Tag Archives: single

Daylight

21 Jan

There are days you just feel bipolar. You know the days I’m talking about. One second you’re smiling and the next you are one sad song away from a complete breakdown. It’s those days I am the most pensive, for better or for worst.

I was walking the malamutes for my last walk of the day, and spaced out into this daydream where I was talking to new work crush about why I was single. Long story short, daydream me said some things real life me rarely says out loud. Being a bipolar day, I’m dwelling.

Sometimes I wonder if in all seriousness I’ll always be single. Most of the time I am positive and chipper, convinced I’m just not willing to settle and one day yada yada. It’s only in the shadowed corner of my heart that the thought clings on and festers. What if I missed it, my chance?

I have only ever had one serious relationship, one boy to call mine (one boy to rule them all, and in the darkness find them…sorry, had to, LOTR geek). It has been just over five years since that relationship ended. Since, I have had my fair share of trysts, but nothing of any merit really. With the exception of HB, of course. Mr. Wrong was, well, wrong, and HB, he was something else. That boy would have given me the world if I could have just taken a moment and gotten over myself.

In all that time I was being self-centered and convincing myself I didn’t need anybody, what if he came in and left again, and I didn’t even notice? I mean it has been five years for God sake. Besides, some people are happy just being there own person, it happens, I could see it. Maybe I’m just going to spend the next decade or so bouncing around from one to the next until I get bored, throw my hands in the air, finally just accept my spinster-hood and get a dog (I still refuse to be the crazy cat lady).

Or maybe I’m just being crazy. However, a fear is a fear no matter how small and sometimes it makes it feel better simply to share. Maybe you are reading this and are totally relating. Maybe it’s something you only allow yourself to admit in a drunken stupor because if you said it out loud in the light of day, you’d want to swallow some pills. That’s ok, I’ve been there, and there’s nothing wrong with thinking positive thoughts instead. Just know you’re not the only one, part of me really thinks all us single people are in the same boat.

In fact, that brings me to that previous post I wrote, you know the one. I really think we need to start a club. We’re single and proud or something less cheesy, A LOT less cheesy. But there would have to be rules. Like no judging the couply people, and no trying to keep someone in it, and no being bitter. Just a thought. Like all the rest of the stuff that comes out of my head.

PS Dear HB,

Fences

17 Oct

I am so bad at beginnings.

Weeks ago I got this amazing idea to start a blog! Yeah ok. Where am I at in this venture? A few half done posts and a lot of procrastination. THAT should have been my major, considering what a pro I am.

Why are beginnings so difficult? What holds us back? I’ve thought a lot about that in my 24 years, well really maybe more the last 4 than the rest, but you can do a lot of thinking in 4 years. Is it because endings more often than not are more difficult than we want to face, in which case, it is just easier to simply not start in the first place? Maybe this doesn’t apply directly to a blog, but possibly we get so scared of the big beginnings that the little ones seem just as daunting.

I have also made the observation that beginnings become harder to begin the more time you let go by after an ending. (And here I will make a huge leap to a similar yet not so similar subject, don’t be alarmed) Four years ago there was an ending that exploded all over my then-present and future. Immediately following, my personal life went into a coma I wasn’t sure I would ever come out of. I managed to fulfill daily living functions, but life felt numb. As I am sure you have guessed, all this was due to a romance gone terribly awry. We’ll name him Mr. Wrong. Mr. Wrong was my Mr. Right for two years, two years I believed with all my heart would end with a proposal. Instead it ended with Mr. Irresistable and a hole in my heart the size of Texas.

After I managed to pull myself from the oblivion I call junior year second semester, I was determined to make up for lost time. There were lots of beginnings for the next three months. Tall beginnings, short beginnings, long beginnings, round beginnings, nameless beginnings…but that was all they were, beginnings. Beginnings without any middle or end are empty and simple. You could fill your whole life with them because there is no danger of bleeding out.

Beginnings without risk is what I needed that summer, but eventually, they weren’t enough. Texas was slowly getting smaller and I started to love beginnings that had a little danger to them. And for a long time those are the beginnings I craved. The first few times you really start getting to know a person, no expectations, no preconceived ideas, just the butterflies and rush of blood to the head. That would be all I wanted though, and once the feelings faded and it was time to get real, I’d get going.

Until 4 months ago.

Four months ago I was stubbornly single and grasping my independence with an iron fist. I did what I wanted when I wanted and the idea of commitment made me want to drink myself stupid. This code of honor is what held me back from what potentially could have been the love affair I wished Mr. Wrong could have been. The missing link that brought me from blindly, but determinedly running from any hint of the “c” word (commitment…get your mind out of the gutter), to breaking down the barbwire fence around my heart. Hunny Bunny (“HB” for short) was infatuated with me and wanted nothing more than to lay the world in my lap. He cared for me so intensely, so sincerely, that it was too much for my shrunken view of what I deserved, or even what I wanted.

It is a long story to be saved for another day, but HB is the reason I am searching for a new beginning. One worth the risk and full of adventure. The reason I want to get past the hollow beginnings I have made my trademark and find the middles full of intimacy and comfortability that only come with time and persistence.

Beginnings are necessary, but we can’t be scared of the endings, because what if, one day, there is a story without one?