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

One Year Ago Today

Facebook started it.

The one year ago today business.

I’m an extremely reflective person (stating the obvious) and I probably think too much (Facebook doesn’t help), but sometimes when I think about one year ago today I am just utterly amazed.

One year ago on September 2 I broke up with The Unmentionable One (stated with a low, raspy, silly voice), bought a car, moved out of said person’s apartment, and felt like the loneliest person in the world.

Now, well…let’s see…

Now I’m in disbelief that it was one year ago that all this happened. It feels like three years.

I met someone (Mr. M) in March who made me realize that the world was a beautiful place, and dreams can come true…Disney style. Being so far on each of these spectrum’s in the same year is both refreshing and terrifying. One of the reasons I don’t like to write about happiness is I’m afraid I will lose it. If I acknowledge it, how long before it recognizes that I recognize it and it flees? Completely convoluted, I know. But these are my thoughts.

And speaking of thoughts. Last week I started thinking that if Mr. M didn’t ask me to be his girlfriend by the end of the month I was going to ask him to be my boyfriend. We have been acting like boyfriend/girlfriend for a while now, but we both agreed we wanted to take things slow. But lately I was feeling anxious and I had been asked out a couple of times (which is awkward). So, my plan was to buy some flowers and make a card that read…

boyfriend

But I didn’t have to.

This Friday, September 2 morning Mr. M and I woke up like a normal day. Normal except for the fact that when he was hugging me before we left for our days he asked me to be his girlfriend.

And I said yes.

Yours on a cloud they call nine,

25swf

I don’t want to break your heart

What does it mean when someone says, “I don’t want to break your heart”?

Ugh. This is what’s bothering me. I’m not sure how I should take this. I’m not sure what I will do with it. But I know I do need to clarify, but having patience is a virtue right now. My naturally inclined impatient self wants to call Mr. M right now and tell him that our conversation tonight really confused me and made me feel weird.

I brought it all up; I wanted to talk about the fact that although we are not in a relationship I just want to solely date him, or be with him. Monogamy is what I sought to clarify–just to put it out there that I’m not looking for anyone else and not talking to anyone else. His response to this was basically that he felt the same way, but because he is possibly moving (who knows where or when) he can’t be fully committed to me. He also said he doesn’t want to lead me on. It probably didn’t help that I brought this up in a phone conversation, but I’ve been so sick lately and tonight I didn’t want to go out but it was weighing on my mind. I guess I didn’t realize that he wanted to have a conversation about our future, which really was about our lack of one.

And the funny thing is, I can’t be fully committed to him either. I still need time to ease into this. Process things. But why do I feel like I’ve just been broken up with? Why do I feel like I was just rejected? I didn’t know if I would be in a relationship with him in the future or not, but that’s where it felt like this was going…and really the hope was all I needed to feel secure. I want to go back to the Land of La-La.

Now it feels hopeless. I am not the girl that you just have fun with. I am not the girl who you can fuck and leave. I am not the girl who just goes along with it. I am just not. So what does that make me in this?

If there is no hope for anything, why try?

Tomorrow I plan on bringing it up again and telling him the things he said felt really weird to me, and not like the Mr. M that I’ve seen over the past couple of months…the Mr. M that treats me like a “girlfriend”…but (apparently) wants to have nothing to do with one.

And honestly, I can’t be dicked around. If he’s pulling away from me, and not that into me anymore…I have to know. It would suck, but I have to know.

And here are some tips for your next relationship, or possibly your current one. Just a thought, but maybe these are some things you may not want to say to someone if you truly care about them:

“I don’t know how to gently say that I like you and I enjoy our time together but I can’t fully be committed to you.”

“I don’t want to lead you on.”

“I don’t want to break your heart.”

And this goes without saying, but this is just my side of the story. That’s why I’m sitting around writing about it, thinking about it. I want to tell him all of this tomorrow, and see if I totally missed the boat on everything he was saying. Also, as another side note and a bit more context to this post, the past couple of weeks have been wild. I have been super sick. I ran a marathon in the rain, hail and 40 degree weather, and I’m overall just feeling burnt out. And as my friend brought up, my natural endorphin release has been majorly curbed since I have stopped running. I think all of this is contributing to my sense of confusion about the Mr. M situation. Time to sit around and think has never really been very productive for me.

Yours asking a lot whys tonight,

25swf

Signs

The number 3

While Signs is, admittedly, one of my favorite alien movies (I don’t care how you feel about M. Night Shyamalan, that’s a freaking great movie)…these are not the kind of signs I’m talking about.

I am talking about the kind of signs that we look for, find, create, and sometimes base our whole lives around.

When I first started dating MF I had all of the signs. Signs like our birthdays being the inverse of each other, with the number 3 sprinkled in there a couple of times. Our middle names, Michael and Michelle, the girl/boy versions of one another. Our cats both being black. We both just got out of 3 and 1/2 year relationships. And the hotel room we stayed in Branson was number 313. Not to mention he lived on a street with lots of 3’s in it. Our last names were even similar. I know this sounds completely insane, but I truly believed it meant something. And by something, I thought it meant that we were meant. And more than the number 3 and other nonsensical commonalities, we had a lot in common personality-wise. I just had to add that in my defense so you don’t think I’m a total loony, just a little bit of one. ūüėČ

As the relationship progressed (and became increasingly more destructive), those signs became something to hold onto.

And then my (unconscious) silly signs quest turned into a search for sanity signs. I began to look for signs that I wasn’t losing my mind. That this love was for real. That this love was it. I held onto the number 3. The black cats. The 3 1/2 yr failed relationships. The middle names. The last names.

But with the passing months, the number three faded and was replaced with neglect, hateful words, and MF telling me I was never happy. And I should just be happy.

There’s a fine line between being in denial and staying positive. I was most definitely in denial. Funny how you can never tell that when you are IN it, because that would just be too helpful.

He was right, though. I was never happy. Up until a point I could keep my positivity and the sweet number 3 in the forefront of my mind, but when you’re treated like shit over and over and you tell him, “Hey, I can’t keep going on like this,” and his response is, “The things I did for her (the ex-fiancee) are the things you want, and I can’t give them to you.” It really is the last thing you want to do…just be happy.

I was in denial that he wanted to be with me. That he loved me. He didn’t love me. And he just wanted someone to be with. Someone to have experiences with. Someone to fill the shoes of the other one, and the one before her. I’m just not the kind of person that can keep my mouth shut, so he made a mistake there. He needs someone who just takes it. But I fought back. I talked back.

My mom has always told me to date someone who is more in love with me than I am with them. My guest blogger, Whipperwill, delved into this idea in her post, “Devotion Came on the Edge of a Nervous¬†Breakdown.” When I first read Whipperwill’s story, I teared up. This be-with-someone-who-loves-you-more idea wasn’t just something my mom concocted in her 60 year life of failed relationships? Other people thought it was the key, too.

Is that true? Is that the secret? I really don’t like that answer. I find it to be disturbing. But it’s the only one I have right now.

Both guys I truly, madly, deeply loved didn’t work out. Parker and MF. One was amazing to me, but too self-destructive to see our future together. MF was the worse relationship of my life and I’m still figuring that one out. Both of them I made sacrifices for, and both of them fucked me over (in very different ways). And the funny thing is, I’m sure they feel the same way about me. I was the one who ended both of those relationships. And I was a pretty awesome girlfriend. I gave it all. Maybe that’s my problem. I give it all.

It’s not in my nature to hold back. I don’t know if I can find the happy medium between holding back and giving it all. How do I find it?

Maybe this is a sign. A sign that the way I was doing it before wasn’t the best way to do it. And with MF, in true Ace of Base spirit, I eventually saw the sign that opened up my eyes.

Yours holding back next time with a few less signs to live by,

25swf