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Archive for the tag “finding love”

‘I’d love to get out of the game. Be wonderful and take me out of the game, please.”

I told him, “I’d love to be out of the game. In fact, be wonderful and take me out of the game.”

Basically, I kept dancing around his question of what I was doing later, because I had a date. Or at least, I thought I had a date.

I got stood up. And I wouldn’t dare treat this dude like sloppy seconds and ask him out after the fact. He’d totally call me out for it. But he figured I had something else lined up and called me out anyway.

He said it was no big deal and that he expected that I had options. That I could at least appreciate.

The irony of the fact that this guy grew up in the same tiny hick town from which my dad’s entire family started on this earth was beyond fascinating. We did the initial check to make sure our blood lines didn’t cross. I’m still not completely convinced, but the last name wasn’t among most of the names tossed around, so I was willing to proceed.

Our conversations had been solid. He wanted to solidify a date in the coming days, and thankfully he wants to go out tonight.

I also happened upon a neighbor through my POF travels. He was the one who had the nerve to stand me up, which is absurd, because I can stand on my balcony and basically look into his.

After our successful dinner at an Indian restaurant Friday night, we both watched each other as we drove into the complex, curious as to just how close we actually was. I pulled into a space, he pulled into a space, I walked towards my building, he walked towards his, then we met in the middle of the lot.

If both of us stand on our balconies, we can literally wave at each other. He’s lived in the complex for nearly as long as I have and I’ve never met this dude ever. It was crazy.

I will say this… and as I type, he’s apologizing via text. I like his smile. I was smiling all through dinner because I already felt it in my bones, that if the opportunity was right, I’d give him some.

You can imagine my disappointment when he totally with no warning stood me up for a movie. Radio silence. Um you check the movie times, “Ok.”  Then nothing for hours. I refuse to keep following up. So I stayed inside, poured the wine and watched the Golden Globes, giving occasional Twitter commentary.

But that doesn’t even take the cake. Me and the mad scientist went at it. I’ve noticed he is an insecure man. I’ll try to break this down as quickly as possible.

He was having a horrible week, so I offered to cook him dinner Thursday night. Thursday afternoon he informed me he wouldn’t be able to make it, but we should get together on Friday. Well, I was working late so I told him I wouldn’t feel like cooking, but I really wanted some Indian food.

Because he had major flooding in his basement, he had to reallocate funds to home repairs and said he was low on cash. I told him that I’d have no trouble treating especially since he was having such a rough week.

So even in trying to go over the logistics of getting together, we were both becoming increasingly frustrated with one another. I tried in my sweetest voice to ask him what would be the most ideal situation for him and I’d do it, and he complained about finding parking in my neighborhood. So I was through. I was over it. And I rescinded my offer.

Before rescinding my offer I told him, “You see that I tried, I asked you 50 different ways how to make this work.”

So I went to dinner with my neighbor and had a great time.

The next day mad scientist texts me while I’m out with my friends and I don’t answer. So by sunday he sends me a message saying, “I guess you have nothing else to say to me, if so let me know.”

I respond. “I don’t have anything else to say.”

Then he says, “So you’re done, correct.”

“I’m done. I don’t think I can ever make you happy.”

“Make me happy, what is that supposed to mean?”

So this went on and I was getting further annoyed. I told him that truth be told he was acting like my ex and I didn’t like how that was making me feel dealing with a moody person and trying to do nice things for them and they still complain. I wasn’t going to do it.

So he latched on to me comparing him to my ex, called me “ludicrous” because he was having a tough time and he wanted to confirm again that I was indeed finished with him. I was getting more upset that he needed to ask me three times, when the previous two I had already said I was done.

Last night, I really went to bed thinking that I hate dating. That I want it to be over.

I wondered if something was wrong with me. I really did. There’s no lack of men. Fine, they are easy to find. But geez. The meshing has been the trouble. I wonder how much I changed. I wondered if I was losing my ability to go along and get along and I was just being difficult. But, I don’t think I am.

I am impatient. I do want something wonderful to happen and I want to be in the bubble. The happy bubble o love… not even love but intense like where the person is all about you and wants to make you happy and you want to do the same.

I guess I do want it too badly. I guess as the mad scientist pointed out, I have let dating in DC get to me and it’s stinking up my aura.

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Gone Fishin’ Back Online Dating Again, Oh Boy

I’ll admit. I’ve been in a rut.

I’m slowly climbing out. So I went ahead and joined an online dating site, again.

I’m doing Plenty of Fish this time. It’s free. Whatever. I have noticed there are some good-looking guys and it seems like IT guys are ruling the roost, and most folks are talking a good game. But what’s so funny to me is that it seems like everyone wants the same thing, a chance, but we want a chance with people we want and that’s all we want.

Therin lies the rub of these sites, if you aren’t completely open-minded and willing to bend a little and just actually meet people, I think you will be highly disappointed and disgruntled. One guy I talked to last night said that on two occasions he went on dates with women who looked nothing like their photo.

I’ve decided that I’m going to at least hold conversations with the men who appear to be interested in me, and as one of my favorite books suggest, wait on what it is I feel, not what I see, to help guide my decision.

All of the men who I think are attractive, I have a feeling a lot of women think they are attractive and some of these dudes have an attitude. The other dating site I used last fall, it seemed like I had a flood of men trying to meet me on the first day.

I feel like things are moving kind of slow. But I also made the decision not to put any photos of me up with straight hair. I’m wondering if that’s been a deterrent and I don’t have any full body shots. I’m going out with one of my friends tonight, so I’ll get my friend to take some then.

I’ve come to the conclusion I need a cute guy who doesn’t realize he’s actually good-looking. I’m so serious. I’ve decided to look for one stand out feature in a guy who I might not be interested in at first glance and capitalize on that. If I notice he has great eyes, I’ma hold onto that. If he has a great smile, I’ma go with it. He might be large, or super skinny, but I’ve decided if I find one physical feature that I can dig, then I’m all about it.

I’m a fan of beards and goatees, so if I see a nice one, I’ll go with that too.

I’m going to be open. I am making room and providing a welcome atmosphere for my dude to show up.

I’m going to be able to identify him and it’s going to be awesome.

I did already get invited to a bbq this weekend. It made me feel a little uneasy because we only had a hi, how are you convo.

And I’m confused by the men who send just a hi in a message. I wrote some gems, you don’t have an opinion on anything I said, at all?

I know people did reading comprehension in school where they had to read a passage and then write about what they just read. I’m saying, can these dudes at least do that?

As usual, I’m going to keep you fine folks posted.

A Tale of Two Sisters

I have had a million things on my mind.

What else is new?

I had a strange feeling yesterday as my sister sent me a lovely photo of her, my brother in law and nephew after church.

They looked like the perfect little family.

It was like three in the afternoon, I didn’t go to church, I was still in my pjs and I was alone. I was feeling guilty that I hadn’t gone to church in weeks. But I really didn’t have the energy to sit through service as people went on about their mothers. I love my mother and I’m thankful for her, but it’s not a day that I really enjoy because of how complicated our relationship is.

I was a little bit jealous looking at the photo, but at the same time so happy that my sister managed to find her happiness and find her place and her lane.

My sister has been the kind of woman who settles down and always appears to be content. Sometimes I confused that for her playing it safe, and settling, meanwhile I was always the one to branch out, do something different or crazy and test my limits and my independence.

Sometimes, it made me feel superior.

I often wondered, why don’t you want MORE? What is out there that you dream of or feel like you lack? Why haven’t you just gone for it?

It confused me. I felt like we were made up of the same stuff, surely she had a desire for more. I looked up to her. She was a great student, a good athlete, very smart, very beautiful. I felt like she hid from her greatness. It was like her greatness was more than she could stand, a burden, a sin and she wanted nothing to do with it. It would draw too much attention, and it would be too much.

That bothered me, since I thought so much of her. I but I actually still do think highly of her. But she’s not me, and I’m not her.

She is still a little bit of a mystery because a decade separates us. She was off to college when I was eight, and she never came back home.

She never stepped up to meet it her greatness and look it in the face and accept it, I thought. Even when I tell her how beautiful she is and how she should wear her heels higher and her jeans a little tighter, she’d just shake her head. It wasn’t comfortable to her.

Why didn’t she she what I saw?

I’ve come to the conclusion, my sister is satisfied.

Sometimes, I am jealous of her ability to be satisfied, while I’m always in search of the next, the better. I can’t stand still, and more and more, I say what’s on my mind and what I won’t accept and then I don’t accept it.

We’re two sisters living in two different worlds.

She admires my independence. I admire her groundedness.

Things aren’t perfect. And she’s had her struggles. Her frustrations with work, my nephew has had some medical scares with seizures, but she’s had an amazing husband who has stood by her and seems to adore her still.

I had a long talk with my cousin Friday night, and I asked her if I was too independent, too selfish for a real relationship, marriage? Would I be able to subdue my often independent and creative and impatient nature and would my future man accept it?

It seemed like my sister was highly suited for traditional, stereotypical marriage. She didn’t have a rebellious streak in her at all. She did everything she was supposed to and without complaint or grumbling. She was a good kid. She rarely got in trouble or talked back to our parents ever. I had the smart mouth. I would question. I would act a fool in the store.

She would occasionally stand up for herself when necessary, but like myself, she calculates her moments and tends to be non-confrontational unless she has to be.

When I was engaged and preparing for marriage, I was trying to mimic what a good wife was supposed to be– full of self-sacrifice, totally supportive. I put everything into my relationship. However, my creative side was lacking. I was afraid if I didn’t faithfully put a certain amount into the savings account we created together that we agreed upon, I’d be letting down my man, I’d be cheating him and I wouldn’t want him to think I wasn’t pulling my weight. Our accounts and our participation in contributing to them allowed us to live as we pleased without worry. It was smart. I wanted to always be attractive to him, I wanted to be able to do the things he wanted sexually. I thought that was what good wives were supposed to do. The best wives seemed to be the ones who sacrificed the most.

So here I am.

I know myself better than I’ve ever had before. But I worry.

I’ve seen a lot of pain. I’ve seen a lot of selfless acts in my family. I’ve seen people fear and or deny their own pleasure and happiness and wants because they had to take care of someone else out of love and duty.

I don’t want a life like that. I want to feel like I’m being mutually loved, nurtured, protected and taken care of. Love should be freedom. The person you love should make you feel free. Yes, you have a duty to them, but you should feel most like yourself. You should feel free.

The stakes are getting higher and higher for me because I see how quickly life can change how life is filled with joyous moments, but also highly painful ones that require support networks free of judgement, and full of acceptance and love.

It’s strange how I don’t want my man to feel like he has to sacrifice everything for me, but I want to just know, like I know my own name he would if he had to, but because I love him just as much and I’m giving too, he doesn’t have to… Because that’s what you do for love.

You don’t trap people.

You accept them. Even when they change, because they are going to change and grow and you are going to change and grow too.

The goal is to change and grow in a way that benefits the unit.
I think people in relationships are allowed to change and grow.

But the vision for the relationship should always remain the constant. You have to agree to that from day one. Even when children come and when they’ve left the house, even when there is success, even when there is failure.

You both are looking at the same goal.

Sometimes I wonder if I already know this man. I wonder if I have to fall in love again and fail once, twice or even three times, before I’m supposed to be with him. If I’ll be mature enough or worthy enough to be allowed to have the one finally revealed to me.

I wonder If we’ve met before quickly and brushed past each other on a busy street, or we’ve sat and had easy conversations that lasted well into the night, laughs lingering in warm air. I wonder if he’s right around the corner, or living half way across the globe, doing all of the things he’s supposed to be doing so he can find his way to me at the exact, preordained time. I wonder if it will take ten years from now to find or rediscover him.

The timing isn’t up to me.

Who he is, isn’t even up to me.

It is up to me to recognize his voice when I hear him.

His touch when he touches me, his kiss.

To look in his eyes and see him and know.

That kind of love is out there.

I’m sharpening my skills to better identify it.

I’m getting closer.

I was told not to worry. That he’ll find me and love every bit of me. He’ll accept those dark things that occupy my mind that makes me quiet and moody sometimes, and he’ll love me through it. He’ll give me just enough space, but he’ll know exactly when to come in, not say a word kiss me on my head and hold me close.

Everyday, every action, we both are getting pulled closer.

I believe.

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