Never Ending Story

I came home this weekend to see family. I hadn't been home for over a month and I needed to get back to my roots. But that's not the only reason I came home. Jablonski and I had talked about me coming home and us going on a date. I was eager to see him again and he sounded just as eager to see me. He told me he wanted to talk about "us" and to take me out. I agreed to that. I haven't been on a date in YEARS and I like this guy, so it sounded like perfection.

Here's a little look inside my head before we get too far in this newest chapter of my never ending love story with Jablonski. It's been almost two months since we made out and we started talking a lot. Ever since that day we call each other and talk about life. He even called me on my birthday in the morning and left me a happy birthday voicemail then called me after work to ask how my day went. Cute. We talk about the whole "us" thing, too. We both think that doing a long distance relationship would be too much, but it's hard to deny the draw we feel for each other. I know that sounds out of control gushy. And it is. But I seriously think about him way too much for my own good and as stated before, he gives me all those tell tale signs of romantic queasiness. So, the last almost two months I have spent a great deal of time thinking about the possibility of Jablonski and me as a lovey twosome. There is a possibility. But for every great thing I come up with (the way I feel kissing him, being in his arms, talking to him, telling him about my day, his glacial blue eyes) I come up with at least three bad things (distance, jealousy, futures, wants, needs). The bad things are serious things. I can't help but think that we should at least both share the same wants, the same possible futures. I'd also be lying if I didn't factor in what my friends and family would say or think if I did seriously date him. As everyone keeps telling me, he's not exactly who people picture me with.

Then I stop and think, wait. Is this just me putting up more barriers? I can over analyze a possible relationship to death before it even has a life. Is this just me doing the same? Should I take that proverbial leap of faith and open myself up to someone new? Give myself the chance to fall in love again? (Seriously, since when did I let myself become some freaking heroine in a romance novel)

After much analyzing, chocolate eating, flip flopping, Dorothy Parker reading, and soul searching, I decided, why not give it a chance? So, when he asked about the whole date thing, I said yes.

So, like I said, I came home this weekend. I packed at least five different outfits for the date. I brought a curler and a straightener. And I think every color of eyeshadow I own. Just in case. He called me Friday night, but I wasn't going to be home until late because of a thunderstorm that forced me off the road for awhile. He agreed to call me Saturday when he got off work so we could make some concrete plans. Saturday afternoon rolled around and he called while I was in town with my siblings. We talk and agree to hang out later that night. He said he was going to go swimming and do some errands, so he'd just call me when he was done with that.

I got back from town. Took a shower. Shaved my legs. Spent extra time picking out an outfit. Spent extra time doing my make up. Kept my hair down because he mentioned he liked it when I had my hair down. I was cute and ready to go out with my pseudo boo. I was just waiting for his call.....6:30 pm....7:00 pm....8:00 pm....9:00 pm....10:00 pm....11:00 pm...

No call. Nothing. Nada. Silence. I checked my phone every five minutes. I checked the home phone to make sure it was working properly.

So like any sane person, I decided to just go to bed. And by go to bed I mean I left the living room and my parents and went to the guest bedroom to cry myself to sleep. I threw myself a pity party and cried what was left of my shattered little heart out.

Because I set myself up again. I got too excited. Too invested too soon.

And why couldn't he have called? I rationalized. Something came up. Something had to have come up. But that doesn't help. He didn't call. That's that.

I guess that's what's such a bitch about liking people or having feelings for someone. Everything becomes a personal affront. I take Jablonski not calling me as a huge rejection. And it hurts even worse because I was so sure he was interested because of everything he said. I feel stupid for believing that he could have liked me so much, wanted to be with me at all.

My sister says not to be too harsh on him because he is super shy after all. But I'm done. I've had five years of being jerked around by this guy. I'm shy, too, but I call when I say I will. And if he really wanted to be with me, the effort would be there.

He tried to call my cell phone this afternoon. I don't get good enough service here at my house to answer it. He left no voicemail. I don't care to call him back right now. Maybe tomorrow after I'm not so pissed and hurt.

In the end, what I'm saying is this is the final chapter of my never ending love story with Jablonski. I'm tired of giving guys a second or third or millionth chance. Or waiting on them to be ready to commit, find time for me.

I'm finally realizing and believing that I am worth the commitment and the time. And I'm not going to settle for someone who doesn't agree.

Excommunicated

So, I think one of the most awkward/tumultuous relationships you can have with anyone is being their ex. It doesn't matter if you broke up ten years ago or yesterday. There is always that underlying current of "Hey, we use to date and although we both agreed to be adults and end this amicably, we still are engaged in an subtle game of I'm the winner of the break up." Add to this already high stakes emotional duel the new girlfriend/boyfriend and shit gets crazy.

Let's take for example my very first boyfriend. It was a high school relationship. We broke up, stayed friends after the break up, and over the years stayed in touch. Then came the day I heard from a mutual friend he was getting married. For some reason I felt a pang of hatred for this girl he was going to marry. I had never met her, I had zero feelings for this guy, but I still felt territorial over him because he had been MINE at one point. I had him first. Which is super irrational and just dumb. But also mixed in this pang of hatred for this new girl was a feeling that I had loss. I was single and here he was getting married. Now, if we take a step back and look at the facts surrounding his marriage and me being single, I think I would win that victory laurel. Yet despite my rationality, I still felt like in our break up, which happened 5 years ago, he won.

My most recent ex is more dramatic. Instead of there even being the pretense of "let's be friends," I feel that we are and always have been mortal enemies. When he started dating this new girl, he informed me she hated me and didn't want him to be around me. Of course I didn't respond well to that. I'd never met her and I had been friends with this guy for 4 years. As a girl I could understand though. What girl ever wants her new boo to hang out with their ex? They have a history, one you are missing from, and you are always suspicious of her intentions. She's that person, whether you like to admit or not, you always compare yourself to.

Yet I feel the ex-girlfriend paranoia was taken too far. I was Ex-communicated. No more texting, no more talking, no more seeing each other at mutual friends' parties, no more phone calls, no contact at all. I became the heretic.

Of course this hurt. I'll readily admit to feeling like a victim because that's how I felt. When you go from talking to someone every day and then poof, nothing, it hurts. Especially when you know that it is a direct result from a third-party who does not even know you hating you. Plus I was already losing in the break up game. He had a new girlfriend. She was cute and blonde and light eyed and skinny. Me, I was single and brunette and brown eyed and definitely not skinny. Which is one of the many reasons I cut him out of my life, too. I was tired of feeling like a victim. I also wanted to remove myself from his new relationship equation. I did not want to be that ex they make fun or scoff at, saying, oh how pathetic. Also, it was me taking a last stand on the battlefield. Me versus the couple.

Well, over the months I ran into the said couple. Every time they refuse to talk to me or acknowledge I exist. I'll be having a conversation with someone and one of them will interrupt it to ask a question, simply ignoring the fact I'm there. Good byes will be said to everyone excluding me. Once they stood behind me at a bar and were kissing. Which I know makes me sound more like a victim, but seriously. You obviously already have the upper hand in this game. I'm still not talking to him, I'm still single and obviously a spinster. A cold hearted bitch whom no one can love, right? So why go through that trouble? Why not just say hi or good bye? I guess I just feel like it is more awkward and trouble to ignore my existence then to engage in simple small talk.

So, I took a different approach. I was tired of being so passive and feeling all woe is me. I hated letting them make me feel sad and pathetic. I decided to say hi and ask about a mutual friend. I wanted to show we could all be adults and be in the same space with each other. I can obviously talk to you guys without trying to break up your relationship. Well, that back fired. I guess because I tried to be nice and mature, I am just coming across as desperate, pathetic and grasping for straws to try to win him back because I am obviously still in love with him. And I obviously go around telling anyone who will listen how I'm the victim, blaming my ex for my current spinster status.

But, in the end, aren't we all playing the victim? Me because I'm losing the battle of the break up and I've been ex-communicated. Him because I'm obviously overly dramatic and just want to wiggle my way back in. Her because I'm an annoying pest that represents a time with her boo where I was his girl and I just won't go away. All of our perspectives are valid. I don't blame her for hating me, really. Because I would hate me, too. And I don't blame him for ignoring me because that's what's best for his new relationship.

Yet I guess in the end what frustrates me the most is how cut throat this gets. With so many feelings involved, it's hard not to get hurt and angry. Vengeful even. Which is so uncalled for because despite what she may think, I don't blame him for my current spinster status. I have no one but myself to blame for that. And I don't want him back. We had our time. It's over. He's over it, he's with her. I'm over it, dating other people. I just wish she would realize what a great thing she has with him and not focus so much energy on despising me. Same for him. I'm not trying to sound conceited saying they spend all this time plotting against me, but I just think it'd be healthier for us all if we could be in the same space and just acknowledge each other.

I sincerely wish them happiness. He's a nice guy and she seems like a sweet girl.

But, I just hope I'm happier. :)

“Better be left by twenty dears
Than lie in a loveless bed;
Better a loaf that’s wet with tears
Than cold, unsalted bread.”
-"The Whistling Girl," Dorothy Parker

Is there anything more imperative to our young developing libidos than that awkward, self-searching first kiss? The first big foray into the exciting, confusing world of teenage lust. The first taste of someone else. The first totally icky feeling of someone slobbering all over your face. It's nothing short of perfection.

My first kiss happened when I was sixteen. I was the last girl in my class to kiss someone. My friends had all had previous junior high boyfriends/love of their lives. I was (and I feel still am) chronically single. So I lacked the opportunity to lock lips with a fine strapping young lad. My friends felt it was sacrilege for a young lady such as myself to have turned sixteen and never shared an intimate smooch fest. I wasn't so worried about it. I mean, I figured that one day some schmuck would be desperate enough to lay some sugar on me. My friends on the other were super concerned and felt the need to take matters into their own hands. Which is where our story begins....

A girl in my class was having a Sweet Sixteen birthday party. It included her parents renting us a limo to ride around town in and then having a bonfire out at her house where we would spend the night. It was a fun, good time. There was lots of caffeine guzzling, giggling. singing, dancing and typical teenage girl behaviors.

This girl had a cousin from another town who met up with us and went back to the bonfire with us. He was cute and charming. All the girls had a crush on him. I'd never met him before, but I had to agree with all the girls. When we got to the bonfire, me and cousin flirted a bunch. Basic teenage stuff. Immature joking and giggling. Sitting on each other laps. The usual.

This is where my friends intervened. They saw this golden opportunity for me to have my first kiss. So, they started to lay the ground work for me. Which included them coming up to me and said boy and told him how I'd never been kissed. That he should probably just go ahead and kiss me. They also decided to position his arm around me and have us hold hands. It was all real subtle. And it embarrassed me sooooooooo much. I was pretty much the color of a tomato after their little intervention. I knew they meant well, but how freaking awkward is that? I knew I wasn't a pro at the art of seduction, but I felt like I could have got him to lean in without their invitation to do so.

Well, after my friends ran away, he asked me if that was true. I said yes, but that I didn't expect him to kiss me or anything. That my friends were just being conniving. He just said he was surprised no one had ever kissed me before because I was really pretty. (awww..) We were sitting on my friend's couch inside. We were holding hands and he had his arm around me. My hormones were going out of control. Every nerve in my body was on edge. I had butterflies super bad. The anticipation was KILLING me. While I was lost in my own teenage lust purgatory, my friends had positioned themselves outside the window. We were sitting there for what felt like eternity not really saying anything. But then eternity and silence was broken by one of my friends yelling "Kiss her already!" through the window. I heard them giggle then run off. I turned super red again. And then he said, well, they have a point and he leaned in a kissed me.

I could tell immediately that I was a huge fan of kissing. It felt like little explosions were going off everywhere. It wasn't too sloppy or wet. It was awkward of course. But overall, a big thumbs up. The first initial kiss quickly led to a million kisses. We made out and cuddled. The next morning we kissed each other good bye. I knew we wouldn't date or anything. I knew it was a one time thing. Which sounds pretty slutty of me. But I think there are just instances when we all need someone for an experience. As long as both parties are willing and fully aware, I don't see much wrong.

I never really talked to this guy again after he laid one on me. The only time I saw him after our brief teenage affair was at a high school track meet a year later. He walked by me then stopped, came back and asked, do I know you? I said, oh, yeah. I go to school with your cousin. He said...oh yeah! We totally made out at her party. Then I turned red, giggled, and said yes. That was it.

I read something once in Psychology Today that said first experiences frame our personal narratives for the rest of our lives. It's how we perceive ourselves in our minds, the part we play in following kissing matches. Which I can see. I've always been the passive, demure girl. Waiting to be kissed. Waiting for someone else to make the first move because I'm not experienced or because that's how I just saw myself. The kissee not the kisser.

But after years of playing this part, I've decided to try on a different role. Inexperienced I am no longer. I've waited long enough for the guy to make the move, being disappointed when he failed to. I've started to take a more active role in my love life. Passive schmassive. Action is now my middle name.

The transition is weird. I do kind of feel like I'm playing a part when I make the first move or do something because, well, I want to and there's no reason I shouldn't. But ultimately, I am happier. I'm learning to listen to what I want. It's a liberating feeling.

I feel like Dorothy would be proud of me. She was never one to patiently sit in the back being demure. She was the type of gal that saw what she wanted and went after it.

And that's what I want, too. No more relying on my friends to set me up. Or for a man to make the first move. I'm out to experience life, for better or worse.

Part 2

Like I said...things got odd. Real quick.

After a wonderful junior high-esque make out session, Jablonski decided to drop some word bombs on me. Like....

I love you.
I guess you're my girlfriend now.

Now, part of me wanted him to say those things. But what. the. fuck.

Then I'm informed that necking in the front seat of my parents' car in his parents' driveway equals our first date. I had no words. Honestly, what does one say to that string of absurdities?

He also told me that he felt like we had real chemistry and that I was the best kisser. Which wasn't as absurd. As we parted, he told me he'd call me the next day. But on my way home I thought about that possibility and decided that since he always fails to call me, history would just repeat itself.

Believe it or not.........he called me. And we hung out again. We talked about the possibility of a relationship. He really wanted to go for it, even though I live 3 hours away now. Try to work out a way for us to visit each other and talk. I just stated the obvious. That distance would be too hard. It wouldn't be enough. He agreed, but was still not satisfied. We decided we would talk more and hang out when I came back. He talked about coming to visit. We made out some more and he told me how amazing I was. A girl can definitely get use to being showered with adoration and compliments.

I think my favorite gushy/sweet thing he told me was that he wished we would have done this sooner so he could have had more time to know me better. I think my favorite dirty-ish thing he told me was when he told me just looking at me drove him wild. My favorite favorite thing is when he just held me in his arms and I felt small and vulnerable yet extremely safe.

He has called me since that weekend. A couple of times. We talk about our days and just small talk stuff. Those conversations leave me with a stupid grin on my face. I look forward to them and my heart skips a beat when I see his number flashing on my phone. I feel girly and amazing.

He called me tonight after work because he was thinking about me and wanted to see how my day was

Last week I found myself laying in bed, trying to fall asleep, and actually felt as if I were aching for him.

You're probably awwww-ing and ohh-ing, thinking, Happily-ever-after!

Yet.....I can't give in. It's everything you'd ever want, right? Grade-A Lifetime Movie, romance novel stuff going on here. It's just...I find flaws in every aspect of it. He lives three hours away. He'll never move away from Norwich. I don't want to make him commit to me, three hours away, when there are girls closer to home. And on and on and on and on.

Part of me thinks I'm not good for him. I'll never be that stay at home Mom type of woman I think he wants. I'd feel guilty I think.

I'm also freaked out that I'll fall incredibly hard from that high, high pedestal he has me on. He seems to think I'm some sort of goddess, which is flattering, but I'm not. I'm flawed and I'm afraid when he sees those flaws, he'll bolt. And that will hurt me bad.

So...this story doesn't really have an end. It's in the works. I don't think I have a real lesson from this one, either.

The only thing I can say is that there is nothing quite like when boy meets girl.