But now I’m missing them because I know our lives are forever different now. Being 25 is the time in our lives where people start moving away, building their own lives, and…(I guess that’s what it’s called) grow up.

Despite all the shit hitting the fan last year, I am so excited to see where we are going and what paths we create for ourselves. I love all of my friends and I feel so lucky to be surrounded with such beautiful, talented, and genuine people. You are rare, friends. Everyone should make sure they tell their friends I love you. It’s cliche, but you don’t know how long they will be around, even if they are just moving a state or country over.

Yours openly and gratefully,

25swf