The Graceful Truth: Part 1

                I feel like I am at a Funeral. I know that I’m not, but there are too many similarities to discount the thought and remove it from the emotional side of my brain. The guest surrounding me in the small chapel are wearing their best attire, some are slightly moth eaten, some ill-fitting or just dusted with the dew of oldness. It wasn’t hard to imagine they pulled it out of the back of their closet’s that morning and sighed with slight frustration at not having tried on their go to outfit the day before.  There was an absence of the obvious black; instead there were purples, blues, and yellows melding together in a mesh pot of puking rainbows. I wore a silky emerald dress though I seriously considered the black. I should have worn the black.

Despite the uplifting cadence of music, the flowers pulled the scene back into a morbid affair.  Plumes of white and dainty yellow carcasses filled the enclosed space with overwhelming bitterness. I overheard it called romantic, but I saw nothing romantic about over 1,000 blooming plants that would be either tossed out or dead within the next few days.The ones closest to my seat were already browning at the edges, it wasn't a good sign and don't care that I don't believe in superstitions today it's all I had to cling on to.

I know I seem overly morbid about the event but truly I felt like my insides were slowly melting into a mush of angst and despair. It was becoming more difficult every second to breathe, more difficult to keep the solid oatmeal and strawberries I shoved down my throat that morning from making a reappearance all over the freshly polished floors.  Let it be known that for the most part I hate weddings, and for the remaining issues I have, I didn’t want to come to this wedding.

Lilting music shifted into a matrimonial death march as I saw the first sprightly youngin’ dance down the aisle tossing tiny handfuls of white petals into the air. Her joy disgusted me, which then caused my actions to also disgust me. I was shooting resting bitch face at a seven year old girl, it was beyond inappropriate. It almost felt impossible to stop myself , my heart felt like it was dying on the inside. I could feel the sharpened edge of realities knife slicing off a piece of my heart and I knew by the end of the night there would be nothing left.

Smiling faces whispered back and forth cooing annoyingly at the little girl bouncing toward the front aisle, toward him. As the audience of puking colors stood and stared up the aisle toward the entrance, my gaze slipped down the aisle.

He wasn’t looking at me obviously, and it felt strangely devious to be watching him when no one else was. His suit was a sharp charcoal grey with a black shirt and silky grey tie. A white rose clipped onto his jacket clashed with the vibrant blue linen peeking out from the chest pocket. His dark brown eyes were alight with excitement; I could see the happiness of this day seeping from every pore on his body. His hair though immaculately placed, still had a touch of rugged the way I always preferred. In a simplistic way, he looked absolutely perfect. Inwardly I sighed with loving satisfaction, outwardly I scowled.

Several other couples slipped down the aisle to the cadence of oooh’s and aaahhhh’s but the moment of anticipation had come. I saw it written all over his handsome face as soon as she appeared. The hall hushed and the music shifted once again. She walked down the polished wooden floor like a beauty queen, her bright blonde hair falling in cascading waves. Her makeup was impeccable, her smile was perfect, every bit of it made me want to puke. I didn’t want to hate her, at one time I really did love her, but the bile at the back of my throat disagreed. Watching her glide down the aisle like an angel reincarnate; I hated her, every bit of her happiness, and every bit of her perfect beautiful future.

 I wanted her to suffer like me, suffer the way I had since the day so long ago when I ruined absolutely everything.

                 

               

My Great Expectations

Expectations really suck. They aren't really all that nice either. I wake up living in LA and I expect a beautiful sunny morning. I live in SOCAL, I expect perfect weather. But what I actually get is a humid overly hot sun beating down on my tender Irish skin with unrelenting blazes of pure hellfire! Not what I expected, not what I wanted, now I am sweating and it's only 8:30 in the morning.

I completely forget where I read this, but I remember a blog/book/magazine article? about how to avoid getting your feelings and emotions destroyed over unattainable expectations. Sometimes I feel like I expect a lot out of people, out of the friends and family I am surrounded by. They most often exceed my expectations and I am lost in a cloud of amazement of their love and generosity. But then...there are the duds. The ones that you only want the simplest thing from...and they fail utterly. Now here is a problem:

I expect Person A to do Task B, but instead Person A gets all up in their head and decides Task B is far far too much for them to even try to tackle. Ugh...Task B was simple, and you failed Person A.

Sometimes I ruin my own expectations. I go to sleep with thoughts of running in the morning. I am going to wake up and be energized and walk my dog! I am going to gobble a handful of almonds and then head out the door into the beautiful morning sunshine and run 5 miles. But....in actuality, I wake up 35 min late, trudge through my apartment like a zombie trying to shake off the hysterically jumping-bean dog off my body long enough to clip on his leash and stumble outside. The sunshine stings my sensitive sleepy eye balls and it's too damn hot to do much but quickly shuffle from shady spot to shady spot. Ugh, expectations of getting in shape, ruined!

There are days whenI just think, "I will expect nothing! I will make no commitments or desires and will think of things only as they happen!" But...how negative is that? I don't want to go on a date with zero expectations, those standards are in place for a reason. I don't want to go to work without the slightest bit of desire to complete something, I would never stay on task. Living in a world of shattered expectations everyday is miserable yes, but living in one without any? That's just horrifying.

With two extremes you need a middle ground. I expect the best out of myself and everyone around me. I expect there to be love, trust, loyalty, honesty, communication, and appreciation. I also expect there to be annoyance, frustration, misunderstanding, anger, and disillusionment. At the end of the day I can expect to be let down eventually, but the point of being let down is to not let it get you down. Fall down...get back up. Scrape your knees riding a bike....get back on. Lose faith in your spiritual beliefs...pray and discover how to reconnect. There are way to work through disappointment of being let down, there are ways to conquer the fear of losing what you want to keep.


I don't want to live my life in a bubble of fear, never doing something because I am afraid I will be let down. If I just never work out, I will never be let down by not losing weight. NO, I will work out regardless of how much weight I lose because I want to work hard to be healthy. I want to charge into life full throttle with my hand on the trigger screaming, "Throw it at me, if I don't get what I want, I will blow right past you and onto the next!!" So, relationships...bring it on. Getting in shape...I am the only one stopping myself (that and the absence of coffee in the morning....). Getting the job I deserve...I have to play the game to win it. The only expectation that I will never  budge on is to live life and be happy, the rest of 'em....give me your best shot!

SS: Kismet PT I

I believe in life there are specific moments that change the whirlwind course of your future. They knock you straight off your path and onto a new road. Once the dust clears you see the spot light of a new route, a new location, a new destination, but none of this could have been possible without your previous steps. This one moment can shift your whole universe, but only if you are willing to accept it. My entire life changed the minute I met him, and once I saw his face I knew there was no going back to the way things were.

I know what you are thinking, I can hear the high pitch drone of your question even as these words spill out of my brain, “But Grace, this sounds like the typical beginning to the most typical love story in everyone’s mind-numbing typical life.” To this I say no and not because my life is unusual and extravagant in any way but because there is only one moment like this. Even if I knew the correct steps to replicate the moment I met him, the exact second our eyes connected, I would never get it right. This isn’t a typical love story, because I promise you there is nothing like this.

Sitting in a crowded bar and listening to overly loud hipster folk music I stare across the small circular table at my date. His greasy blonde hair is slicked over to one side, his suit coat is commendable even if it’s a little short on the sleeves, his pants are abhorrent and should never be allowed to be worn outside of the house. From the neck up he is what most people would perceive as a stuck in the closest, never want to come out, hard core gamer nerd. He isn’t wearing the glasses to match this description, but the indentation lines on the bridge of his nose and his never ending squinting when it comes to ordering is a harsh give away. From the neck down to his waist I would say he has class and style. The coat may be a bit small, but it’s a classic vintage tweed coat. The heavy elbow patches fit in nicely with the light burnished brown tint, even the small blue flower sticking smartly in the front coat pocket completed the image of debonair. That’s where it stopped unfortunately. From the waist down he wore overly tight rusty colored jeans that clung to a man in a way that no pair of pants ever should. His skinny chicken legs made me fear for his sturdiness, one steady sweep of the legs and those bones would snap like a dried pine branch in the woods.

This man I shrewdly stare at is not the man that changes my life and I would hope you didn’t think mister rusty skinny jeans was. I did tell you that he changed my life, but I never said my life began with him. My eventful days started way before destiny decided to get up off her lazy ass and help me, though really the beginning would never be something I would ever complain about. Growing up I had a phenomenal family, many wonderful adventures, I was lucky as a kid, but you don’t need to hear about that. You probably want to hear more about him, but instead I need to first fill you in on the details leading up to that moment. I promise you the wait is worth it, at least that’s what I have been telling myself. The wait is worth it, though I disagree at the moment. The man across from me turns his attention away from the slinky blonde behind the bar to look back in my direction.

“Do you want another drink?” he yells over the squealing notes of the violin several feet behind me.

“Sure,” I reply casually. If I was going to enjoy myself I figured I should at least drink up as much as he was willing to buy.

The blonde man, or Zared as he called himself, slipped over to the bar engaging the cleavage enhanced bartender. I turned my thoughts toward other avenues. Unfortunately this happens a lot. I feel like most of my life is wild moments of rushing only to sit and wait for something to happen. I can’t tell you how much I hate this, how much I hate just waiting. So many outsiders have told me, “Just you wait Grace, the man of your dreams will come in and sweep you off your feet.” Those people are so full of bovine fecal material.

Zared comes back with an overly orange Old Fashion, too much simple syrup and not enough whiskey. It was free so I didn’t complain even though I knew for certain the bartender made his with a little more care and precision. Small annoyance to the overall picture.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked softly, almost too softly. I could have ignored him pretending I didn’t hear his simple sweet question, but I knew what he was really saying. ‘Do you want to get out of here, or am I wasting my time.’ He was most definitely wasting his time.

The date ended uneventfully. He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head and allowed him to graze my cheek in a slobbery mess of a kiss. “Um…thanks.” I said as sweetly as possible and then grabbed my keys and made a dash for it. Horrible right? Totally uneventful and boring. Nothing to look forward to, and nothing to get excited about, it was just another day. But then, like I told you everything changed. 

After a long string of uneventful nights, even worse mornings, a typical routine of work, play, sleep, and drunk, my life suddenly catapulted into over drive. The moment was so casual and normal that I almost missed it, but when I saw him I knew this wasn’t an average day. It was like a slow movie unraveling right before my eyes. 

The day was sunny and achingly beautiful, the weather couldn’t have been more pleasantly perfect, the wind whipped up around my ankles flipping the long dress I wore languidly back and forth across my legs, pure bliss. I was standing against the chain linked fence watching the little league game with mild interest when I saw him walking toward me. The sun glittered over his features making the soft chestnut of his hair shine like freshly polished cherry wood. Grassy green eyes smiled back at me and a solo dimple caught my attention as he walked straight up to me. I didn’t know him, didn’t know his name or who he was but his eyes told me differently, he knew me.

“I know that face, Grace Parker, isn’t it?”

They were simple words, easy words, a normal everyday sentence but from that moment on, my life changed in a way that I could never repeat even if I tried. You may try to prove me different, but I tell you this out of pure confidence. The sequence of events lining up to this one purely wonderful moment is completely wacky in the most ridiculous and unforeseen ways. I may not believe in the all-powerful almighty poking his nose into my life to guide me on a special journey, but I do believe there is a special path just begging us to stroll over. I believe it in the way I desperately want to believe in the idea of Santa Clause and the Easter bunny. It’s unforeseen magic is the beauty of it all. Maybe I didn’t cross paths with fate, maybe my version of kismet truly isn’t real, but as I stare into the grassy green eyes of my future partner in crime there is nothing else closer to the truth.

SS: Post Apocalyptic Winter

I can peg down the exact night you ruined me, the exact minute you destroyed the value of my own self-worth. I can tell you the second your words finally sank into my mind and I allowed them to fester into molding disgust. It was a seeded tumor, so small and finite that at first I ignored it, allowed it to lie. But then I nurtured the words, watered it, kept it thriving in the soil of my mind. I allowed the seed to grow into a tumor flowering it’s poisonous berries day after day. I nipped at the lush fruit like a starving child, I coddled the flowering thorns even though they cut me straight to the bone, I allowed the vines to wrap around my neck cutting off my desire to breath. You stunted my growth in one single night, and I carried the weight because it was all I knew how to do. 

Everything up until that moment was the same, always easily the same. Weekend morning of laziness, we didn’t wake up until maybe noon. I yawn and ask, “what’s for breakfast,” but not because I hope you will actually cook breakfast with me, you never do.

“Wanna go down to the corner café?” I nod my head at your question like it was a new adventure even though it had happened almost every weekend since you moved into your own little dwelling. I would never complain about your place, I loved it the way I love a nice snug blanket on a chilly afternoon. Tightly comfortable, soothing enough, but still not enough cover.

Our days roll into one another, a stumbling storm unkempt and without ties. The blur of monotony picks up a steady hum and I forget why I am here, where I am supposed to belong. But I don’t walk away, I don’t turn around. No matter how lonely I feel, I crave the constant. The beat of your force keeps me hanging on tight because once I let go you won’t take me any further. I am here because you allow me to be, I stay because I have nowhere else to go.

The first time it was small though it shook me straight to the core. It wasn’t expected, and it came from around a corner hidden beneath the cover of harshness. Fast lights, quick songs, steady drinks and some stumbling steps. Suddenly you were screaming at me to leave you, go away and never come back. Excuses lashed at my skin like a 1920s tommy gun, BAP BAP BAP, ongoing until I couldn’t take the abuse any longer. I may have walked out but I didn’t let go, otherwise why else did you come find me?

The next morning was smiles, a soft stretching in my direction and those sharp blue eyes. “Hey there,” you whispered, and I smiled in the heat of your words encouraging a tradition that would shred me into pieces that no one would be able to mend. At first I was ok, I remained steady and buoyant, but slowly I started to drowned gripping onto the hand so tight that was slowly pulling me beneath the surface.

One night I drove you to the store because you needed “things”, but you seemed so distance so I reached for you and brought the back of your hand to my lips. You jerked back from me like I kissed your skin with hot coals. “Don’t do that!” You snapped at me, but I didn’t get it. I stared at you open mouthed and uncertain of what I did wrong, because it was me that was in error, me that made you snap, and me that made you get angry. I apologized like I always did when these little things happened, uncertain of why but also positive I was to blame.

A month before I left is when you brought down the axe, the infamous words that would haunt me for years to come. There were no surprises to me, maybe I should have seen it coming, maybe I should have expected the fight. By the tenth beer maybe again I was to blame, I didn’t stop you like I knew I should, and I didn’t hesitate when you yanked me off my stool and said it was time to leave. Maybe I should have known, but I didn’t, maybe I should have shoved you out of the car like I promised I would, but I didn’t. Maybe I should have listened to the voice screaming inside my head but tonight, I pushed it all away, and I snuffed out the only fight I had left.

Your words burned like salt in my eyes, ripped like a tidal wave down my cheeks but you didn’t stop. You continued the attack until we reached oblivion. I couldn’t come in, I couldn’t stay, you were pushing me so hard that I had no choice but to leave, but I didn’t. I didn’t fight you, there was no way I could, but I didn’t leave. I stayed there and watched as you threw my things out your front door. I waited until your lights blinked out and walked straight into your room. I curled up next to you and let your arm wrap around my middle, so familiar and so stern. “I’m didn’t mean it,” you say softly. Before I can answer, you are already asleep.

I walked away eventually visually unscathed and whole, but beneath this surface I was a rolling wreck of terror. Commitment became the enemy and loneliness became the drug I steadily tried to quit. There is a torrent of faces that flicker through my mind, a rolling number of names, but they didn’t care enough to dig beneath the surface and release the monster within. Bruises can be covered, but shattered glass is noticed right from the start. You broke me that day, shattered the core of my passion, and trampled the hope of my future. I can’t blame you for the destruction I have laid waste on my path to my present, but I do know you set off the spark. I won’t say I did nothing wrong, I have more faults than I can count, more mistakes than I would ever admit to, and more lies then I would ever try to explain away. Your destruction laid waste over my life for years and years, relentless in its wake, torrential in its path of destruction. You started this, but I will be the one to end it.

It wasn’t a perfect day, in fact it was grey and gloomy outside but the cool current kissed my skin in such a perfect way. There was something about the electricity in the air, something about the way I couldn’t seem to keep a smile from my lips, something about the way I was finally able to breath deep. You see something happened that I never expected, something happened in my life that I don’t think I ever thought could be a reality. There was ice around me, an impenetrable winter that kept me  closed off and hidden from view. I thought the loneliness would kill me, perhaps snuff me out of pity. The knife of you had dug so deep, the pain of you gripped on so hard. But on my gloomy afternoon looking up into the greyish blue sky I realized that all my bruises had finally healed. That’s when everything changed.

I can feel the warm rays of Summer and the heat has never felt this good.

SS: The Black Cat

I feel that our lives are a Mobius strip of events, one leading into the next in an infinite road map of possibilities. One singular decision can make or break your future. I have always considered myself a cautious decision making person, I weigh the possibilities and examine the lengthy outcomes. Moving to LA changed that way of thinking though, I had to think quickly, on my feet; I had no choice but to decide. If you don’t say yes or no, the possibility of amazing will literally zoom past you without even a single glance back.

The sun streams through my window at a relentless tone, overly bright and evilly crude. I want to throw my pillow at the window like I would an annoying alarm clock, but that wouldn’t shut off the brightness. I would only succeed in losing my pillow. Not the best start to a horrible day. I made the decision yesterday to go on a date with a guy I wasn’t wholly interested in. It’s not like most would assume, I don’t go for the free dinners, and I don’t go because I am lonely. I go on these dates because I am looking for something, and I know for a fact that even if I don’t see it right away I might see it differently the second time around. Basically, if someone has the nerve to say hello to me and ask me on a date in a gentlemanly fashion I will say yes. (I don’t take too kindly to lines like: Hey baby, wanna get a drink over at my place? Then I will say no, no, and hell NO!!)

This particular guy asked me out last night via text message, he wasn’t too keen on talking over the phone. (There’s a clue if I have ever seen one; if he doesn’t like talking to you on the phone, you won’t really keep his interest all that long in person either) Typical to my dating life, I met this guy online. He seemed sweet in an awkward I am not wholly attractive but have a great personality sort of way. I am not keen on meeting people who are model attractive, I don’t really need to be around a man that sees himself as the canvas of art to gawk at, I don’t need to pay him compliments though that type of man always fishes for them. This guy, seemed different. He had a sharp wit, outgoing attitude, and at first I really didn’t care that physically he wasn’t my “type.” (Yes, I most definitely have a type, but no I don’t always follow it)

Work was typical, if anything it zoomed by and before I knew it I was on my way to a local-ish bar called the Black Cat. It is as hipster as it sounds, which tells you something about this mystery online date man, but to be honest it was also my kind of quiet but busy place to meet on a first date. I parked close enough to not make walking a big deal even though the two inch heels I wore dug into the back of my ankle ever so slightly. The things women deal with to look attractive on the first meet up. My hair was slightly curled (meaning I had to wake up a good 30 minutes early to achieve the carefully tousled locks) and my make-up was as perfect as it was going to get after a full 10 hour work day. I walked straight up to the door and felt my body slide into the intimacy of the bars lively surroundings. It was dark, but atmospheric, and I could smell the hint of orange and basil. They made great cocktails at this joint, I could tell already.

My eyes darted up and down the long bar as my date texted me that he would, “be sitting at the bar.” I walked casually past the patrons scoping out each single looking man and realized if the man I thought was my date, was indeed my date, he most definitely did not resemble his pictures. In the nicest way possible, he looked like he was wearing a sweater several sizes larger than what his pictures painted him to be. I am not a person that goes on looks alone however, I want to know the person for who they are. (Here is where you find another tiny WARNING sign. He lied about his appearance, and it wasn’t a tiny lie, it was at least a 60LBS lie. That doesn’t bode well for this person telling you the truth) I looked straight at the back of his head for about 15 seconds before I zoomed straight past him and headed for the restroom. I suddenly really needed to pee aka, think through my decision.

I texted him, “I’m here,” just in case the man at the bar wasn’t actually him and I mistook him for someone else. But no such luck, he responded with, “I am at the bar wearing a blue sweater.” I sighed resolutely, washed my hands with as much soap as possible counting down the seconds as slowly as I could, then I headed to the bar.

“Hello there,” I said easily. He turned and flashed me a brilliant smile. Perhaps he was a little over weight and not what I expected, but he had a kind face, really straight white teeth, and beautiful eyes. Surprisingly we had a huge amount in common and our conversation flowed easily for the next three hours. Usually I don’t stay on dates that long, but it was easy to accomplish. Our first date turned into two, then three, and before I knew it we were dating.

I need to reinforce the overview of this little story, that my decisions could lead me down a good road or a bad road, in a lot of aspects its completely up to me. I hesitated to go on this date, but then I started dating a really out going, fun, decently attractive (to me anyways) man….who also owned way too many sneakers in my mind, hated talking on the phone, didn’t like being around my friends, insisted that he drive everywhere even if he had had a little too much to drink, introduced me as his friend, never opened my door, always split the bill with me (even though he made way more than me), told me in private that he wanted me around all the time but professed in public that he would never settle down…..the list goes on. My problem at the time, I enjoyed the fun aspect of what he had to offer. I didn’t think of the consequences of my decisions because I was having too much fun.

Guys like him don’t want security, they want flimsy excitement, something easy to toss out with the weeks trash. I didn’t push hard to say I wanted more, but I slipped up and said one little sentence that completely ruined everything. He had invited me to spend a weekend with him and his friends in Palm Springs, and of course I was stoked! Me and him went up the night before and spent a night swimming in the Jacuzzi, listening to great music, making dinner and drinks. It was an experience I could get used to. The whole weekend was a blast, and for the most part it was one of the first times he brought me around his close friends, I felt ultimately privileged, but three hours before we left for home I made a terrible mistake. I invited him to my home town the following weekend.

“To San Diego, that sounds fun. Where would we be staying?” he asked as he packed up the last pair of sneakers he brought (to make a total of five sneakers for a three day trip….just saying).

“With my parents.” The three little words ruined absolutely everything, and I felt it the minute the words escaped my lips.

Fun and outgoing turned into dropped plans and massive lengths of silence. Two weeks after our fun trip in Palm Springs he told me via text, “I am just not looking for anything serious.”

I argued with myself over this situation for many months;

I made the mistakes, it was my fault

He made the mistakes, it was his fault!!

In truth, we both made mistakes and he didn’t want what I did, and I didn’t see the truth he was obviously telling me. Being single and dating teaches you many lessons, but I think the one I have learned the most is that my decisions ultimately change everything. I can make the choice, and I can choose to listen to the signs or I can ignore the signs and destroy my buoyancy of hope and excitement several weeks or months down the line. In truth, I started to really care for him and his short and brutal let down really got to me. I allowed him to have something that wasn’t his to own; my happiness. 

Now I know what you could say to this, “It wasn’t your fault that he was an ass hat.” “It wasn’t your fault that he treated you wrong.” “It wasn’t your fault that he wasn’t the guy for you, he’s a jerk!” But…to some degree it was my fault that I let him get that close. I think that is was dating is all about though, learning, understanding your strengths and weaknesses and learning how to say no, no matter how lonely or neglected you feel. He taught me a very valuable lesson that I carry with me strongly today. Don’t settle, don’t be afraid to do what you know you want, and don’t ever feel like you have to always say yes. It’s really hard being an independent woman looking for someone to share a life with, but it’s not impossible, and I won’t give up.

Short Story: The Best Friend Rules

1)      Don’t get too close to a guy you see everyday

2)      Don’t become really good friends with him if you are already attracted

3)      Don’t let him give you hugs for random moments outside of saying hello and goodbye

4)      Don’t let him see you without makeup

5)      Don’t let him see you cry

6)      Don’t become best friends

7)      Don’t fall in love with your best friend

8)      I said don’t…..

 

 

I know these rules as well as I know the back of my hand, but just like the back of my hand there are moments of, “where the hell did that freckle come from!” No matter how well you know something, it doesn’t mean it won’t change.

 

It’s easy, I will get right to the point, I met him on a Thursday morning on the first day of class. It was my final semester in college and I was more than ready to be done with it. I have heard the age old saying, “college isn’t about learning, it’s about putting up with all the bullshit to see if you have enough guts to wade through the massive stinking piles surrounding you.” I was done wading, and ready to start living.

 

It was the first day of Applied Arts, a mess around class that basically allowed you to fool around for most of the semester. You had six weeks to build three separate master pieces, with any form of structure, any use of materials, you just made random shit for six weeks and then presented it at the end of the class at a gallery art show. It was my last class, and the only class I had all semester long, my days would be easy sailing from here on out.

 

I sat down in a chair toward the middle of the wide classroom, and watched as the expansive room filled up with well over 50 students. Most of them I knew, but like most private schools with off campus living, I wasn’t all that close to many people in my classes save a few. Perhaps I would be making more friends before the end of the class.

 

I shouldn’t have thought that, I should have just kept to myself and choose a seat right up front, but as fate would have it I didn’t. As fate would have it, he sat next to me. Taylor Garland. I’d seen his face several times before, but we had never shared a class. It didn’t stop him from sitting next to me and saying, “Hey Grace,” like he had known me for years. It didn’t stop him from making silly jokes throughout the first day of lecture like we were already best buds, and it didn’t stop him from asking for my number as a work buddy when the Professor said we would need a partner for our first project.

 

I won’t lie, the first three weeks went by uneventful enough. After the first day of being shocked by the up close view of his stunning copper brown hair, and seriously brilliant green eyes, I was able to keep my girly-ness in check. I didn’t swoon when he walked through the door, and my breath didn’t catch in my throat. For three whole weeks he was just a friend, a sweet natured, easy going buddy; then one day all of that changed.

 

It was a random day in the middle of the week and I was running late for class. I lived less than mile away from school but it was still a hefty jog if I was going to walk. I hated being late, and to be honest it had nothing to do with my teacher giving me the evil eye, it actually had everything to do with Taylor. Even though I hated to admit it, I loved every second I had with him, and it was slowly becoming a problem. I would rush to class and get there before he would casually saunter in, and at the end of class I would slow my pace and put everything away one little piece at a time. I wanted more minutes next to him, and as much as I was trying to deny my affection growing, I just blamed it on the fact that he was a good friend and I enjoyed his company. What dirty evil lies I feed myself, nasty dark bitter lies.

 

Not only was I running late, but I was also unable to get my car to start, and me being the idiot that I am decided it was a great idea to call Taylor. “Hey, I don’t think I am going to be able to make it to class today. You think you can handle taking notes for me?”

 

“No!” Was his first response. “I’m not even there yet, if you aren’t going I’m not going. Where are you, I’ll come get you.” I should have said no, I should have lied, I shouldn’t have told him exactly where I was because then he would know where I lived. I shouldn’t have told him that my car wouldn’t start forcing him to offer me a ride every day for the remainder of the class. Most importantly I shouldn’t have gone with him to the bar he took me to instead of being in class like we were supposed to be.

 

The first drink was ok, but the second one was uncalled for. The third one should never have happened and the fourth one I totally blamed on Taylor. We were giggling, and groping onto one another in our stumbling drunken state. We left his car at the bar and somehow managed to make it back to his apartment. We laughed and giggled the whole way down the hall to his room, and we stayed up all night playing stupid you tube videos and laughing at dumb music videos. We both agreed it was time to sleep at 5 in the morning, and we both equally crashed when our heads hit the pillow on his queen sized bed.

 

I woke with a slight headache, a rolling stomach, and a preconceived notion that I had mascara running down my face. “Hey, you have mascara running down your face raccoon,” he said without a pause when his eyes first split open.

 

“Thanks,” I replied sarcastically. “Your hair looks like Alphalpha and Einstein put together.”

 

“Wicked.” He said on a yawn. “Breakfast?” And that’s how our routine of sleepovers started. We never undressed around each other, we cuddled slightly but not obscenely, we just loved being around one another. There was slight sexual tension, but I only ever saw it on my side, I never really knew if he felt the same way. Maybe one morning I woke up to us spooning and I felt a little more of him than I should have, can’t say I regretted it, but I can say it made my cheeks flame bright red and I quickly scooted away so he didn’t know I noticed.

 

Two weeks before our class was over we were listening to a lecture on the practical use of wire in plaster molds. Maybe 15 minutes into the teachers introduction to new metal materials I felt Taylor’s hand moving up my calf the tops of my black zipper boots. He reached for the zipper and pulled it all the way down leaving my boot to flop open like a peeled banana. He didn’t fix the zipper he just left it wide open flashing me with a daring smile with the words, ‘wanna play?’ sparking from his grassy eyes. For the next 45 minutes I endured, ok maybe I thoroughly enjoyed, Taylors hand slowly sliding up my calf and then slowly zipping down my boot as his fingers trailed over my skin to the tops of my ankles before I reached down and zipped the boot back into place. Zip. Caress. Zip. Repeat. When class was over he reached over and gave me a hug. “Hey be right back, I have to head to the counselors office, but I’ll meet you out front in about 15 minutes ok?” I nodded, and that was when casual un –needed yet totally wanted hugs popped into our lifestyle.

 

Three nights after the boots charade I found myself doubled over in fit of pain begging any god that would listen to fix me. Which is ridiculous when you think about it really, there is no point begging for anyone to fix the problems of being a human, but it would be nice if someone listened. I didn’t get a god to help ease my pain though, I got Taylor. As the kidney stone worked its vicious tricks inside my body threatening to cleave me in two, Taylor walked into my room screaming at me to get off the pot. It was funny, but I couldn’t laugh, instead a stream of tears slipped through my lashes and I cried out like a woman giving birth to an elephant. I wish I was exaggerating, but I’m seriously not. Those little spiky calcium bastards hurt like a bitch!

 

“Grace, babe, what’s wrong?” Taylor asked as he fell to the floor in my bathroom. He had pounded through the bathroom door like a battle ram almost like he thought someone was murdering me, but when he saw me cowering on the floor in a pile of messy sweat ridden clothes and massive tears streaming down my face his eyes flipped over to concern in an instant. He called me babe, was all I could focus on. Which seriously was ridiculous looking back at the situation. I was on the floor in a fit of pain, a kidney stone was stabbing my internal tubing like a blood crazed axe murder and the only thing on my mind was, he called me babe. Crazy, I was going crazy. “Tell me babe, what’s wrong?”

 

“Kidney stones,” I whisper on a wave of pain desperately trying to hold back the tears. Before I could stop myself though, I thought of Dane Cook, don’t ask me why because I will never understand why it popped in my head. We had only watched the stand up video one time that very first night we were together but before I could hold the reins on my idiotic rambling I looked him dead in the eyes with tears streaming and said, “I did my best.”

 

That was when I no longer saw him as just a school friend, he was a rock of strength for me. He was my go to friend to call in all situations. When I locked myself out of my apartment he climbed through the window. When I stubbed my toe walking to his car he lifted me up and carried me the rest of the way before running (and I mean quickly running) back to the school to grab me a band-aid. To answer any questions popping up in your head no we hadn’t kissed, we hadn’t cuddled naked, or do anything that involves the naked tango. We were just friends, really good, really close best friends.

 

When he stood in front of the class on the last day, I knew I was in trouble. I knew I was done for. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. They were so beautiful as he spoke, I wondered right then and there what they tasted like. I was desperate to know, but I knew I wasn’t allowed to have that knowledge. Best Friends don’t kiss each other, they don’t, and that’s because Best Friends don’t fall in love with each other.

 

All my rules, every single one of them snapped in two, I let all of them fall through my fingers because of this one beautiful man. I was stuck then, because I couldn’t look at him any other way. My eyes lingered longer. My hands itched to slide through his hair. I just wanted to be close to him, I wanted to hold onto him and have it be more than just friends.

 

On the evening of the Art Show I dressed my best to impress. Little black dress and strappy black heels, hair curled and make-up on, I was a much hotter version of my typical dressed down state. By the looks in his eyes when he picked me up, he thought the same. “Hey sexy lady, you need a ride?” He cooed at me from the street as he pulled up to the curb.

 

I giggled and tried not to let my imagination run wild with hunger over what he just said. I didn’t want to let my thoughts slip into more dangerous territory, but staring back at his crisp grey button down and black slacks, I knew I wasn’t going to win that fight. I was losing, quickly. The night was amazing, and like always we had our own secret fun between just the two of us while we were surrounded by people that we didn’t much care for.

 

I told myself no, I swear I screamed it when I looked up into his face as the lights dimmed and a short video popped up on the far wall running through a montage of school work unable to make it to the Art Show. His eyes locked on mine too, a small dare of, ‘let’s see who blinks first.’ But the perversion of our games usually headed down a more dramatic ending, and as the music grew louder, the space between us grew smaller. I felt his breath across my lips, and my eyes slipped close before I could stop them.

 

What happened next I didn’t plan because there is no way for me to plan things like this. You don’t just decide, a best friend is just that…a friend. But not Taylor, he was more than that to me, more than I could have expressed to him in single words or looks. I didn’t know how else to explain it to him, and instead of thinking through my actions I did what any completely insane love sick puppy girl would do. I slammed my lips against his causing him to jerk into sudden stillness with shock. It was only for a second, but the butterflies that swarmed in my stomach made it feel like hours.

 

“Um…,” he said immediately after I pulled back.

 

“Yeah,” I replied, my eyes still closed tight. But I didn’t stop there, why would I? There was no reason to be realistic and think that after a sharp biting kiss that me speaking was a good idea. I wasn’t in my right mind, I was losing my shit, but I did it anyways. Such an idiot. “I’m falling in love with you.”

 

Those words, they are death when unwarranted. They are cruel evil punishment when not expected, they are sharp grating knives when used without consent. He didn’t reply, he just stared at me, his glossy green eyes blinked several times but he didn’t speak. His hands reached out for my waist and he pulled me in for a soft hug. My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest. “I think we should go home Grace.”

 

He gave me a hug, so that was sweet. He drove me to my apartment, but he didn’t stay over. He said he had work in the morning. I didn’t see him the following day because I had work that evening. One day led into two, which trickled into four. It was the longest amount of time we had been apart since we met. I felt like my body was literally dying from the inside. My heart felt like a withering stone flaking into useless ash inside the barren cave of my chest. I not only pushed him away, I kicked him out of my life with six simple words.

 

My heart only fluttered fifty thousand times when I saw his car parked outside my apartment the next afternoon. My steps only felt like 100 pounds of lead as I saw his shoulder leaning against my door like he was trying to force the wood open by his weight alone. I might have stopped breathing when he turned toward me his eyes wide and sad like he hadn’t meant to kill the joyful bouncy puppy like friendship we originally had before he suddenly disappeared. I tried to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

 

He took three steps toward me and stopped before his hands reached out and pulled me into the tightest hug I had ever experienced. I breathed him in because it felt like he was saying goodbye as much as he was saying sorry. I tried to remember the feeling of his warmth because it felt like I would never get to feel it again. I felt his face nudge closer to my ear as the heat of his breath slipped down my neck before he whispered the words that would change my life forever. “I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

When did dating turn into this?

I am going to Preface this with a small note: I don’t need to explain to you why I am single, but I feel maybe other women want to hear they aren’t alone in the issues that crop up when you are a strong independent single woman.

 

I am going to follow that up with a small message: I don’t appreciate when I tell a guy I want to take my time, and get to know him and he automatically assume I am rejecting him and tell me…and I quote… “maybe you should go find some dumb ass meat head who only wants to get in your pants, maybe you just want that anyway.” Doesn’t that also mean that you are turning your hate on me because you are lonely and…also I quote…. “just want to be with someone, anyone, it doesn’t matter who as long as she wants to be with me. I don’t want to be single, and I want to find someone who also doesn’t want to be single.”

 

Yesterday I was asked a very simple question, one I know I have been asked before but for some reason when this question filtered through my synapses into my brain, it really irked me. The question was: “Why are you still single, is there something wrong with you?”

 

Now, to explain the situation, on this date were discussing the difficult position of being single when February hits. I, on one hand, would love a sweet romantic evening, but at the same time I don’t want that from any joe-schmoe. I would love to be with the person I love and care about, but if I don’t have that when the infamous hallmark holiday comes around I don’t get sad. I don’t worry about being alone, and I don’t care that I treat it like any other normal day. I actually enjoy being single, I enjoy the freedom and the carefree way I am able to live my life. Now, that isn’t to say being in a relationship sucks. If you are in a healthy relationship and love your S.O. then awesome for you, and I am happy for you!! I am only trying to get the point across that whether you are in a relationship or you are not, you should love living your life and enjoy what you have. Being single comes with many perks, as does being in a relationship, but when someone actually makes the point to stab at my singleness like it’s a disease, it makes me a little annoyed.

 

I am not single because I am forced to be, I am single because I choose to be. There is a very big difference between the two. I would rather be happy on my own than be in a miserable relationship because I am afraid to be by myself. Just because I am alone, doesn’t make me terminally lonely.

 

Something else that has happened more recently;  I am finding a lot of men take me trying to “be friends first” in a negative way. If I don’t meet a guy in the normal organic way, and we meet with the precedent of going on a date, they almost automatically assume that if the date went well I will be their girlfriend by the end of the week. I’m sorry boys, it doesn’t work that way. Even worse, they expect that if the date went well and I show interest, they assume they will also get lucky by the end of the night. I really really don’t understand that logic. (Now, disclaimer….of course this isn’t every date. I have had some seriously great dates, have amazing guy friends, and have dated some wonderful men that I am still really good friends with. Those are the men that I share with the people in my life, of course you don’t really hear about these guys that I am referring to because they rarely last longer than a week on my radar. Just needed to clarify.)

 

Look I like going on dates, I like meeting new people, and I like making new friends in the wild search for my one “true partner in crime.” The problem is, that once you do something that the guy you’re on a date with doesn’t like or agree with you immediately get dubbed the slut, the bitch, the crazy, the overly sensitive…they go from telling you they are beautiful to calling you a crazy psycho bitch in less than 30 seconds.

 

Now I am not knocking the dating scene, or first dates, on-line dating, or anything that involves dating. Like I said, I do enjoy the random outing, but I am more and more amazed at the reactions I get from guys when I tell them something they don’t want to hear. The list of things they usually get upset with……

1)      You are really nice, and thank you for the date, but I really think I should go home instead of going back to your place

2)      Well I have only known you for less than a day really, I don’t think being your girlfriend right now is a good idea

3)      I like to take my time and get to know a person before I become romantically involved with a person

4)      The first date was fun, but I don’t think you are what I am looking for in a relationship

 

Actual responses to these statements

1)      I thought you were fun and easy going not a stuck up bitch

2)      I thought we were really great together, we had so much fun. I guess I was wrong about you though, you just aren’t up to par of what a perfect woman should be

3)      Does that mean you play the field and sleep around, because I don’t date whores

4)      Fine, whatever, go sleep with all those other ass bags who treat you like crap. You probably like them for that anyways, sluts normally do.

Talk about defensive, crazy critical…..and RUDE!!

 

I know your reaction might be….”Jessica, why are you taking this so seriously?” Well, to be honest I am not taking it to heart, but I think I am more amazed at how many times this has happened in the last three years of me being single. This isn’t a onetime thing, this has happened repeatedly. Those men who swear they are the last gentleman alive, but then call you a total bitch and whore because you didn’t sleep with them. It seriously boggles my MIND!!!

 

The truth of the matter, I don’t need a man to be happy. I don’t need to lock down a boyfriend ASAP to make myself feel fulfilled. I don’t need someone else telling me who I am, and how I should  live my life, and that they think I am a shitty person. I know who I am, and I won’t apologize for also knowing what I want.

 

I am a single woman.

I am independent.

I am happy…and no one can take that away from me.

Weapons of Self Destruction

Don't worry dear sweet
This won't take long
It will happen so fast
You won't even know
Look at the pictures
And take it all in
Stab your self hard
Don't you dare give in
Hold onto the knife
Don't you dare let it go
Push it in deep
Until you can't say no
Listen to me now
There's nothing to save
Watch yourself bleed out
All over the page
Rip your chest open
And bare it to me
Blessed sweet darling
Give it all up to me
And when you see him
For the very next time
You'll feel nothing inside
Where it once felt Devine
Now tear out the dagger
You shoved so hard in
And submit to the tears
Before your new life begins