Meeting his parents

I had the best experience meeting Jay's parents.

I arrived late Friday night with the intention of leaving Saturday night so that his parents could stay with him. But after dinner together on Saturday night, they insisted that I stay overnight with Jay while they get a hotel room. They thought it was too late to drive the 2.5 hour trip and did not want to disrupt our weekend together. They called me "family" while we were together and emphasized safety.

Jay's parents also treated me like family throughout. Momma Jay offered me a small bottle of face cream that she has used her entire life. She also offered me an orange from their ranch, peanut cakes, and the most delicious chorizo from their hometown. Papa Jay paid for all of our meals together, and throughout the weekend, they loved Mr. Z., and we had the best conversations about pets, cooking, recipes, family experiences. We laughed a lot. They later told Jay to bring me home so that I could experience their hometown. I had been feeling homesick throughout this week and being with Jay's family was perfect! I adore being with both parents and also his his younger brother. It felt so... harmonious. Yes, that's the word.

We spent the better half of Sunday lounging. We parked ourselves in front of Jay's brother's TV, watching movies, eating ice cream, and chatting in-between. Every now and then his mom would disappear into his bedroom to take a nap. Meanwhile, Jay and I dozed on-and-off, waking up intermittently to eat snacks and play with the dog. The entire weekend was unexpectedly comfortable and so much fun. I couldn't have wished for a better experience! I even told Jay on Sunday night that I might adore his parents more than him.

P.S. In addition to all that family time together, Jay and I had a lot of sex this weekend. Morning, night, in bed, on the sofa, on the exercise ball...  it seriously doesn't get better than this and I am now going to have a difficult time returning back to reality.

Being taken care of

I celebrated an entire day of festivities with my friends and Jay yesterday.  I've never partied with a boyfriend before. In fact, it's amazing not to date an alcoholic (ahem, B.). There was no need to worry about anyone engaging in self-destructive or other-destructive behaviors. In fact, I was able to let-down my guard to have a good time. I even let myself get a little tipsy and allowed him to take care of me!

Jay took care of me in so many ways that I felt warm and fuzzy:

1. He let me wear his raincoat all day even though he must have been cold in his measly little windbreaker in almost-freezing temperature.
2. He zipped me in-and-out of his raincoat whenever the temperature changed.
3. We shared drinks and he held hold our beverage the whole time because my hands were cold and he was wearing gloves.
4. He let me run around, jump up & down-- all the while watching from behind and being a secure base for me to return toward.
5. He also got some great throws from the celebration and gave me all his goodies!
6. Towards the end of the night, when we progressively drank more, he held onto me to make sure I wouldn't fall.
7. He drove in from one hour away to party with us; and then drove home almost 18 hours later by his lonesome.
8. He paid for dinner, as he always does.

It was so hard to say goodbye to Jay at the end of the night-- especially knowing he would be driving alone for the next hour while I had my group of friends for company. When we drove to drop him off at his car, I leaned over, kissed him, and told him those 3 little words again. He responded with "I love you too" before planting a kiss on my lips and then thanking my pals for the drop-off. When he climbed out of the car, I figured he'd give one final wave to me before walking off.  Instead, he leaned in for a goodbye kiss, after which he returned to say: "just one more kiss" before his lips claimed mine again. My heart fluttered and melted at the same time, and I metaphorically felt like putty in his hands.

As we headed back home, I fell asleep throughout the 1.5 hour drive back, feeling enveloped in love, affection, and being taken care of. I was so content, warm, and fuzzy, and I thought to myself, "I have the best boyfriend in the entire world." I can't believe I'll be meeting his parents this upcoming weekend and I'm so excited to see where he came from and the people who made him so special!

If love is like a drug...

If love is like a drug, then spending the weekend with Jay is like getting my fix.  Once I get my dose, then it's no more anxiety, no more insecurity, no more fear.  Once I'm with him, my heart is at peace. My body is relaxed. I even find myself sleeping better, which is strange because I have never slept well with anybody in the past.

This past weekend with Jay re-charged me so that I feel only contentment and stability.

Friday night, I arrived late and we got to spend some time hugging and kissing before we ran some errands for Saturday's party. I was exhausted and it was so great to go to bed together.

Early Saturday morning, we woke up so he could make his infamous pico de gallo while I showered and got dressed for the party. We spent the next 12 hours partying with his friends: drinking, eating, laughing, dancing... I basically met all of his friends and he later told me they all liked me! One of the other girls also told me in-secret that Jay must really like me. At the beginning when we first started dating, he would reveal nothing to them, other than "her name is Sher." They doubted my existence until I met them at another event a few months ago, and had thought "wow, she's pretty too!"  (NOTE: This is the best compliment I've ever gotten-- ever!). Jay's friend added that he talks about me all the time these days and is never in town because he is driving to see me. She asked if I would occasionally drive to them so we can hang out, and she joked that Jay should share my contact information so they can contact me to do fun things together. Granted, she was in a drunken haze while she was speaking, but it was still so flattering and so exciting that she kept saying how cool I am, and how much she wants Jay to bring me around more.

While we were celebrating on Saturday, I learned a lot about Jay. He fell from a porch in the middle of the celebration and rolled onto the grass before jumping back on his feet and climbing back onto the porch pole. It was such a slow-motion fall, and his return was so fast that people didn't have time to react (Jay often gets hurt so he's mastered the art of falling, and even during his fall, I felt only helplessness and also a bit of awe). It was the first time I've seen Jay so proud. I've always thought he was less focused on ego, but his fall showed me exactly where his sense of self-concept is. When people rushed over to see how he was doing, he held his hand up as to say, "back off NOW" and very quickly returned to his original position back onto the porch. While subtle, it was his pride saying, pay no attention here!-- and he was loud and clear. His silence was intimidating and my maternal instincts had to jump back so that all I said was: "are you OK?" and then backing off completely. I later told Jay about my perception of him, to which he repeated: "yup, that's why I think you totally get me."

After an entire day of festivities, Jay and I also ended up making love-- and I say that phrase specifically because I actually said the 3 little words in the middle of that activity.  I'm quite embarrassed by it because I've always thought that saying such intimate words during the act was somewhat lame.  But I did it, and it came out impulsively, assertively, and without apology. In the middle of our lovemaking, I had grabbed his face and said, "honey, I love you" without worrying about his reaction; and just as quickly as those words came out, he replied, "I love you too."  It was lovemaking, and it was just me and him in the world. Afterwards, we slept for about 11 hours because we were so exhausted!

On Sunday, we spent the day lounging at home, eating omelets he made, watching tv shows we liked, and then having dinner with his brother and brother's girlfriend. I left later at night and continued to feel secure, probably because I know when I'll see him next and because he has invited me to meet his parents! The plan for this upcoming week is this:

• Tomorrow, I'm seeing Jay because the celebrations reign on and we are meeting mid-way so that he can celebrate with me and my friends this time around. 
• I'm also driving down this weekend to see Jay because his mom and dad are coming and he would like me to meet them!

I'm exhausted, excited, and relieved all at the same time. I'm so tired that I slept 9.5 hours after driving home last night; and even then, I still feel utterly drained. The sheer exhaustion must be due to the accumulation of last week's anxiety and the week before. 

2 year hiatus

Hello.

It's been almost 2 years since I last visited this blog, much less write in it.  I thought I had moved on and was too good for it. So, I actively ignore it despite the many times I would have benefitted from having this space for myself.

Last year, I moved to a big city for a year-long internship, where I experienced an entire year of diversity, night life, excitement, and constant stimulation. I imagined a life of active dating, romance, and I was certain, I was absolutely certain that I would be meeting the love of my life and living happily ever after. 

Boy, was I wrong.

I was miserable last year, yet I did not write in this journal or any other journal. I refused. I stubbornly believed that writing it meant accepting it, and I did not want to admit how disappointing, nay, how devastating the year turned out to be. I had been so positive that I would be done with heartache, sadness, and pain. I wanted nothing more than to move on from this blog and its topic. I needed to believe I had a healthier self and self-in-relationships.

Well, I partially succeeded because I put myself out there and dated a whole lot.
But I was also miserable almost all of the time.

Last year = roller coaster year of emotions. Partly, it was my unreal expectations. The other part was that the men I dated did not believe in anything other than immediate gratification.  Put those 2 together and it was instant heartache for me. INSTANT. CONSTANT. REPETITIVE.

The trouble with every one of those relationships was that I was leaving their city, and I had to believe I would meet the one who would change my life forever.  My one-year internship was just that: one year. I knew I would likely leave and re-locate elsewhere. I just didn't know how quickly the offer would come, and whether I would take it. When I received an offer to work in a community that is rural, less progressive, less exciting, and less desirable-- I was tortured. Love life or career life? Stay and pursue the unknown by following my heart or following what is reasonable, logical, realistic, and necessary for both financial survival as well as my own career plan. I secretly hoped I'd meet my knight in shining armor and he would tell me what to do. I wanted him to say stay! Because the truth is, I would have. If someone had asked me.

No one asked me. So, I wrote pros/cons lists. I consulted with friends, colleagues, mentors, teachers, advisers, therapists, and even fortune-tellers. I cried. A lot. I contemplated not making any decision altogether. In fact, I spent a lot of time under the comforter pretending reality did not exist. In the end, I decided to leave and take my current position. Goodbye city, hello village (OK, I exaggerate-- ruralville, not village). Still, it was one of the most challenging decisions of my life, and yet I knew that I had to pursue what is realistic and within my control.  My career is dependable and I understand it far more than any relationship or love life.

Well, once I knew I was leaving, the dating experience-- which was just starting-- began to plummet and spiral for the remainder of the year. Dating became anxiety-provoking. On date 1 or at least 2, I would have to tell them the truth. My personality called for this kind of openness and also the men I dated often wanted to know my future plans. Hearing the word "internship" naturally led them to question: what are you doing afterwards?  And upon hearing my news that I would be leaving, the blood would literally drain out of their faces while they tried to compose themselves to act polite, accepting, and open to the possibility of continuing to date me. No one wanted to date me after that, but still, I held on, clinging to the hope that one of them could be mr. right.

One guy strung me along all 7 months that we knew each other and broke my heart in small increments over his hot-and-cold attitude. Another guy insisted I was the love of his life and yet his behaviors never matched his words (e.g., inconsistent texts, last-minute cancelled dates, no time to see me-- ever). The last guy was a was so kind and warm that I mistook him for a friend. I (or we) missed the timing to be something more and when I eventually realized my feelings and poured my heart out to him, he no longer had those feelings for me and said we missed the boat.

Tears. I cried so many tears last year over 3 specific boys. In a city as large as the one I was in, I never felt as lonely as I did, or as insignificant to so many people.





And now? Having moved to this small rural community where I constantly feel an absence of diversity, city life, or anything remotely cool, I have met and am dating an amazing guy who makes my heart soar. (More on him, later, I promise!)

Isn't it ironic that when I moved here a few months ago, I had decided to give up on pursuing a love life, much being in one?

With my 2 year hiatus behind me, I am now wise enough to return to this blog to face myself honestly and admit that I was at my lowest point last year. I am finally willing to confront how last year was. I am now able to reflect on how painful that year was, and to want to learn from those experiences.

Despite the fear that arises from deep in my stomach, I'd also like to be honest about my current relationship and to sit with the anxieties that erupt out of me. This relationship is the healthiest relationship I have ever been in. It is so good that I am terrified. My stomach flips when I use the word "relationship" because prior experiences suggest that it will only go downhill.  Because of these instinctual reactions, I know that it's time to return to writing-- for me, for the collective us that feel these pains, for whoever can benefit from my inner angst. Whatever happens in these relationships-- good or bad, I challenge myself to myself to write again and to accept vulnerability again.

Welcome back, me.  It's time to dig deep again.

He's just not that into you

I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but my favorite-movie-of-all-time is: He's just not that into you.

I love love love this movie and have watched it so many times with so many different reactions and emotions each and every time.  Some people may find it funny that such an insulting (title) movie can be a favorite. But I actually find the message and title to be absolutely empowering because it is the exact reminder that I need to move forward with my life without putting the blame entirely on myself.

When someone is not into me, it's not me, it's them! 


It's their decision not to like me! 

It is liberating to know that there's nothing I can/should do to change someone's decision not to love me. I know this now having learned hard way. When someone doesn't like me, I need to accept that I am not the exception in their story line, I am the norm. I am the 99% and not the 1% that they want to grow old with, start a life with, commit love to, and make compromises with.  No amount of hard work will change things so that I am the 1% (even though I always think that if I work hard enough, I can make myself the 1%). In the past, I've operated under the assumption that I can and will change myself in the hopes that they will grow to like me. But I now know that it's not a sign of failure, or not being good enough if I am the 99% rather than the exception. Instead of working sooo hard in a unsuccessful relationship, I can move forward and hopefully find someone who will adore me instead. I don't have to take responsibility for them not liking me. I don't have to work so damn hard for a love that will never come.

When my mom came this week, I made her watch the movie before she fell asleep 15 minutes into it.  She didn't really like the movie and was quite annoyed that women were portrayed to be so desperate and men-crazy. It's not her cup of tea, but that's OK.

She hasn't gone through what I've gone through (and I'm happy for her!) to appreciate the pangs of hopeless optimism and rejection. But I get it, and this movie rings true to me more than I would like it to!

Soul mates

I don't know if I believe in the idea of soul mates, anymore.

But I do like this quote, and I wonder where I can get me one of these...

Question:
Do soul mates always have to be romantic? Can they come in the form of friends? Families? Acquaintances that we meet at a particular moment in time but contribute to our lives significantly?

Time with mom

My mom came to visit this week and our time together flew by.

It's like she disappeared into the night or something-- I can't believe she came and went already.

This week, I completely detached myself from work, school, emails, responsibilities, and spent quality time with my mom. We had 4 days together, in total, and most of it was spent shopping, trying on clothes (often in my closet), laughing, eating, and talking. I enjoyed every single second of it, even though there were times when I was annoyed that she kept trying to (over)feed me.

My mom is my best friend and has always been-- since I was a kid.  I can do anything, be anything, and say anything around her. I can simply be, and I had forgotten how comforting it was to be able to feel at ease with someone else around me.

Before mom came, I had been a bit anxious about entertaining her.  But once she got here, that wasn't a problem whatsoever. Mom took care of me, instead. She bought me all sorts of things: groceries, to begin with! clothes! And she also got me a ton of cooking appliances that I've been secretly wanting and saving up for so that I can buy it for myself one day. My mom got me a juicer, a crockpot, and she also got me a scale.  I've been window-shopping for a scale for the past 6 months, actually, and it took mom being here for me to finally commit to one. Ha!

My best time with my mom was every single second, literally.  I loved cooking with her, eating with her, sitting in the car with her, and talking to her before we fell asleep at night. I miss my mom!

I mean, I really miss my mom! After waving her off at the airport, I walked back to the car, sat down, and burst into tears realizing how lonely I am, now that I have experienced a week of feeling immensely loved and accepted for who I am.

Moms are so special, and for me, she is truly irreplaceable. She is the person that tells me to stay being true to myself, and to encourage me and remind me of my strengths amidst my imperfections.  Basically, she tells me this (and who doesn't need someone to tell us that?):

Re-creating closure

I've been feeling crazy lonely these days, which is strange because up until recently, I was enjoying my alone-ness and feeling empowered about being happily alone.

The more lonely I've been feeling, the more vulnerable I've felt.  And the more vulnerable I am, the more I've resorted to thinking about Robert.  Which makes me wonder... which came first: the chicken or the egg?

For me, does vulnerability come first and then my thoughts about breakups? Or do I think about breakups first and then feel vulnerable afterwards?

I spent the past few nights crying about Robert.  Why? No reason. No reason, whatsoever.

It all started when my mom brought up Robert in our phone conversation the other day. She casually mentioned that we were actually quite similar and that she is just as perplexed about him as I am. I was shell-shocked because for so many years, she's always said we were ridiculously opposites of one another and it could have never ever worked.

As she talked, I started to get emotional, wondering about all the should haves, would haves, could haves.  I cried and cried when I went to bed that night, feeling haunted by our relationship, and feeling broken-hearted about how we ended.  At the very least, why aren't we friends? At the very least, why couldn't be at least amiable to each other?

For 3 nights in-a-row, I cried and cried about Robert and had imaginary conversations with him about our breakup. I imagined shaking him and asking the Robert I used to know to come back so that I can have just one more conversation with him.  I remember when I saw Robert a few years ago, I couldn't connect with him and starting into his eyes was like looking into the eyes of a stranger.  It was heartbreaking, as if a different soul possessed his body altogether.

I just need to say goodbye to him.  That's what I need.  Because Robert and I ended so strangely, so abruptly, I think I have no closure from him, no matter how hard I have tried to create it by myself. So I laid in bed the other night telling him goodbye and telling him that he was so meaningful in my life, and  that he continues to play such an important part in my sense of identity and my feelings of self-worth as a person. I cried as though we were just breaking up and I fell asleep surrounded by kleenexes, kleenexes, and more kleenexes.

In the light of day, however, I couldn't understand why I had been so devastated the night before. What happened? What happens to me at night?

Love, happiness, marriage

My girlfriends and I write to each other on a random basis. When things come up in our lives, we email and we ask about each others' perspectives.

This week, my elementary school best friends emailed to discuss the topic of marriage.  One of the girls has been struggling with dating and meeting guys that are a good fit for her.  She hasn't had many long-term relationships because it's been hard to "click" with someone beyond a couple of dates. As she talked about these challenges, she referred to facebook and seeing all these engagements and wedding posts and feeling bitter.  Why are other people getting married but not us? she asked.  How are people getting "that" when she feels so far away and so far behind from what they've got?

In response to her email, I wrote a long piece about my own thoughts regarding marriage. About love. About hope.  I also write about my life journeys being bitch-slapped by reality and instead of floating happily in love and/or marriage.

"... For me, I have equated marriage to all things magical.  Marriage means love. It means floating on cloud 9 and being happy all the time (I've learned that it's not). It means stability, it means unconditional give and take. It means meeting your other half and establishing a life together. It means commitment, perseverance, compromise, sometimes sacrifice, and ultimately, it means making an active choice to be with each other. It means open communication, respect for each other's values & decision-making, and it means loving (or trying to love) what's different than what you know.

Marriage is the "happily ever after" in my book, and it's what I've always imagined my ending to be.  Umm... wait, I take that back.  I never wanted it to be my ending, I wanted it to be my beginning, my middle and my end. Yeah.

However, as we've gotten older, I realize that marriage is actually not as magical as I thought I would be. And even more so, love is NOT the wondeful concept I projected it to be. 

Apparently, having to compromise and sacrifice is a shitty feeling that's only romanticized in chick flicks to make it seem like it's a GOOD thing. Trying to like what your partner likes is freakin' frustrating and annoying.  And sticking together through "thick-and-thin" can sound good but it blows because you just want to ditch them on the road sometimes. And then there's times when you don't even want to live by the morals and values you thought you believed in. You don't want to be open-minded anymore, and you don't want to try. You just want that other person to be exactly like you, think exactly like you, and just stfu and make you feel better. But they won't. So there's friction, friction, more friction, and you wonder where the love went. Well, that's love, my dears. Love (can) suck(s).  Of course then marriage can suck even more because you're committed to loving someone who you can't stand at times.

Realizing that love, marriage, and being happy is NOT the same has been the biggest surprise of my life. It's turned my world upside down, inside-out, and honest-to-God, I'm still reeling from the shock of it all.

In the past few years, I've learned that there are people in this world who are NOT married, but who have all of these wonderful things in their relationships that seem like the magical love that I imagine (lucky bastards!)  There are people who ARE married who have none of them (woe is them-- hello, reality). And there are people who think they are in love and have some of those magical things and also some of those shitty things (THE MAJORITY OF THEM!). So apparently, marriage is not the end-all-be-all when it comes to love and happiness.

I'm starting to get it when some people say they don't believe in marriage. I wonder about it now too. Who wants to handcuff themselves to someone else when when it's so much more relaxing to be on your own these days?

Still, there's the traditional, optimistic, and pathetically hopeful part of me that wants the whole enchilada.  I want to (still) believe that marriage can signify commitment, acceptance, perseverance, compromise, and happiness at the same time. I want to have all the things I didn't see in my parents' relationship, and I want to have all the things that I see in people who are happily together (married or not) and choosing each day to be together. Because I realize that it's so damn hard, I think it makes sense that even the screening process (aka dating) is going to be difficult.  Thank goodness ur not clicking with just anybody, _____ (friend's name)! Then you have to put-up-with-them months later, years later (That's what I do.  I click with anyone and everyone and then I suffer the consequences until I can no longer). The journey will only get harder, and if it's the right person, I think it's supposed to be more rewarding as well. So he better be worth it to make it to the final running!"

So, this is how I love.

Mr. Z's birthday is coming up!
I knew this was the case, but I didn't know the exact date until I looked at his adoption papers this week.
March 16, 2009-- my little boy is going to turn 3!

I can't begin to tell you the excitement that I had this week. I went into full-on party-planning mode and looked up birthday cakes and dog cake recipes for him. I felt an out-of-control excitement about making his FIRST birthday with me very special and very meaningful.  For him and for me! With a history of abuse and such serious separation anxiety, I want to celebrate Mr. Z. and let him know he is SO loved and adored.

In the midst of scouring the internet, I had an out-of-body experience watching myself get so excited.  I wondered, "who am I?"  "Who is this woman who is so excited celebrating a dog's birthday, and even planning to have a party and party invitations to friends with and without dogs?"  "Who is she and what did she do to the person that was there before?"

The me before = dog-hater.  Yes, I hated dogs starting at the age of 8 when my brother (age 6 at the time) was attacked by an Akita and almost had his entire right ear bitten off. I was next to my brother when it happened and we were at my dad's friend's house having a BBQ celebration on a warm summer day.  It should have been a perfect night, and I remember even thinking that when it happened.  One minute, I was feeling present and grateful for such an amazing summer night.  The next minute, I heard a sound and turned to see the gigantic Akita on top of my brother.  The night quickly turned from heaven to hell.  Absolute hell. We rushed to the ER, the doctor was an asshole who took his time coming (he had the audacity to ask if we would pay cash because then he'd come faster), and then afterwards, I had to go home with only my dad and worry about my brother.  I thought about giving up my ear for my brother. And it really was such a painful and terrifying process for him. After that incident, my entire family hated and feared dogs. Even teenie tiny ones like Yorkies and Chihuahas.  In college, when walking from one place to another, I would change paths if I saw someone heading toward me walking a dog.

Yup. That's the backstory. That's why I'm sometimes still surprised that I a) adopted a dog this year, and b) love my dog as much as I do.  It's even more of a surprise that I'm soooooooooooo into celebrating him and being the animal lover that I never thought I could be (and would actually roll my eyes at)!

So, now you can see why I'm in disbelief about my own behavior.  I realized I needed a reality check and quickly messaged one of my oldest childhood friends to ask her what was happening to me.  I asked her the same questions I asked myself!  "Who am I?" Am I acting out-of-character?" "Why am I acting so out-of-character?" "What is happening to me?"

When she responded, her answer was better than anything I could have ever come up with.  Yay! Thank goodness for friends who really really know me-- even better than myself sometimes!  She said to me that she did NOT think I was acting out-of-character and that I'm quite consistent with myself.  She remarked that THIS IS HOW I LOVE and THIS IS HOW I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED-- whether it is for a family member, for a partner, etc. etc.  She said that for me, it's clear that I love Mr. Z. and want to make him happy.  So, taking all this into consideration, she did NOT think I was behaving strangely, and in fact, she thought I was being VERY VERY ME.

Her response set be back.

Wow.

That was such an eye-opening response and a very compassionate way to see myself.  Since getting her perspective , I've begun to reflect on why I'm so judgmental towards myself, and why I'm not able to be more strength-oriented when it comes to viewing myself.  I also learned through my friend's modeling of how to treat myself. Rather than frame my excitement into something negative, my friend reminded me to see myself in a positive light, in a realistic but encouraging light, and to offer myself more kindness, non-judgmentalness, and of course, compassion to myself.

Contentment

Throughout my process of navigating grief, loss, and past loves, I have neglected to write a little bit about the current love of my life: Mr. Z.  He may be a dog, alright, but he certainly shows me love everyday and makes me feel like I am special, important, and a very necessary part of his life.

When I was home over the last week and a half, my family fell head-over-heels-in-love with Mr. Z.  They adored him, and in turn, he loved them all: each and every one of them.  Funnily enough, this scenario is always what I wished for.  I always hoped I could one day be with someone (ahem, a mature man) who could blend into my family and win all of their loves.  I wished that he would embrace my family with the same love I have for them, and that they would reciprocate a similar level of respect and liking towards him.  Thus far, I have not met a boy like that.  And I have not ever brought a boy home who was like that.

Mr. Z., however, did all of that and more. And to this day, he continues to surprise me because of the joy that fills my heart when I see him.  Perhaps me doesn't surprise me; I surprise me!  My feelings for him surprise me! While I was at home, my brother commented on how much I loved Mr. Z. and asked if I had ever felt that way for anyone before.  My answer?  No.  Absolutely and positively no.  The feelings that I have for Mr. Z., I would have never labeled it as "love".  It's not on-par with the feelings I have had for ex-boyfriends.  It is totally different.

The way I feel for Mr. Z. is so natural, so easy going, and so secure.  Perhaps that is why it is unlike any other romantic relationship I have ever had.  I don't try to change him.  I don't have any expectations of him.  And I don't fear that one day he will leave me or that he will love me less than before.  I simply think about him when I can, wonder what's best for him, and try to give him as much as I can to maximize his health and well-being.  That's it.  That is all I do.  Is that love?  If so, then I'm finally understanding what pure, raw, unconditional love is.  And I have never felt that for anyone before.  Ever.

Day 4 back home

On Thanksgiving day, prior to preparing for our big dinner feast, my brother asked me to look for something in my room.  As I poked into old boxes filled with my belongings from college and high school, a giant wad of cards and letters fell out.  I picked those up and the first thing I saw was the valentine's day card given to me by my first love. In it, he tells me in his simple 18-year-old lingo that I am his first valentine and his first love.  It is my 1st year in college so he writes about missing me and wishing we were together.  He mocks himself for being so "sappy" and and for sending flowers and chocolate to convey his love.

I finish reading this card and feel hungry for more. I don't have to look further because right beneath that card is another card he sent for my birthday during our first year together as boyfriend-girlfriend.  He wrote 2 cards that year-- one to throw me off, and the second one which says "did you really think that that card was it? I didn't even get to tell you 'I love you' yet!" In this card-- the second one-- he writes about the importance of my birthday and how meaningful this day is for him. He also writes about the challenges of long-distance dating and telling me that he will love me forever and will do anything for me.  He draws a picture of us looking at stars (which is what we frequently did during high school) and he circles a cluster of stars to remind me of the same constellation we used to point out together.

As soon as I finish reading these two cards, my eyes fall onto an envelope that is stuffed with 4 different letters inside.  This envelope stands-out from the rest because of its thickness.  It also stands-out for me because I've read those letters a million times.  Those are the first letters that Robert ever wrote me when we first started dating.  They are the letters that he wrote when we were head-over-heels-in-infatuation during the summer before college.  He had written several letters within a 2-3 month period and had folded them all together and mailed it to me when I went to college.

I pore through each of them and in the first one, Robert is telling me that he likes me.  Not just likes me, but really really likes me.  He is so glad we went to a senior event together that day and is so grateful that he got to spend the day with me.  He also tells me that I'm his best friend and that he loves talking to me and sharing things with me.  Something romantic must have happened that day because he writes about his nervousness and embarrassment and he also discloses feeling happy that we can be vulnerable together.  In another letter, he is feeling terrible because he had a car accident that day and is feeling crummy and self-blaming. He is upset with himself but is glad I got to see him for even an hour that day to cheer him up.  He appreciates having me in his life and is happy that he'll see me 12 hours later.  In every letter, Robert concludes with his signature but also a quote/lyric from a movie/song.  They are each romantic and breath-taking and makes me feel like I am was so important to him, and that I am was the love of his life.

It's time to put the turkey in the oven and to prepare the side dishes for dinner.  I am an emotional wreck after reading these cards and letters.  I am so shocked and validated to see (in print!) that our love was real and that my feeling of being loved was real.  I am also dazed.  I'm not sure what to think.  I've spent the past 4 years thinking that maybe he didn't really love me to begin with, and maybe our love was not significant in his eyes.  I wondered if my intense feelings were/are a figment of my imagination and have to do with my own difficulty of letting-go.  But now look!  Here! All of this!  It's proof! Proof that we did happen, that it was real, that he did love me, and that at some point, our love felt like it would be long-term and life-long.  Robert did love me intensely at one point.  So why not anymore?  Why did it end?  Why does he no longer feel the same way as before?

I realize that I will never stop loving him.  Even in another relationship, Robert still remains as my first love.  My first and my pure love, unfiltered, unrestrained, in its organic and intense form.  Robert can date as much as he wants and he is sure to marry one day.  And even then, I will still love him, from afar. I hope I am meaningful to him because I was his first love.  I am the first person he wanted to spend forever with.  Our motto during long-distance dating was, exactly this: "This is only temporary, we are going to be forever."

I suddenly miss Robert with a ferocious intensity that it scares me.  I feel an unpredictable and uncontrollable urge to find him, see him, touch him, force him to remember that he used to love me and that we used to be best friends.  We used to live to see each other.  We used to want nothing but each other and we were so happy just to be with each other. I want to tell him that I used to love him.  Correction: I still love him.  As soon as I come home, I realize that I want only him.

I head downstairs to the kitchen to prepare dinner and pretend to cry because of the onions that I am cutting.  It's not the onions.  It's not the cooking.  It's the cards and letters.  I am officially transported back to the summer of my high school senior year during the honeymoon period in my first-ever relationship.  I am so in love.  I am so swept away by his loving words.  But it's actually not 10 years ago, is it.  It's not the same time period, and that same person doesn't even exist anymore.  He may still be just 5 minutes away from my house but he actually doesn't feel those things for me anymore, and we actually are nothing but strangers to each other now.

Finding you

I committed 6 years of my life to the current city and state that I live in, all in pursuit of my graduate degree and specialization.  Away from family and the comforts of friends and even region of country, I have been blessed to easily make new and good friends.  I didn't plan to make new friends.  I certainly didn't think that my friendships would get better or richer than the ones I grew up with.  But I do have people in my life who I have known for fewer years and who feel like family to me.  I just met them, bonded with them, grew with them, and that's it.

I'm in the midst of preparing my next career step and I'll be leaving this place that's been home for the past 6 years.  I don't worry about missing my friends or losing them or making new ones.  I feel quite secure in those relationships, and in the stability of those ties.  What does concern me, recently, is finding my future husband, and knowing that where I go next will influence me meeting him.

My friend from childhood recently emailed to say that she could care less about her love-life right now and that she is in hot pursuit of her career as a graphic designer/ artist / advertising specialist.  She just got out of a long-term relationship with a man who, interestingly enough, is also a womanizer.  What's worse is that he was married, and the biggest liar you can possibly imagine.  So it might have been her anger talking when she swore of men.  But then again, I think she's right when she said that meeting your partner shouldn't be something we fret over.  It's like... hitting puberty.  You don't know what exact moment it will happen, and you really can't plan when or how it will unfold, but it will.  It simply will happen... inevitably.

So, I remind myself of this statement during my job-search these days.  And I let myself look at positions in places that I am almost certain no one will want to go.  Definitely not where I imagine my future husband to be.

So, future husband, just so you know, I'm not going to try to find you anymore. Or put myself in locations that are convenient for you to see/meet.  I'm just gonna do my thing and if you come my way, then cool beans.  And if you don't, well then, I'm falling in love anyways and I'll have a wonderful marriage and amazing kids. It's gonna happen sometime. I just don't know yet, who.

Meeting Prince Charming

I've envisioned falling in love since I was a child. My earliest memory dates back to elementary school when I started having crushes and wondering about whether he (and there were so many potentials) would be my prince charming.

In junior high, my friends laughed thought I was naive and silly when I vowed that I would only date/sleep with/marry 1 guy and that it would only take 1 shot for me to meet my true love.  How serious I was, even at the age of 12.  I was so determined and so adamant.  I even made a "3 million dollar bet" at that time because I was so sure and confident in myself and in my prince charming.

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Years later, the exhaustion is sinking in, and I'm feeling less optimistic-- perhaps in a healthy way.  I might have been too optimistic when I was younger.  With my last relationship getting me to such a low point, you might say that I'm swinging to the other extremity now and hopefully getting closer to the middle point.  At present, though, if you could see my soul, you would see that there's an old lady therehunched over from years of anticipating love, dating the wrong guys, and always hoping for the best with every single guy. This old, white-haired lady is emotionally drained and does not have the energy to look anymore.  It may be a good thing because she's too tired to fantasize changing a below-mediocre guy.  She doesn't have the faith or crazy motivation to improve losers so that they can just be prince charming.  At this point, she won't make or many sacrifices and she won't take on another project because she's had enough.  Should the right person come along and fit well into her life, then that would be fantastic.  If not, then she'll continue to move forward, even if it's at a snail's pace, because she's doing OK even if it's on her own.  For the first time ever, she's not taking concerned about Prince Charming or where he is at.  She's not fantasizing about him or what could be between them.  She's just taking things one step at a time, and enjoying the peace that she feels while she's at it.