Memory Lane

(Note: Last week there was a new post "The Lady of Babylon." It shows up under September 1)

(Note 2: This is a pretty Emo post. You've been warned)

Memories are seriously bittersweet. Those damn misty water colored memories that light the corners of my mind. Because for the most part, I wish those corners of my mind were left in the dark. Unlike the almighty Babs, I really find it unhealthy to only remember those great, good times, completely missing the not so great times that stood to show that the relationship was doomed. I don't care to look back fondly on the smiles we gave each other. Or the time we were out on the ocean in our boat and Robert Redford was lovingly embracing me or when the dashing Robert was helping me unpack my books at our beach house in California. Well, those aren't my memories exactly. But I have ones to parallel those.

Here are some of my favorite water colored memories with my lesser versions of Hubbel.

Boy and I went to the Mizzou versus KU basketball game with our friends. There is nothing like Jayhawk basketball in Allen Fieldhouse to get your adrenaline going. It was a spectacular game, and we won of course. During the game we would hold hands briefly and lovey gushy stuff like that. I had curled my hair that night and put some Crimson and Blue ribbon in my hair where I pulled it half way up. At one point he touched my hair and looked me straight in the eye and told me he really liked my hair like that. It's hard to explain that look he gave me. He had amazingly blue eyes that drove me wild, made me catch my breath every single time. But from that look he gave me, I just knew that after this game, we were going home and celebrating in bed. Which is what we did. We were all going to go over to a friend's place to hang out after the game, but we made a pit stop at my place to work off some of that pent up adrenaline from the game. I randomly think of this memory from time to time, it always sticks out in my mind. I don't think I ever felt more carnally wanted and loved at the same time. Which sounds odd, I know.

I was laying in bed one morning with a boy. I had just woke up and I was obviously looking my best with messy bed hair and other attractive morning after attributes. Plus, there's the whole I haven't brushed my teeth and it feels like someone has walked all over my tongue with dirty socks. Now that I've set the romantic picture...boy pulled me to him in all my disgustingness and gave me a good morning kiss and then we just cuddled. We didn't talk, just cuddled in bed. I felt so comfortable and secure. It was one of those moments when things just feel right.

Okay, so this is all more painful to recall and explain than I thought it would be. We'll just leave it at those two examples for now.

I know there might be one day when I'm as mature and wise as Babs and I really will be able to look back on my romantic memories without so much bitterness involved.

But right now in my life, after the whole Jablonski escapade, my ex drama and all the other men strewn throughout this blog, it hurts to think of those fleeting moments of complete bliss because I feel they were just that, fleeting moments that I fucked up. It's not so much the boys I'm fixated on. It's those feelings of security and being wanted and loved. I am so afraid that I will never find that again. That there is no man out there who can honestly love me. Because I'm big boned or lousy or just not good enough.

Which I know we all feel at times and I am just being a huge Debbie Downer. I guess I just start to see an expiration date on myself when I watch all my best friends getting married or in serious relationships. Or even my enemies being blissfully happy with a romantic partner. You just start to panic, desperately trying to recapture those memories that cloud your mind with if onlys and what ifs. Those memories turn into ghosts of the past that haunt you every day and invade your dreams every night. Taunting you with "you'll never find that again" and making your blood run cold.

I think that may be why I was so willing to give Jablonski a chance. Well, I know that's why. My prospects are so low that when a man shows any sort of interest in me, I'll jump at the chance to find that emotional high again. I'll put up blinders, ignoring the warning signs and all the facts that stand to show me that this is a horrible idea. I easily dismiss the abuse I get in the pursuit of that drug love and acceptance.

I am a junkie. And I might as well face it, I'm addicted to love.