Worth the Risk

A few weeks ago, I got an email from a friend of mine in DC. She's not someone I know that well, but she reached out to me about her current situation: she's thinking about moving across the country to a place she's always wanted to move with a guy she met a few months ago. They wouldn't live together, just continue dating. And unsurprisingly, her friends are concerned and therefore not as supportive as she was hoping. She asked what I went through when I moved to NC and any advice I could give her.

This is what I wrote back:

I totally hear what you're saying about your friends not getting it. I think that's because we are all pretty rational about everyone else's lives, but not as much as our own. We consider our emotions and gut feelings when we make decisions about what we're going to do. And it sucks that other people can't feel or relate to those feelings--or even affirm that we have them at all.

I think it's good that friends are looking out for you, but ultimately they can't know what's best for you. Only you know that. The people who care about you in DC want you to stay put, I'm sure. No one is going to say, "Please move across the country!" They love you; they want you around. It's a good thing.

When I met Carolina Man, I knew almost immediately that I would marry him. Everyone thought I was crazy, except for my mom who backed me 100%. That ended up being enough confirmation for me to move forward with the move. I wanted other people to feel excited for me, but after many failed attempts to get that reaction,  I finally came to the conclusion that they just weren't going to get it, at least not as quickly as I wanted them to. Everyone thought I was crazy to move for a guy after two months. But, it's turned out to be the best decision I've made in a long time.

I say, go with your gut, and choose carefully whom you bring into your decision-making.  You are a beautiful, smart, talented woman, and what's the worst thing that could happen? You move there, hate it, and decide to move somewhere else. So, I'd say if you can handle that and it feels right, then go for it. I think love/adventure/excitement is always worth chasing after. Otherwise we're just living in fear of what we might lose.

I'm not sure what my friend will ultimately decide, but I hope that she makes a decision out of a place of both head and heart, and not out of fear alone.

Friend Dating

You know what's just as challenging to find as a man you want to have babies with? Finding a friend that will put up with you gushing about him.

Yep, I'm ISO of some NC friends. And that means awkward friend dates. On Wednesday night I met up with a cool woman I'd emailed with about work stuff. Unlike my romantic dating life, I actually got to be the one asking out, and I was super happy when she agreed. Yay, potential friend!

The time was fine, although at one point I was wondering when our food was going to show up. I felt like I carried a lot of the conversation, asking questions and filling in what I perceived to be awkward silences. (I blame that on being extraordinarily extroverted.) And, I ate all of the food on my plate, not because I wanted it but because it was something to do.

I'm probably making this sound a lot more painful than it was. We had a good time and we have a lot in common. I think there will be future friend dates. But, after only two "dates," we don't really know each other. And no matter how much I want to have a close friend here in NC, she and I weren't going to go back to her place and watch YouTube videos together like Katie and I used to do.

Sigh. Living in a new place is tough. It's difficult for me to remember what it felt like when I moved to DC. I'm sure I felt similarly. But, when I think about DC, what I remember are the friends I had at the end of my time there, not the loneliness I felt at the beginning.

Just like back when I was single my brain used to say over and over, "You're never going to meet a man. You're never going to get married," my brain is now telling me, "You're never going to have friends in NC." Not really helpful to have bullshit like that swirling around in my head. So, I've got to keep putting myself out there, going out on friend dates, and believe that somewhere out there will be a friend that'll I really click with.

Do You Trust Me?

I've been trying to put myself in my friends' shoes with regard to Carolina Man, but it's really been a struggle. I get the fact that for those who care for me most, what's most important to them is that I not suffer needless heartache again. They've warned me against moving too fast, urging me to be cautious (though when I ask "what does that mean?" they can't tell me) and to get to know him better before I make any big decisions.

But last night I ran out of patience. I was talking to my very best friend, and I snapped at her when she told me to be careful. "What does that even mean?" I snarled. And when I mentioned moving to North Carolina, she said, "Well, you'd be moving into your own place, right?" Earlier in the week when I told my good friend from college about how strong my feelings for Carolina Man are, he rolled  his eyes and said, "You always do this." Always do this? It hurt to have my happiness cast aside as hopeless romanticism, as just another leap into the abyss of future disappointment. It was almost as if he was saying, "Haven't you learned by now?"

I want to scream, "You don't even know him! How can you judge someone you've never even met? And for God's sake people, can't you fucking trust me on this one?" 


I was nearly in tears when I picked up the phone and called the most trustworthy voice of reason in my life, my mom. I told her how frustrated I was feeling about my friends' doubting reactions to my newfound  happiness. "I know they want what's best for me, but why can't they just trust me on this?"

And this is why my mom rocks so much. She said, "Sweet girl, I have known you your whole life. I've always told you that when you met the right person, you would know instantly. I have never heard you talk about anyone the way you've talked about Carolina Man. And I trust you."

She said many more helpful, affirming things about my maturity and self-awareness, but what meant most to me in our talk was that she said she trusted me to know that this is right.

I want my friends to fall in love with Carolina Man. I'm hopeful that once they meet him and see us interact, they will. But, at the same time, my confidence in our relationship is based primarily in my own gut feelings and experience of him. My top priority is ensuring we have as much time as possible to get to know each other and experience each other in different settings, which is why I'll be driving down to North Carolina for five days this week. I can't wait.

Trust me on this one, friends. I know quality when I see it. And in time, I'm certain you'll see it, too.

Good Day Sunshine

Well, not in DC. It's rainy, gross, and not going to break 60 degrees today. But, I've still got a smile on my face because where I'm going on vacation on Friday, the forecast is this:

Have you ever seen more perfect weather? I can't wait to get my beach on with some of my favorite ladies in the world.

Wondering how classy of a place this is? It happens to be the home of...

That's right, a mullet throwing contest. Packing for this trip might be a challenge, seeing as how I'm lacking in jean cut-offs.

Flor-Bama, here we come!

What We Do for (Sort of) Friends

I had made the mistake of signing into Facebook chat one evening when a message from my grad school friend S popped up:

"r u coming 2 my ordination?"

Ah, the dilemma of such a simple question, a question I'd been asked by S on what felt like a daily basis. One I had successfully evaded for the last month or so.

"not sure. need to check my schedule. gotta run. bye!"

I quickly logged out of Facebook and into my Google calendar, hoping to find some legitimate excuse--a work event, a professional development training, even a teeth-cleaning--for that day so I could give a firm "No" without a guilty conscience. But nope, nothing--just blank.

"Crap," I thought. "I'm either going to have to go to this thing or come up with an excuse to miss a really important event in my friend's life."

Let me just say, I know I'm not a perfect friend. But I am one who generally shows up when it counts, and I'm happy to do so. Everything from wedding dress shopping to apartment-searching, I like to be there when my friends need me. I even went to another friend's ordination (snotting and sobbing most of the time, but I showed up!)  the day that SCL broke up with me last March. For a good friend, there is nothing more special than being part of the highs and lows of life.

But, then there's friends like S. It's not that I don't like her. I do like her. A lot. But, she isn't what I'd call a good friend. We get along well, and we've been through shit together, but when it comes to her actually showing up when it counts, she just can't manage it. She has made bailing a habit, citing headaches or cramps or being tired or just "not feeling like it" for backing out of plans with friends. In fact, she canceled her own birthday party which she'd invited dozens of friends to at the very last second just a few weeks ago. While she has a lot of lovely attributes, reliabilty isn't one of them.

So, when she asks me (repeatedly) to come to her ordination a few hours away, I really don't want to say yes. Part of it is that I don't want to spend the time going there and back, but it's more than that. I think it's more knowing that if I asked her to do the same for me, she'd probably wouldn't show up. Because she hasn't in the past. Repeatedly. It's a pattern I doubt will change. At the same time, should I allow her behavior to shape what kind of friend I am in return?

When I logged back into Facebook again later that night, my newsfeed was littered with messages my friend S had posted to others' walls, very similar to the one she sent me: "r u coming?" "hope u can make my ordination!" "can u sing at my ceremony?" etc. I realized her hurried invitation to me over Facebook chat wasn't really heartfelt or thoughtful, and I wonder how much it would really mean to her if I showed up. I began to think maybe it's more about her getting a critical mass there instead of my individual presence. And if that's the case, I think I can cut myself a break on this one.

Don't Be Tardy for the Party

My bestie from childhood invited me to ring in the New Year in the ATL. Rather than dropping $100 on tickets to some overrated NYE party, we decided to get our club fix last night at Tongue and Groove in Buckhead. Turns out, we weren't the only ones with this bright idea and ended up waiting in line, shivering in the cold for a good half hour. Why they wouldn't just let everyone in, I don't know. Let's be real; this is Atlanta, not New York. The club was next to a damn Taco Mac and a Five Guys.

Once we finally got inside and avoided paying cover (thanks to a bartender who'd put our names on the list), we waded through the sea of peeps who were, despite rocking music, just standing there. No one except the scantily clad cage dancer was even doing so much as a fist pump. People were just milling around, overpriced drinks in hand, looking like middle schoolers at an overcrowded, smoky sock hop. My bestie, a light weight, and her friend did two shots in a row, so I figured someone ought to stay sober. 

We managed to find a spot upstairs to dance. Naturally the douchebags began to pounce. My friend, newly single and a total hottie, was deservedly getting a lot of attention--just not from very nice dudes. My overprotective side came out when one persistent asshole kept grabbing her, even after I pulled her from him away three different times. I yelled in his ear, "She doesn't like you. Go away!" He grabbed her again, and that was it. I was PISSED. I pushed him off of her and shrieked, "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER, ASSHOLE!" My bestie's friend turned to her and said, "I like her." 

Eventually we found a better spot to dance. One stumbling drunk told me I look like the girl in the Bourne Identity. I told him I live in DC. He said, "Oh, so you must work for the government?" "No, actually I don't." "Good," he replied. "One less person to pay." 

Being the sober one in a crowded, smoky club isn't the most fun thing in the world. But the other two were having such a good time that I just had to laugh and join them in dancing up on one of the stages. That's when I realized we were almost at eye level with the DJ, and I realized this was my chance to redeem the night. I was going to get this guy to play my favorite song. I started shouting, "Ceelo! Ceelo!" I made a pathetic attempt at sign language, forming a "C" then an "L" and then an "O" with my hands. He still didn't get it. So, I flicked him off with two hands and mouthed, "Fuck you!"

Hmm. Maybe should have thought that one through first. Quickly I shook my head and said, "No no no!" and did the pathetic sign language again. "Ceelo! Ceelo!" "One minute," he mouthed back. Song after song played, but no Ceelo. The music began winding down and they did a "practice" countdown for NYE. I thought all hope was gone...and then "Fuck you" came on. I started jumping up and down, both of my hands flicking the crowd off and acting a fool as I blew kisses to the DJ, my new best friend. 

Who cares if I was sober, had to deal with asshole guys, and got cigarette smoke in my hair? I managed to get the DJ to play the best song of all time. I call that a good night. 

Friends in Low Places?

"All logistics aside, whom among your friends here would you want to be with you right now?" my therapist C asked.

Just minutes before I'd given her a laundry list of depression-like symptoms I'd been experiencing over the past several weeks: anxiety, inability to focus, excessive sleep, weight loss. Overall I felt like I was being pulled underwater by an undertow, or riding my bike uphill with a full-force wind gusting against me. No matter how much I fought, I could not seem to pull myself up. For a relatively competent, strong-willed person, this was proving to be...well, depressing.

Of course the break-up and subsequent flailing about have been tough on me. But lately it had begun intensifying, and the feelings of sadness were becoming more extreme and debilitating. I've had my bouts of gloominess and mourning at different times in my life, but never had I experienced the despair of feeling like I could not get out of bed, could not take a shower, could not function normally. And it was freaking me the hell out. Part of me was hoping she'd say, "Let's get you an appointment with a psychiatrist." Let me pop some pills, let me be abdicated of any responsibility. But the symptoms were relatively new. At least for the time being it was "episodic," a "depressive state."

In addition to feeling like shit, I was feeling isolated, too. At some of my hardest moments, all I wanted was some company, to be with somebody else. But when C asked me the question, "Who do you want to be here?" and I mentally went through my list of friends in the area, I could not come up with a single person I felt I could call to come sit with me in my puffy-eyed, unshowered misery. "I can't think of anyone." The truth killed me.

Somehow in the following days I managed to get my momentum going. I forced myself out of the house, to happy hours, to friends' houses, to the gym. I bought myself ingredients to make my favorite soup and cozy new sweatpants. I practiced the kindness to self that's so new to me. And by the next week I returned to my time with C feeling like things were getting back to normal again.

Feeling normal, that is, until my weekend in North Carolina when I was reminded of what it's like to be loved and known. I cried the entire six hour drive back to DC. I kept saying to myself, "Why am I torturing myself by living here?" Hell, even if I was just as miserable in NC, at least I'd have friends there who care for me just down the road and family close by. And since then I've barely managed to get out of bed. I'm back down in the valley and feeling more discouraged than before. How can I muster up the energy to pull myself out of this shit yet again?

I see now that what I really want is what I'm lacking most here. Not friends, not acquaintances, not social groups, not outings, not happy hours. It's the feeling of belonging somewhere. Of having friends who not only are up for a night out but are there in the dark places. Of having community, connection, realness. The person I have that most with here is SCL.

My friend L said it best: "It's like you are having to fight for every ounce of happiness you have there." That's exactly how it feels--a fight, a battle both internal and external. And I'm just getting exhausted. C says it's normal to feel like there won't be anything other than these feelings. I guess in that way at least I'm "normal" because I'm just not seeing a way out of this one.

Coming Home

Homecoming is one of those compound words I never thought about having actual meaning. I know, it's not that complicated: Coming + home = Coming home = Homecoming. But that's because in high school Homecoming was just an excuse to have a popularity contest with the whole queen thing, buy an expensive dress and pretend  you are having fun at an awkward dance. But this weekend I experienced a true "coming home" when I arrived on my college campus for the first time since I graduated in 2005.

Although I expected to feel out of place therer, especially in my singleness, I rarely felt lonely while I was there. Honestly the formal events--the receptions, the dinners, etc--were not that great. It's fun to have a glass of wine with someone from your freshman hall, but I could only take so much of that. Not the wine part, the bullshitting part. Especially when my Barbie doll roommate (aka "Blondeboobs") is there, making me feel all inadequate and shit. Most of my close friends are from grad school, not my undergrad.

But, I really made an effort to make the weekend my own home coming. Instead of booking a hotel, I stayed with the chair of the biology department who also happened to be my ballroom dance coach while I was a student. I met up with my major advisor for lunch and visited my voice teacher's studio. I even made a trip (nerd alert) to the library to "visit" my senior honors thesis, bound and with my name on the spine. I saw friends from other classes who now live in the area and all claim to love it. They're even working on me to move there.

The real highlight was a four-hour breakfast I had with my favorite prof A. She and I have the quintessential relationship that my alma mater brags about--in school she was my mentor, and as an alum she's my friend. A really good friend in fact. I've been on vacation with her family. We have phone dates at least once a month. When I got to her house, the first thing I did was dump an entire mug of scalding hot coffee on  her white place mat and her pristine hardwood floors, not to mention my own lap. In any other situation, I would have been completely humiliated. What'd she do? Handed me her favorite pair of yoga pants, threw my jeans in the washer, and told me she'd done the same thing just days before. If that's not love, I don't know what is. I heart friends you can be your own idiotic self with--and who insist that you are not an idiot even when you know you really are.

It was a fantastic, peaceful weekend. I definitely felt at home, relaxed, and completely normal in my messiness. I felt connected, known, and understood. If only I could figure out a way to feel that way in DC.

Carolina in My Mind

I'm packing up to hit the road, but this time not for work. Imagine that! Tomorrow I'll be heading down to North Carolina for my fifth year college reunion. I've been looking forward to this since last fall when life looked a lot different.

I haven't been talking about  my ex SCL on the blog much anymore, but he's been on my mind this week, mostly because of this reunion. This may be the last occasion that I'd really looking forward to doing together. My college is the one place I idealize, and I smiled at the thought of worlds colliding, of bringing him into my circle of friends and beloved professors and memories. I pictured the ring that would inevitably be on my finger by then, one like this, and how I'd get to talk with my old classmates about save-the-dates and honeymoon plans. 

It was a pretty picture. And now it's another loss. 

My college town is straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It's got a Main Street with an old-school soda shop. The town is manicured and picturesque  in a way that normally would irritate me. I love the city, especially for its diversity and realness. But for me this college town is my happy place, the one place I've forgiven all the bad and romanticized the reality. I think we all need something like that.

But, I don't feel like I'm going to fit back into that pretty picture. I see my classmates who seem to fit right in with their gorgeous wedding photos and chubby-cheeked cherub children. They will fit, I think to myself. But me? I feel like I've fallen behind on some understood timeline, that regardless of its ridiculousness does at times like these make me feel inadequate. 

As much as I don't want it to, I realize that this weekend may bring feelings of loneliness, of grief, and I should try to prepare myself for that possibility. It's an opportunity for me to practice that kindness toward self that I keep talking about, to allow for the space to feel what I'm feeling. And, I also know it's going to be fantastically fun to be back in my college town. I've already got three catch-up sessions with my favorite professors lined up! And of course I will enjoy seeing old friends and talking about old times.

So, it will be a bittersweet weekend, but one that I'm looking forward to regardless. It's just one of those times I really wish I could share with SCL.

Heal Over, Friends

On a beautiful walk along the Potomac, Date Me, DC! and I discussed how while we are certainly feeling a bit down on this whole dating thing, our dear ones--our friends--are having even tougher times--lost jobs, broken relationships, and for one of my closest, the loss of her mother. I spent Saturday afternoon at her memorial service, in awe of this amazing woman's life and even more in awe of my friend, who read from the Gospel of John with such poise, passion, and insight. A true testament to her strength and faith.

During a much-needed nap, I got a text from my friend L who had visited last weekend, saying that she'd broken up with her boyfriend of six months--this after she'd just been through a divorce. I immediately called her, and my heart broke as she cried. All of the feelings, the confusion, the sense of "there's something wrong with me"--I got it. She didn't need to explain it. I was there with her. And I realized then how that is an internal battle we all face when the rug is yanked out from under us, and we are left with thousands of unanswered questions. 

I want to hold my friend close, to tell her in person that she is the most amazing woman I've ever met and that she deserves someone who will not leave at the first sign of difficulty. And I want it even more because I remember wanting her to be there with me when my inner critic was torturing me like that with self-doubt and self-hatred, so much so that I couldn't muster up the strength to tell it to shut up. 

I want her to know how brave she is to have trusted someone again, to have opened herself up after all of the hurt she's endured. That she is anything but a loser, despite her feeling that way right now. I want to cook for her and do her laundry, be with her as she cries and as she laughs again. More than anything, I want her to know that she will be alright. She will heal over someday.

And so will 

Missed Connections

No, I'm not talking about the creepy Craiglist kind. I'm talking about those of you who read the blog, comment, and then I forget to follow your blog (if you have one). If I haven't commented on your blog yet, can you comment on this post and put in a link? I'd love to read what you're doing. For serious.

And, I'm also on Twitter and trying to get more followers (and more awesome people to follow.) So, if you tweet, please follow me at twitter.com/dancingthruDC and I promise to follow you back and attempt to be witty in 140-characters.

Preparing for a weekend at the beach, despite the hurricane heading this way. Hell, I grew up on a damn island, so I know all about this hurricane shit. BRING IT ON, YOU BASTARD! It will not interfere with my eating, drinking, and other merriment.

Blogger Meet Up: First "Date" with Date me, D.C.!

I don't know about you, but meeting a friend for the first time is pretty much just as scary as a first date. So, when Katie over at Date me, D.C.! (perhaps the funniest/most terrifying blog of all time) invited me to sneak into a friend's pool yesterday afternoon, I was nervous, excited, and feeling slightly insecure. Would Katie like me? Think I'm cool? What if it's awkward and she doesn't want to see me again? This was my first blog meet-up, and I wanted it to go well.

Now this first date had taken a good while to plan. Katie and I live a mere four blocks from each other (some coincidence, huh?) and she's invited me to several things, including my all-time favorite activity, karaoke. Each time I've had something else going on, and I felt bad that I could never hang out. So when I had no plans yesterday, I jumped at the chance to meet up. It was the perfect day to lounge by the pool, even if it did require cajoling our way into the mega-secured apartment building (nothing like the one SCL and I shared where they'd let anyone who showed up into the building). Katie told me she had a "pool pass" which ended up being a quite useless piece of neon-green colored paper that no one checked when what we really needed was a damn key card.

But, the afternoon was fantastic! As it turns out, Katie is even more awesome than she seems in her blog---totally sassy, hilarious, and fun. Why some amazing guy hasn't scooped her up yet is beyond me because she is fucking fabulous. She also has a fantastic group of friends who are equally fun and funny, and I hope to hang out with them again some time.

I hope this is the first of many dates, and hopefully none of them are bad enough to end up on her blog. And if you haven't read her blog yet, get your ass over there asap!

Extrovert, Meet Introvert

I had not one but two birthday celebrations this past week. I know that sounds excessive, but the second was a joint bash with my best friend from college. He'd hired a cover band to play at one of his favorite bars, and since his birthday is the day after mine, he invited me to come and bring my friends. So I doubled up the evite guest list and came ready to party.

Remember the needy girl I described who is lacking in the social skills area? Before our party was to begin, I get a call from her. Not only is she already at the party venue, but she has come straight from the airport and has her large suitcase in tow. At a bar. On a Friday night. Meanwhile I'm in the middle of having dinner with my friend. Ay yay yay. Anyway, it all ended up being fine but not exactly the fun beginning to the evening I was looking for.

Once I had a few drinks (mostly purchased by my awesome friends!) and the band started playing, I was getting into the party spirit and dancing like a crazy person. SCL, on the other hand, was not. This is not surprising. SCL is an uber introvert and prefers playing trivia in a small group than standing in the middle of a crowded bar. I can't really blame him--in fact, if it hadn't been my birthday, I probably would've felt similarly. My birthday buddy's group of friends is a bit on the douchey side, and for the first part of the night they dominated the crowd.

At around midnight, SCL said he wanted to go home. A few months ago this would've bothered me a lot. I used to think we needed to come and go together to things like this, and I may have thought, "Ok, then I'll go home, too." But this was my party, and a lot of my friends were still there. I didn't want to go home! SCL said he'd wait up for me, so I kissed him good-bye and went on dancing without him.

When I got home, he was, in true SCL form, watching Star Trek. Classic. We both sat down with a hunk of that delicious chocolate birthday cake and stayed up into the wee hours of the morning. I'm seeing that I don't need SCL by my side all the time to have fun. In fact, there are times when it's more fun to be by myself. And I'm also learning that just because SCL doesn't dance like a crazy person, that doesn't mean he wasn't having a good time. So, he and I are different. A lot different. But at the end of the night, he's the one I want to have cake with.

Super Comments Award

Many thanks to DC Dating Divas for this "Super Comments" Award they gave me over the long-weekend. A nice thing to start off this week!

And now to share the love with some of my fellow bloggers:

• Krysten at After 'I Do'
• Nicole at Casa de Nicole (Or is it You Had Me at Hello?)
• Katie at Date Me, DC!
• Cee at Curiosity

I'm really starting to feel like a real blogger! Thanks to everyone who's reading along patiently as I muddle through this crazy situation.

Also, something to think about: what should I call this blog now? Would removing the "ex" be like jinxing it? Change it to something else? When?

Here's to an Entire Day of Not Acting Like a Psycho!

Yesterday was a huge accomplishment for me. I went through the entire day without making a single comment about our "relationship" or whatever it is the fuck SCL and I doing! This is a first for me. Yes, I do over-analyze things. Yes, I do agonize over things. Yes, I do worry about things constantly. This is a trait I adopted from my beloved mother. I am trying to work on it.

So, I wrote yesterday's post from the airport just a few minutes before learning that my flight would be delayed, I would miss my connection, and the next connecting flight to Springfield, IL wouldn't be until 6:30 that evening. Great, just great. They might as well tell me that the next flight wasn't until November. I'd been up since the ass-crack of dawn to get to the airport, and now hours later I had to turn around and head home. At least it was a beautiful day and I actually got to enjoy most of it.

SCL had plans for the evening, but I though it'd be nice to go on a walk. I wanted him to show me the place he's seriously considering living for the next year. It's very nice and close to where we live now. And I genuinely was happy for him. I can tell that this is going to be good for him, and hopefully us, too.

I'm still really trying to get to know him again, so I've started asking him random questions about his life that don't have anything to do with our relationship. I had no idea that he wanted to be an astronaut when he was a little kid or that he was attempting to sight-read better on the piano. We had a relaxed conversation, the kind I wish we'd had more of in the past. There are so many things I wish I could take back, but all I can do is try to do is move forward. I also told him I'd like to listen to Ben Folds because he's so into his music even though I'm not sure I understand why. Rebuilding our friendship is important to me. I guess I'd gotten so caught up in the relationship and our future that I probably neglected the friendship that we have.

Later that evening I was having a chili cheeseburger at the infamous Ben's Chili Bowl (though I couldn't tell you why it's so famous honestly) with a guy friend that I suspect has a crush on me. I told him SCL had plans to go out salsa dancing, which is entirely uncharacteristic of him but probably another attempt for him to reinvent himself. I'm all for it. Guy friend says, "Let's show up and I'll flirt with you and make him jealous!" I think he was actually semi-serious about this. Um, no thanks. Last thing I want to be is a psycho.

I'm still uncertain as to where things are going, but for now I'm trying not to focus on it too much. I have no idea what our therapy session tomorrow will be like, but I'm hoping for the best. I think what I'm realizing is that I want SCL to be my friend for a long time. He makes me laugh like no one else can (and he's honestly not even very funny in general), and we do share a connection that is worth fighting for. I hope he sees that, too.

Sassy New Single Life: Kickball Edition

I mentioned in my first Sassy New Single Life post that one of my best friends signed me up for a kickball team. This was something I'd wanted to do since I moved here but never did. Part of that was my own laziness, but the other part was that SCL didn't really want to play. I thought it would've been something fun for us to do together, so when he didn't want to, I just never signed up. Bummer, huh?

Yesterday was the opening of the NAKID (No, Adult Kickball Isn't Dumb) games. At first I didn't really want to go because I was exhausted from the weekend. But I'm really glad that I did because it was so much fun. I was a little apprehensive about it. I had flashbacks to elementary school and thinking it was going to be all the cool kids on the team, and I'd be off on the sidelines, ostracized as both the new kid AND the nerd. So not true. My team was awesome, and I fit right in.

Now the real games started at the bar afterward. Again, I was a little nervous about it. Flip cup? Beer pong? I hadn't played those since college. But kind of like riding a bike, those flips of the cup and throws of the ping pong ball came right back to me. It was a blast and by the fourth or so round of flip cup, I was getting it on the first try. I didn't even know that I enjoyed silliness like that anymore!

Kickball was also my first opportunity to flirt and be flirted with. I'd forgotten that I was cute and fun, and it was really flattering to know that there will be other guys out there who are attracted to me. Now, I don't think kickball is exactly where I want to meet my next boyfriend, but for now, it's definitely a good ego boost to have boys pay attention to me.

Next time though, I think I may keep better track of how many beers I have...

Try Sleeping with a Broken Heart

I've talked about how one of the hardest parts of this break-up has been when I'm expecting to be distracted and I'm not. I talked mainly about work situations, but now it's creeping into friend time, too. I'm in Atlanta this week visiting my best friend whom I've known since sixth grace (picture matching baby-doll dresses and sunflower hats ala Clueless). She's going through a divorce, and she's starting to figure out her new life. I hate that it's happening to her--and that I'm going through this break-up--but thank God for a friend who really gets it.

The difference, though, is that she sees where things went wrong, and I really don't. I'm still so confused about all of it. We're not angry at each other. We don't hate each other. We didn't cheat, steal, or lie. How did things fall apart? When?

My friend was having computer troubles, and after many different tries, I couldn't get it to work, so I left SCL a message to see if he had any ideas. Now, this was only the second time I've contacted him since the break-up. I wouldn't have done it had my friend not been really desperate to fix it without having to spend oodles of money at Geek Squad who probably wouldn't have helped her anyway (and SCL has made me so anti-Geek Squad or anything of the like that I couldn't stand the idea of her going there.)

When he called back, I told him that I'd figured it out but thanks for calling. We chatted for a few minutes. It felt fine, normal. I hung up feeling fine. Later that afternoon, after doing some online apartment hunting for my friend, I felt exhausted, mopey, and needed some space. So I listened to some Alicia Keys (hence the title of this blog) and rested. But I couldn't get thoughts of our broken relationship out of my head: what happened between us? What went wrong?

After sharing a French-like dinner with my friend and watching the Sex and the City movie, I was exhausted and decided to go to bed, but not without first checking my email and facebook. I should've known better, but I logged into chat and saw SCL's name there. I don't know if it was the sparkling wine we'd had or what, but I sent him a message saying "good night." He wrote back "good night." Then I felt all of the emotion, the hurt, the pain rise up in me. I wanted to tell him everything, I wanted him to tell me everything, I wanted to be us again.

I resisted for the most part. I did say that it was hard not to say more and that I missed him. And he replied "I'm sorry." Not "I miss you, too." Not "This is hard for me, too." Just "I'm sorry." What are you sorry for? Sorry that I'm not over this? Sorry that you've put me through this? Sorry that you did this to me? What does "I'm sorry" mean?

Before it went any further, I shut my laptop, curled up in bed, and cried for an hour at least. I sobbed. The pain felt as raw and deep as it did nearly three weeks ago. Now that the shock has worn off, the hurt is really setting in, and I'm having more difficulty remembering that pain is normal, pain isn't crisis. That all sounds like bullshit to me right now. It's easy to say that in the first few days, but as the weeks go by and it's still hurting so much, I wonder if this is normal and if I'm ever going to get over it.

Part of me still wants my old life back, and that part of me of hates SCL for taking it from me.

Do-Over Please: Encounter with Former College Roommate aka "Little Miss Perfect"

Last night there was a big alumni event for my college with about 300 people in attendance. A few months ago I'd gotten tickets for SCL and I to go, and I was really looking forward to it. It's always fun to show off the beautiful boyfriend to friends you haven't seen in awhile. But of course, things never work out the way I think they will.

Our alumni office is brilliant for many reasons, one of which is that when people register to attend an alumni event, they publish the names on an online attendee list. Back in February I was scanning the list and was shocked, horrified, and somewhat thrilled to see my freshman and sophomore year roommate's name on the list.

Let me give you a little background on this woman. She's a fucking blonde bombshell with huge (real) boobs, an hourglass figure, and perfect teeth. Do you all hate her already? She and I were actually good friends for the first year of our living together until she met her boyfriend, a senior hunky baseball player (now her husband), at a jungle-themed frat party and decided he'd be our third roommate. How fun for me, right? Things deteriorated, and we rarely spent time together after we both studied abroad in Florence our junior year. Despite this fact, I thought that after all the crap I put up with those two, I should have at least been invited to their grandiose wedding the summer after we graduated. Seriously, it was the least they could do after a year and a half of Three's Company in our tiny dorm room. I wasn't invited, and even though we weren't really friends anymore, I felt totally dissed and my feelings were hurt.

So a few weeks ago when I saw that she was coming to this event, I thought, "This is a great time to see her. I've really got my shit together now. I've got my ivy league degree, my awesome consultant job, and my beautiful boyfriend." I don't know why I even care about her--or that I thought she would give a rat's ass about what I was doing now. But for some reason she serves as a source of self-doubt and lack of confidence for me even to this day. I think it's because she at least has the appearance of having her life together. She married the first man she slept with, has a flawless face and figure, has lots of money, a wonderful family, and a great job as a lobbyist. Even in college, when the rest of us were packing on the pounds from pizza and beer, she maintained her svelte figure by eating broccoli in the cafeteria and doing leg lifts before going to bed. (She had seriously disordered eating, and I was one of the few people she told about it.) The college boys drooled over her and pursued her. Our first week we had a mixer with a guys' freshman hall, and one of them, whose father owned part of a professional baseball team, hired a magician for her because it was her birthday and hoped to woo her. Meanwhile I was crushing on a dorky sophomore who after I confessed I liked him told me "I'm not ready for a relationship right now" and then two weeks later started dating my friend. Seriously, FML.

Yesterday before I had to leave to go to the event, I was crying. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to see her and her fucking perfect self. But I put myself together as best I could, struggling over the perfect outside to impress her with, and went. I ran into her on the way in. She gave me a big hug. And y'all, she looked EXACTLY the same (except for a few deep wrinkles around her eyes which secretly gave me great joy. Should've stayed away from those tanning beds, babe!). "How's DC?" she asked. I told her all about my new job and how fab it is to work from home, trying to play up how great life is. "Where are you living?" I told her and then she asked, "By yourself?"

Now let's just stop here. Why in the HELL couldn't I have just said "Yes, by myself"? Because I'm a big doof, that's way. Instead of using that filter of mine that usually accompanies me in social settings, I say, "Well, I used to live with my boyfriend, but we just broke up." "Oh, I'm so sorry, " she said. And I think she really was. But I felt like an idiot. Why would I tell someone I'm not even friends with about the biggest pain of my life right now? I don't know why I did it. I felt like an idiot afterward. We chatted for a few minutes and said "see you inside", but we never said good-bye to each other. She, not surprisingly, didn't stay for the whole thing. I'm sure she had some fucking fantastic gala or other A-list event to get to. Secretly, I was relieved not to have to interact with her again.

This morning I'm still thinking about it, still beating myself up over it. Why did I have to open my mouth? Because I'm human, that's why. Because I'm not perfect. Because right now I'm an emotional mess and hurting. And even though I see her as perfect, I know that she's just a person like me. She might be better at concealing her humanness, but that doesn't change the fact that she is still a human being. And what I do know about her is that in order to maintain that image of perfection, she never takes risks. I remember how she used to back out of things, not put herself in a situation where she might fail. She did what was easy, comfortable, and least embarrassing, and frankly, that's not the kind of life I want to live.

I'm not blonde. I don't have big boobs or blue eyes. I don't have the perfect man by my side. But I take risks. I put myself out there all the time, and I get hurt. I'm hurting like hell right now. But I know that I am really living my life, not standing by as opportunities go by, too scared to take chance. And deep down I know that I'm pretty awesome all on my own.

Sassy New Single Life

Most--ok, all--of my posts over the last two weeks have been about the break-up. I figure this is probably to be expected, but that you'll probably all start losing interest in my emotional drama as it relates to SCL. And I'll probably get tired of writing about it. I'm not saying I'm going to shut up about it completely (it's currently my muse; I have so much to say!), but I will try to balance it with my new life as a sassy single girl. So, here's a run down of what good things are happening in this single woman's life.

This break-up has been great for my waistline. Like a lot of women in relationships, I started packing on the pounds when SCL and I got together. The eating out, making lots of pizza, and our collective sweet teeth really did a number on my body. It didn't help that he hated working out and didn't really like exercising with me. Like a lot of other things, I let my health slide. But now that I'm in need of every pick-me-up I can get, including endorphins, I find myself in the gym everyday and really enjoying it for the most part. My real focus is no to lose weight (though that's a nice side effect), but because it feels so damn good. I'd forgotten. And I've lost about five pounds in the process. Not too shabby.

I'm doing the things that feel like me. In addition to eating better and working out, I'm reading a lot of fun books (never read Bridget Jones's Diary before; I know!), spending more time having drinks with friends, going back to church, and generally being my normal social self. I'd let myself get confined to the routine of hanging out with SCL in the evenings and on the weekends. Now I have all of this time, and many more things I want to do with it.

I'm reconnecting with my spiritual side. Although SCL and I met in divinity school, he's not a religious person, and he wasn't too enthusiastic about going to church. But I am a deeply spiritual person and view the world through a theological lens most of the time. I'd been missing that part of me, especially living in DC where I am constantly having to adapt to speaking politics instead of religion. Now that I'm going to church and getting to know people there, I feel more at home and more like myself. My prayer every morning: "Grace to get me through the day."

I'm having a good ass time. I thought that becoming more predictable was just part of growing up, but I realize that it was just that I'd become kind of a boring person. SCL and I had good times together, but excitement was not a big part of our relationship. We fell into a rut and ended up spending a lot of Friday nights eating homemade pizza, drinking wine, and watching a movie. Nothing wrong with that except that I need to go out, dance, and see other human beings sometimes. Now there's nothing holding me back! I've been out with friends late at night, I've been trying new restaurants, biking to new places, catching up with old college friends, got signed up for kickball. I'm cutting down on the stuffy networking events and upping my fun intake for the time being. Time to live it up.

Here's the truth: While I'm sad about the loss of my relationship, I'm not unhappy. I thought I would be miserable for months and months, and instead I often feel liberated, alive, and more like myself. Maybe this will end up being the best thing for me.

Life/God/Universe, you are a funny, funny thing.

Did I even cry yesterday?

When I crawled into bed last night and sprawled out as much as I could, trying to enjoy having the whole thing to myself, I honestly couldn't remember--did I even cry today? I felt a little triumphant. Only a week since the break-up and already a day of no tears? Then I remembered. Yes, yes I did cry. It's embarrassing, too.

I'd decided earlier this week that no matter what, I was going to get up to go to church on Palm Sunday. SCL and I had visited a wonderful church (inclusive, LGBT-friendly, justice-focused) back in the fall, but because he wasn't really into going to church, I hadn't gone back. I just never wanted to go alone, and I felt bad dragging him along, knowing he really didn't want to go. But this week I figured out that being part of a faith community was one of the parts of me I had just given up without thinking about it much, and it was making me unhappy not to have that in my life. So, yesterday morning I was up and at 'em, preparing to make the somewhat complicated journey to the church.

I had just gotten out of the shower, and I was ironing my clothes. I'd turned on the TV and America's Next Top Model was on. It was the finale of an early season--maybe 3? I don't know; I'd seen it about a million times. But when Tyra announced America's next top model and both of the women burst into tears, so did I. I cried during America's Next Top Model. Is there anything more embarrassing than that when you're not a) PMSing or b) pregnant?

Maybe it wasn't just the emotionality of the show that made me cry. Maybe I was just looking for a reason to cry. That's more likely as I'd like to give myself more credit than thinking I could really be emotionally manipulated by Tyra Banks. I cried as I ironed, then got myself together and went to the Metro.

Going to church alone was hard as hell. I almost didn't go, but as is true with most things of late, I was so glad I did. The sermon was on regret, and the minister talked about her divorce. She shared how she had non-serious thoughts of keying her ex's truck, but how ultimately it was that inner voice that reminded her she would look back on this with regret if she did it. This really resonated with me, especially my desire not to act like a fool during this process. Truth be told I'm not angry with SCL. But I know I'd be angry with myself if I treated him badly, even though he broke my heart. Hurting him won't unbreak my heart, as Toni Braxton would say.

But better than the good sermon was the good community. The one person I knew there introduced me to the young people in the congregation. They invited me out to lunch, and immediately I felt at home. They could speak theological language! I had no idea how much I have been missing that. I think this'll be another place for me to find community as I move through the process and when I'm past it. I'm really glad that I worked up enough courage to go to church alone, not just because it's an awesome congregation but because I'm learning to take care of myself and do the things that are important to me.

Go me. And maybe today if I do cry, it'll be at something less cheesy than ANTM.