What a splendidly hypocritical way for me to come back to the blogosphere. Scolding relationship/dating experts who are desperately seeking page views, shares and retweets. But this topic has been weighing on me for some time and I wanna talk about it, dammit.
First Kiss(es)
My first kiss moment occurred when I was but a lass of 15. Astyn B. was hosting an end-of-the-year party on her parent’s farm. (I don’t count the one inside the Kindergarten playhouse from Dylan or the time Tadd F. pinned me down in the gym in 3rd grade.) For most of the night I had been flirting with Josh P. as adeptly as any newly minted sophomore can (I’m sure he remembers my suave moves a bit differently). He was one of the taller boys with brown eyes that I thought revealed a very deep teenage soul. He had such style about him in his polyester Adidas shirt, which had a melted spot where the bonfire spark landed. It was one of a collection. GQ model material right there.
Leaving with Nowhere to Cleave
The past year or so has been a new kind of struggle for me. My relationship with my family has been changing. In the sense that I’ve been growing into a more independent individual. I’m more private about my affairs. I don’t solicit opinions for every major life decision. This all probably should have happened long before my 27th year, but some of us are slow learners ok? I’ve actually been making this journey for some time. Little steps here and there, but the ties of influence still remained stronger than they should for an adult child. My decisions were still colored by the opinions of my parents. Essentially if Benjamin Moore made a shade called Parental Approval, my walls would have been covered with it.
I’m Baaack Or At Least Some Version of Me Is
It’s official. I’m that girl. The one who abandons all her (imaginary) friends when she gets a boyfriend. I didn’t really want to abandon you. Things just got so busy and… The truth of the matter is writing a blog about being single, dating and relationships is a bit of a challenge when you’re in a relationship. Especially when the blog is ostensibly unfiltered. I was faced with pushing out disingenuous posts or revealing too much about someone who wasn’t choosing to have his worst qualities broadcasted on the Internet. (Because let’s face it, no one wants to read about how sweet, cute, talented someone’s boyfriend is. We want dirt!) Plus, given my reactionary nature and the way I use writing to work through my frustrations, I would likely want to take back 75 percent of the posts the day after they were published. Especially the one entitled “Pick Up Your Socks: A Tale of Why My Boyfriend is the Worst Human Being On The Planet.”
Too Much Togetherness
Among the many not-so-loveable patterns I repeat in my relationships is my desire to spend every spare moment with the snugglebear in my life. Probably because I go so long between snugglebears that I have to squeeze in as much as I can to catch up. I caught myself doing this again with the boy of the moment this past weekend. We had essentially spent the entire weekend together, so he declined my invitation to share a lovely Sunday with me. My instinctual reaction was to get butthurt and conclude that he chose not to spend time with me because he hated me with the fire of a thousand angry suns.
Is That Supposed to be a Compliment?
One of the few connections I made online dating that had any sort of promise at all was met almost immediately with the challenge of distance. Cosmic circumstances brought him out of my state and into another with no definite return date. It was unfortunate because he had the makings of great potential.
Speed Dating: A Review
I’ve always wanted to try speed dating. I have no idea why. Maybe because that particular scene in the occasional rom com always looks so delightful. Maybe it’s because my least favorite part of the pickup is the part where you have to actually walk over to the human person who piqued your interest and speed dating has that approach built right in. Maybe I’m just a sucker for awkward situations and forced connections. And hey, it’s blessed by a rabbi!
Crazymaking, Gaslighting and General Assholery
After I split with my fiancé for the final time, I spent weeks of therapy learning that I wasn’t (am not) crazy. The real eye-opener was this book. It read like a narration of the entire demented year and a half. It was then that I recognized the gaslighting that was going on inside of my relationship. Evans named it crazy-making, but the concept is exactly the same. He (or she) dismisses what you’re feeling or thinking as a dysfunction of your personality or entire gender in order to control the situation and, ultimately, you.
Religion, Dating & Finding Out I Can’t Remain Detached
I’ve dated on nearly every point along the Western religion spectrum from atheist to spiritual-ish to Jesus freak. In theory, if a guy hates Jesus, it should be a deal breaker for me. But I’ve blurred the lines on that rule, probably one time too many. For the most part it hasn’t been a major problem in the early stages. Mostly due to a mutual respect for what the other individual believes. Healthy conversations can be had without turning into conversion attempts or all-out arguments. Much like a friendship on the same plane. Except, unlike friendships, you may have to raise a child with this individual so that can be a problem down the road.