Just Keep Going On

I’m not entirely sure when exactly my life became the script of a really poorly written sitcom, but here we all are, she writes as she continues to eat the half of a chocolate pie she pulled out of the fridge for breakfast, as she is too damn lazy to make eggs, obviously trying to illustrate the point she was trying to make.

This is where I am at now.  Comical levels of sadness. So comical in fact that I could actually be Sadness if anyone ever did the live action version of Inside Out.  Which is a vast departure from the state I was in the last time I put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard as it were) to write my story.  The last time you and I were together, I was sitting on the beach with Chuck, so happy to have a wonderful, beautiful new boyfriend.  I was enjoying our time together, and enjoying having someone in my life that I liked.  Of course, because it’s me, and my life after all is a sitcom, that feeling of joy didn’t last more than a full month after that.  I’m not sure if it was the sleeping with someone else that ruined it for me, the fact that he slept with someone who found out she had Chlamydia, or the fact that he couldn’t figure out why  I didn’t want to stay with him because of those two facts (he had apologized for cheating after all, AND he got me meds to take just in case I had gotten Chlamydia from him, and hey, he at least told me he cheated, he didn’t have to, so isn’t he a great guy, and can’t we just work things out?) and then proceeded to essentially stalk me for the following month till I threatened to go to the cops.  I’m not sure which of those three things really made me not like him.  I mean he’s obviously such a catch, I should have just been thankful that he wanted to be with me.  *eyes roll so far back into my head that I go blind*

After all that I took a little break from dating, haha, just kidding, no I didn’t, I got back onto Plenty of Fish and Tinder almost immediately, and by December, I had started meeting new people.  It was pretty slow going, not much to write about, until I got a message from a ghost named Max.  He sent me this really long message, apologizing for being such an asshole to me, and asked if I’d like to meet him for dinner sometime.  I messaged back laying down the law that if we were going to hang out again it would be on my terms.  So we did, and it was like a year had not passed.  I got the same feeling I had last year when we had spent time together, and it wasn’t actually until we were having sex, that I felt different.  Yes, I slept with him, can we save the judgment (I’m projecting here, I know this, shut up) for later in this post? Cause I’m betting you are gonna need all the judgment you got for later.  Anyways, when we were making the sex it was like my brain woke up and reminded me of how he treated me last year.  I started to give myself shit, like all he has to do is say he’s sorry, pay for your meal and buy you some really fancy expensive yarn (yes, he did that, and it’s beautiful and I can’t decide what I want to make with it) and you are back in his bed, and feeling like absolute garbage? What in the actual fuck is the matter with you?  So needless to say I left his place very unsettled and unsatisfied.  We saw a movie together a week or so later, and then after that you know what happened?  History repeated itself.  I just stopped hearing from him.  Again.  Because if I’ve learned one thing in this life it’s that if you do something you know you shouldn’t be doing, the universe or whatever the fuck will show you exactly why you shouldn’t have done that thing.

Which brings me to right now.  Yes there have been more funny dating stories that I could share, and a few more that are less than hilarious, but since we are talking about letting in blasts from the past when you fucking know better, and since it’s fresh in my brain, we come to last night.  After a few months of less than impressive dating stats, I wrote a big longwinded post on Facebook about the woes of dating, specifically online dating.  I was doing my best to keep things as light and funny as possible, but I obviously came off almost as dark and depressed as I have been lately, because no more than 5 minutes after I hit post, I received a text message from the infamous Erik.  If you don’t know who Erik is, then who even are you, and how did you find this tiny little blog in the most random corner of the internet?  Now, hearing from Erik is nothing new.  In fact, I’ve been hearing from him here and there a lot since Kevin and I split.  We’ve only seen each other in person a few times, but every few weeks I get a text from him, just him saying hello, or telling me something he knows I’d find interesting or funny, like a couple months ago, when a former football player I used to enjoy was working on a production he was involved with.  Our interactions have been very friendly, and while I am always painfully aware of our past whenever I see him or hear from him, overall I think we have made it to this place beyond the awkward where we can maybe actually be friends. With or without the benefits.

Last night he could tell I was down.  And no matter what the motivation to message me was, he was the only person who reached out to ask if I was ok.  He saw through the sarcasm of my post, and could tell that things maybe weren’t as lighthearted and humorous as I was trying to make it seem.  He took what could have been an awful night for me, and made it into a really fun night by doing something not many people in my life can do for me right now – he was just there.  All we did was text, but we chatted about everything from old Simpsons episodes to the thought of having kids one day to him telling me I should audition for a production sometime.  We even cleared the air about what happened between us.  He told me he still feels guilty that he couldn’t give me all the things I wanted with us, and I told him that it’s nothing to feel guilty about, that you can’t force yourself to love someone when you simply don’t.  We talked for almost 4 straight hours, and it was probably the first time since we met over 10 years ago that we actually opened up to each other like that.  Regardless of how I’m feeling today about it (slightly confused, and mad at myself that my heart still skips a tiny bit when I see his name appear on my phone) I’m so glad that it happened.  I’m glad someone, even the most unlikely person was there for me when I just needed to talk to someone.

So judge away.  I know I’m judging me.  And I know I’ll never learn.  But at least with me not learning, it gives me a reason once every 6 months at least to come back and work my shit out here.  Thanks for sticking around a little while longer with me.

Olivia

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Drop in the Ocean

I think I’m dating wrong.  I have been in the dating sea for years, a good decade or so, and have yet to find the elusive ship of relations.  (FYI, this post might be full of bad nautical puns – you’ve been warned) I have just been floating along on my life raft of loneliness, sometimes getting nibbles of whatever I can get my hands on to give me sustenance for a little while longer so I don’t have to resort to throwing myself overboard and just calling it quits.  Now, I have been rescued before.  The S.S. Kevin saved me for a while, till there was a mutiny on the ship, and I was forced to walk the plank. Years before that I took a very short trip on the S.S. Dave #4, which sank shortly thereafter (as did the first 3 S.S. Daves; you’d think I would have learnt my lesson and bought a ticket with a different ship name).  But here I still am, floating on my life raft of loneliness, fast approaching my 31st year on this planet, and wondering if I should keep sailing to find that ship of mine, or if I should just come to terms with the fact that there may not actually be a ship out there for me, and that I might be better off to find land on my own, and forge a new path by myself.

All of this is just a super long winded way of saying that my love life has become rather stagnant lately.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been chatting with a handful of prospects, and a couple of them have been better than others, but nothing worth really writing about lately.  I met one guy that I liked a little over a month ago but he didn’t feel the same way about me, so that was close to something.  But, as it always is with me, it went nowhere.  There is a new guy I have been hanging out with this past week who I like (the one I’ve tweeted about for the 2 of you who read this and follow me on Twitter) but I’m not really sure if I actually like him.  He’s a great guy, we have a ton in common, but I don’t feel excited or nervous to see him.  I feel like I’m just going through the motions of dating.  Is there actually such a thing as having a spark with someone? I know I’ve had it with guys in the past, but was I just reacting to something else?  Or is the fact that I don’t feel the “spark” or whatever a sign that I’m not really into him, so I probably shouldn’t lead him on?

I think part of the problem with me is that I can’t seem to shake all these other guys, mostly ones from my past, which keeps coming back into my life.  These guys pop out of nowhere, like a popup book from hell just to fuck with my brain and prevent me from making rational, sane decisions.

The first in a 4 part gong show: Erik.  Of course Erik rears his head in a time like this.  I think I mentioned a post or two ago that he was back in the picture, texting and snap chatting me on occasion.  We had even had that random dinner date when I was still seeing Max.  But Erik always has and always will come and go in and out of my life as he pleases.  I know this.  And I let him, against my better judgement.  But I have to admit that I like the attention.  I like hanging out with him once in awhile, because we honestly do have fun together.  And he is good for a quick (albeit not great quality) lay once in awhile too.  So that’s the purpose of Erik.  To use me as much as I use him.

The second part in this gong show is Shamus.  Remember him?  I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t; he disappeared out of my life shortly after I moved from Riverview to Lakeview.  I’ve heard from him maybe three times since I moved and for a moment that first year I was here, I thought maybe we’d get together to hook up, but it never happened.  But all of a sudden, out of the blue about 2 weeks ago or so, I started hearing from him again.  Since then every few days he texts me.  The conversations never last long, but I find it both weird and awesome that he’s contacting me again.  Out of all the guys I dated back in Riverview, he was that one guy that I regretted not sleeping with when I had the chance.  There was so much potential there.  He would be the perfect Random Hook-Up Guy if he lived here.  Oh well.

The third part in the gong show is Married Twatwaffle, previously known as Soccer Boy.  This is a story and a half really, but I will try to make it as short and sweet as possible.  We met, hooked up a couple times, it went nowhere, we moved on.  I met Kevin, and during that time, Soccer Boy got married and got his wife pregnant.  But, that didn’t stop SB from messaging me on Facebook messenger periodically, trying to flirt with me.  Each time I heard from him, I had to tell him that flirting with me was not ok, because I had a boyfriend that I loved, and he was fricken married.  After that I would go another 6 – 10 months without hearing from him.  So it’s no surprise that after Kevin and I broke up, that I started to hear from him again.  At first his messages were friendly (which is why I gave him my cell number so we didn’t have to Facebook message) but then, they continued to get more and more inappropriate. So this is the conversation I eventually had to have with him.

   

  

 

 So needless to say after all that that he is a total dick bag.  I mean really, what does he think would happen if he and his wife split up and I started dating him? Does he think that I’d ever trust him when I know full well how he treated his WIFE?  Fuck that.  I know better.  And I was never interested in him enough even 3 years ago to overlook that glaring evidence of sheer douchebaggery.

The fourth and final part is Scooter.  He and I never did end up meeting, because not long after we started talking I met Kevin, and the rest as they say is history, but we have kept fairly decent contact since.  We followed each other on Twitter, in the meantime, but there was no actual contact during the Kevin of it all.  After Kevin though, our tweets back and forth became fairly regular, and eventually turned into DM chatting which has now evolved into the Snapchat game.  But we still haven’t met.  Partly because I don’t actually think he’s interested in me like that, and also because I’m too much of a chicken shit to actually tell him, “Hey, it’s been 2 fucking years.  It’s time we meet and figure this out one way or another.”  So for now I will just do the snap chat thing and hope that one day one of the two of us grows the balls to suggest meeting.

It looks like I am forever doomed to be floating on the life raft loneliness.  Because if the links to those posts have taught any of us anything, it’s that I haven’t learnt a fucking thing in the last 3 years.

Olivia

 

 

Welcome to the Meat Market

Have you ever felt a bit like a pizza?  Like someone ordered you up, in a certain way, in order to fill one purpose and one purpose only: to satiate a hunger?  If not then you probably are not dating. Lucky you.

Online dating is a bit like ordering a pizza online.  Sure, there are lots of different sites to go to find that pizza you are wanting, and you can try going through the list of qualities you look for in a pizza, and pick out exactly what you want, but you can never be certain that the pizza that knocks on your door will be the one you want to spend your life with.  Or something like that.  Now I’m hungry, and not quite sure what I was getting at here.

Oh yeah, dating.  That’s it.  Lately, I have been the one who has been ordered up it seems by people I would least expect.  I am the pizza.  The problem with being the pizza, is that I can’t control who wants to order me, and what their reasons are for it.  I’m going to get off the pizza thing, because it’s starting to get weird, but what I’m trying to say is that lately, dudes from my past have been coming around, only wanting me to fill their hunger for sex, not their hunger to have a partner for the rest of their lives, and I’m wondering why the fuck that is.

Kevin, who I talked a bit about last week, is one of them.  I can never tell if he just misses me as a person, or as his partner, or just misses having a girlfriend in general, or if he misses me because he is horny, and I’m no longer there to satisfy that need for him anymore.  If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the latter, just because when he contacts me, he doesn’t tell me about how he misses me as a person.  Ever.  He tells me how he misses having someone in the house, or someone to spend time with all the time, and of course, he misses the sex.  But he has never said that he misses my laugh, or that he misses the conversations we had, that he misses my sense of humor, or the person I was when I was with him.  But he misses having sex with me.  That seems to be the only thing he misses about me. Or at least, it’s the only thing he misses about me that he has verbalized the most frequently anyways.

This past week I got another blast from the past in a big way. Friend Zone, who after a bit of thought I have decided to rename him Marty, because over the last few weeks I have grown increasingly frustrated with the concept of the dreaded friend zone, and the negative connotations it has against women, but that topic could (and probably will) be its own post down the road. Anyways, Marty for those who don’t remember was a guy I had met online almost 4 years ago when I still lived in Riverview, we went out a couple of times, and while he was an amazing guy, despite my best efforts to force myself to like him, I did not.  The shitty thing was that he really liked me, so I inevitably had to hurt him by placing him as gently as I could into the friend zone.  I also made the horrendous mistake of drunkenly sleeping with him on one of my last nights before moving to Lakeview.  Since I moved here we have seen each other a couple of times shortly after I moved, but I haven’t heard from him since before I met Kevin. Of course now that Kevin is out of the picture, all these guys are coming back out of the woodworks for me.

So I heard from Marty a couple of weeks ago, just to chat, and see how things were going.  It was all very normal, it was all very civil, and most importantly, it was all G rated.  Then I heard from him again this past weekend.  And it quickly turned from just regular chatting, to him talking about wanting to have sex with me real quick.  This is how the conversation went:

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I felt like I was trying my best to not encourage him, while still remaining civil.

 

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Trying even harder to let him know I wasn’t interested in talking about this, without being a bitch.

 

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But then, he said that he wanted me to know I’m still desired.  And a part of me wanted to snap.  I mean, yes, thanks.  But I know I am desired.  I know that guys want to fuck me; I know that guys want to date me.  I’m not alone because nobody wants me; I am currently alone because the right person isn’t here to want me yet.  Since I broke up with Kevin there have been a couple guys that I could have dated just for the sake of not being single anymore.  But I have never been, nor will I ever be that kind of girl.  So I sent this message, and left that be that.

I don’t know guys, I’m not sure what else to do.  I don’t know how long I can do this for.  There isn’t even much more to say really.  I’m just so discouraged by everything.  And the worst part is, I don’t even have pizza here right now to cheer me up.

Olivia

Three Of A Kind

Men are a bit like a deck of cards.  You have your number cards, the 2’s through 10’s, the ones who you usually rely on to add up to something you need, even if they aren’t the best cards in the deck, you know they serve a purpose depending what game you play.  Then you have the Jack, the one who is so close to perfect, but you just can’t figure out how exactly to use him.  After that comes the King.  He’s arguably the best one.  He’s the one that in the game of life usually equals a winning hand.  Together with the queen (you are the queen of course) there is no game you can lose, especially if you are working together.  Sure, there is the Ace, which sometimes will trump the king, but that guy is so fickle, he’s perfect, almost too perfect, and you can never tell whether he’s going to be better than the king you have in your hand, or if he’s going to resort to being the lowest of them all.  And we can’t forget about the wild card – the Joker – who always seems to show up when you least expect him to, just to throw a wrench into things. Sometimes his presence is exciting, and you are so happy to have pulled that guy from the deck.  Other times, seeing him is just a stark reminder that you lose.

Now, I don’t know much about cards (in case you couldn’t tell from that previous paragraph) and I couldn’t win a poker game to save my life, due to the fact that I suck at card games and have no poker face.  But I do know a game I’m losing when I see one.

Right now I have a hand full of cards that I have no idea how to use to win the game.  I can’t tell the kings from the jacks, the 6’s from the 9’s, but I do have a joker in there, although I have absolutely no idea how he fits into this hand anymore.  In essence, this is just a longwinded way of tell you guys that I am fucked.

Since I don’t know exactly where to start, I guess I will just start with that Joker I’ve got.  A joker by the name of Erik.  Erik has always been the wildcard.  For as long as I’ve known him (which believe it or not has been a whopping ten motherfucking years already!) he’s been ridiculously unpredictable.  I never know when I’m going to hear from him, or when he’s going to pop out of nowhere. His presence always takes me by surprise.  With the exception of after a break up.  He’s fairly consistent with that.  When I broke up with Dave #4 a few years back, I started to hear from him regularly, and that break up directly resulted in me and Erik hooking up and becoming the epic FWB pair that has become this blog’s bread and butter.  So I was not surprised even the slightest when within two weeks of breaking up with Kevin, I started getting texts and Twitter DM’s from Erik, seeing how I was doing.  Over the last 4 months I consistently hear from Erik in one way, shape or form.  Including on New Year’s Eve, when he not-so-subtly brought up the idea of some long overdue benefits.  Since then, the random texts I get from him take a turn that way more often than not.  A couple of weeks ago, he texted me and things took that turn quicker than before.  Not only did they take a turn faster, but they also ended with something we hadn’t made in well over 2 years – plans to meet up.

I made these plans, but fully expected for the date to come and go without anything happening.  I have known Erik long enough to know that he has zero follow through, so I was expecting him to either forget that we had made plans, or to have had some else come up, or both.  So I was pretty surprised when I texted him the day before we were supposed to meet up, and he had not only remembered, but was going to follow through with the plans we had made the week before.  So we made plans to go to one of the most overpriced restaurants in the city (his idea, not mine, as I am poor as fuck, and ended up regretting adding the 10 dollar grilled chicken onto my 12 dollar Caesar salad) Before I got there, I wasn’t sure what was really going to happen.  From our texts a few weeks ago, I had the feeling that there was a chance that he was going to invite me back to his place, where all hell could break loose.  And I honestly wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do that or not.  The one part of my brain was screaming at me that nothing should happen, because Erik is so not to be trusted in that department, and hello! aren’t you dating Max?  But the other part of my brain was telling me that I am in fact a free woman until Max and I choose otherwise (although is there a certain point when you are dating someone when you are safe to assume that you probably shouldn’t be sleeping with other people, or is everything fair game until it is verbally agreed upon that you are monogamous?) and seeing as though I am still single, I shouldn’t feel guilty for hooking up with someone else.

At the end of it, it was all a moot point anyways, because as I was texting Erik to let him know that I was on my way to meet him, he accidently sent me a text that was meant for someone else, making plans with that someone later that night, the time of which depending on how long we were out for supper together.  Ah, classic Erik.  It’s nice to know that some things never change.  So I met up with him, we ate overpriced, overrated food; we chatted, had a handful of awkward silences, split the bill, and went our separate ways.  The night almost took a turn when we were saying goodbye, as we went in for a hug, he seemed like he was possibly going to kiss me, but I didn’t realize this in the moment, so I continued to go in for a hug as his kiss awkwardly hit my cheek.  We agreed to keep in touch, and that was that.  Or so I thought.

The next night, I had plans with Max.  It was the first time in almost three weeks that I had been able to make plans with him, as he was gone on a trip for a week, but I was starting to lose hope in the fact that he was still interested.  I have been trying not to text too much, to seem too eager, which I’m now wondering if it’s coming off as if I’m not interested anymore.  But he messaged me first, and wanted to make plans so I was happy about this.  We decided to go out for some pizza.  We decided to go to a place in town that has a good reputation for good pizza that neither of us had been to before.  Seemed like a great idea.  When I got to Max’s, I realized three things.  A) That I had actually missed him a little bit when he was gone B) that I was incredibly glad that nothing happened between Erik and I and C) that both of these things combined mean that I like this guy – a lot.

We chatted the whole way to the restaurant; everything was so easy that way with him.  We walked into this restaurant that was new to both us, and as we entered the hostess area, someone in the dining area caught my eye – Erik.  Yup.  Motherfucking Erik.  Now, this town is small by most accounts, but it is big enough that I have never, NEVER ran into anyone I’ve dated or slept with like this.  Not once. So not only is he there, but the hostess is seating Max and I at a table right next to him.  Luckily I saw him before he saw me, so I did some of my best acting, in pretending to be checking out the restaurant instead of catching his attention.  As I walked past his table to get to my seat, I heard him say my name.  I then proceeded to act surprised to see him.  I said a quick hello, and then sat down next to Max (I’m preparing my Oscar acceptance speech right now in my head for this performance).  Thankfully Erik didn’t stay much longer, him and the group he was with left about 20 minutes later, but in that 20 minutes I had to force myself to keep all my attention on Max and Max only.  Not only because I didn’t want to be rude to Max, but also because I wanted Erik to see that I’ve got other prospects.  I don’t want him to think that he is the only guy I have in my life.  He doesn’t need that kind of power.  Especially since he is always the one to go out of his way to contact me and be in my life, not the other way around, so perhaps I have a stronger hold on him than he either realizes or cares to admit.

Anyways, Max and I had a lovely evening together, the pizza lived up to its excellent reputation (and it was affordable to boot, for the same price of that Caesar salad the night before, I got three meals worth of pizza) and the conversation never faltered.  I like him. I really like him. And while I’m not sure whether or not Max is the king to my queen, another joker, or just another number in my hand, I’m enjoying playing the game right now anyway.

Well, that’s all for this week.  I have more to write about, but unless this piece is 6000 words long, I don’t have the time for it today.  Plus, I like making you bitches feel the need to come back next week!

 

Olivia

 

Kicking My Heels

Holy balls, it’s 2016.  I hope you all had a lovely holiday season. My Christmas was good.  I ate way too much as one does, I had a respectable, some would say almost modest amount of wine and spent some very nice time with my family.  All in all, it was a fantastic holiday.  I hit a minor bout of holiday depression in the early evening on the 25th, as family pictures were being taken and it dawned on me how alone I was. Seeing my step-siblings get nice family pictures with their wives/husbands and their kids, while I just got my “family” picture sitting by myself, nearly pushed me over the edge. I was trying my hardest to smile instead of burst into tears. That was far from how I wanted that day to go, but you know, oh well I guess.  I had a similar experience about a week later on New Year’s Eve as the clock hit midnight, wiping away all the good and bad of 2015, I looked around the room I was in, only to see 3 other couples happy, hugging and kissing their way into 2016.  I on the other hand, swigged my wine back, and hoped like hell that this year would be better.  Almost 2 weeks into the year and I am now back to reality, back in my protective single girl bubble, back to work, and back to my fairly uneventful life.

I say fairly uneventful, because as always, the one area of my life that is far from boring is the wonderful world of dating.  For better or for worse, a single girl’s best friend can sometimes be the craziness and unpredictability of what dating will throw your way.  Between the messages from guys who neither read your online dating profile nor care to, and the guys who CANNOT take the motherfucking hint (ie: I am not responding to your initial message of “Hi” because from what I see on your profile we aren’t right for each other as you say you are looking for a hook-up only, which I am so very not into at the moment, so yes please spend the next 6 weeks messaging me without any response, and then call me the stuck up slut for not contacting you. That’ll change my mind.) to the guys that don’t seem to have the most basic concept of the English language (guys whose first and only language IS English, by the way) to the always classy guys who start a conversation by asking if I want to bang, or by complimenting my tits. Don’t get me wrong, I take that as a compliment none the less because my tits are wonderful, but call me old fashioned when I think that that compliment should be reserved for after I start dating someone, not several nopes before.  Never mind the horror that is the guy who you actually know, have met before in a completely non-dating way who messages you on the dating site with an “Oh hey, remember me?” Internet dating is an interesting thing my friends.

But the internet is not the only place where things get a little hazy.  In fact, I still have yet to meet anybody new since Max and the 3 not-so-muches from my last post.  Max and I are still seeing each other, quite regularly actually, and so far things are going good.  Very good.  So good in fact that I am terrified to have the “what are we to each other?” talk that I know we should probably have sooner than later.  But I figure the longer I put it off, the longer Max and I can stay in this awesome little place, and I can continue to be happy for a little while, in case Max doesn’t feel the same way about me. I’ve been down that unrequited love thing once already in the last few months, I don’t think I could handle another situation like that right now.  At a certain point, you start to take it incredibly personally. So for once I’m more than okay being in this casual dating/relationship limbo.

Speaking of unrequited love, the good news here is that each day I think of Kevin less and less.  Once in awhile I catch myself wondering about him, or thinking about our relationship.  I sometimes play pieces (both the good and the bad) of our relationship over and over in my mind, but even that is becoming less frequent.  When I first met Max, I thought my baggage from Kevin was going to trickle into my new dating life. And at first, it did.  I would compare the two, and think about how things would be different if I was on that date with Kevin instead of Max.  During those first 2 or 3 dates I felt incredibly guilty, because even though we had broken up months before, I still felt like I was being unfaithful to Kevin somehow.  Now it’s the opposite.  When I saw Kevin a couple days before Christmas to pick up some of my mail that got sent to his house, I thought about Max.  I wondered how he would feel if he knew that I was over at my ex-boyfriend’s house.  I felt incredibly guilty, because even though Max and I have never discussed being exclusive, and even though Kevin and I did absolutely nothing but talk, I felt like I was being unfaithful to him.  I usually hate feeling guilty, but in this case I am glad that I did.  I think it’s a definite step in the right direction.

A step in the wrong direction however presented itself over the last couple of weeks.  A wrong direction by the name of Erik.  Now, Erik as my most loyal of readers will remember, was my Friends With Benefits (or FWB) from about 3 years ago, who I hooked up with for about a year, fell for him a little bit (or a lot, whatever), moved cities theoretically to be with him, which of course blew up in my face when he shot me down, and broke my heart.  Over the years we’ve still kept in touch, reconnecting once every few months on Twitter or Facebook, just to say hi, nothing more, nothing less.  Well low and behold, not more than 2 weeks after I had broken up with Kevin and had moved into my new place, guess who I heard from?  Yup, you guessed it, Erik!  He told me how sorry he was that Kevin and I broke up, and blah, blah, blah, he wants me to be happy, blah, blah, blah, and now I hear from him fairly regularly. Including on New Year’s Eve, when a seemingly innocent wishing of a Happy New Years, turned into a very flirtatious round of messaging that sorta ended with a proposition to one day get together for some long overdue benefits.

Don’t fucking judge me!!  I know!!  I should never have let it get to that point.  I know better!  But I’m going to go ahead and blame holiday depression on this one!  I couldn’t even help myself. It felt like such familiar territory.  This is exactly what happened the last time I went through a break up.  I fell down Erik’s rabbit hole (that sounds way worse than it actually is) and lost myself in the comforting embrace of having a really good FWB. So sue me if doing that again after this break up would make me feel better. Luckily, I knew in the moment that what I was doing (or thinking of doing rather) was wrong, so I reached out to Annie, who I knew would kick my ass up and down the block if I went down that path again.  Thank fuck she answered her phone and told me exactly what I needed to hear: don’t. you. fucking. dare.  So I didn’t.  And I can say with 95% certainty that I won’t.  While I know it would probably be fun, and hot, and seeing as though I am still technically single, and completely at liberty to do what (and who) I want, it would be something that I know I would regret forever, especially since it would definitely change things between me and Max one way or another.  And right now, that is a mistake that I simply don’t want to make.

But if things with Max and me go down the shitter, don’t be surprised if there is an FWB post in my future.

Ok…..now you can judge me.  Cause I judge me too.

Hasta la later blueberries!

Olivia

What Wheel Am I Now?

There are very few times when someone else’s break-up will actually affect me. Rarely do I hear of people in my life going their separate ways and think anything other than “Oh, that’s too bad.” I think I am far more affected by the fictional relationships on my favorite TV shows. I still cry when Ross and Rachel go “on a break”, I lost my shit when *spoiler alert* Barney and Robin got divorced on How I Met Your Mother, I still get really excited whenever Luke and Lorelai got back together in Gilmore Girls, because I think the world was always a better place when they were together and I truly believe that Walt and Jesse always cooked the best when they cooked together. I am severely emotionally involved in the lives of fictional people. But when it comes to the people in my real life? All I can usually give is an “Oh, that’s too bad.”

I’m guessing this may have something to do with my parents’ divorce so many years ago. They split when I was 10, long before I started to date, and long before I had any other relationship role models to show me that some love does last forever. Sure, I had my grandparents and uncles and aunts who had been together forever, but when your own parents can’t make it work, it’s hard to see past that, and believe that anybody else out there will go the distance too.

Even with some of closest my friends, it was hard to care more about their relationships ending. Sure, I cried with them, and tried my best to be there for them whenever they needed me. I listened while they told me what happened, and would always try to say something to them that would either cheer them up, or get through to them that they would get through this, and that they were better off without whoever it was they were with. I cared about them and their sadness, but cared little about the actual break-up. I have never lost sleep over someone else’s love ending.

Until now. I haven’t mentioned this yet, because frankly it hasn’t been my place to mention it, but over the summer, Annie and Trey split up. Now, I will spare all the juicy details, because really, it is nobody’s business. But it was an ugly break-up. One of the worst I’ve ever seen, and far surpassing the train wreck that was my parents. And yes, I know that in most break-ups it is never 100% one person’s fault. But, in this case, this one leans heavily, if not completely on Trey’s shoulders. To put it plainly: he fucked up. Big time.

With a break-up this big, especially with a couple as unique as Annie and Trey, there was bound to be a lot of fallout and collateral damage. This is especially true when it comes to their friends. Luckily for Annie (the one and only place where Annie has been lucky in this whole awful, ugly situation by the way) because of the circumstances of the break-up, most of their shared friends have stuck by Annie, myself included.

I don’t usually pick sides. I try not to, because usually I don’t think that’s fair. I don’t like losing friends, so I’d rather be the middle man, than lose out completely. Even in this situation it is hard to remind myself why I’m upset with Trey. I mean, he was a good friend to me. He shared my same weird sense of humor, and we could laugh about literally the dumbest things. He also was a good listener, and was always up for a good chat. He was one of my only friends who actually went out of his/her way to see how things were going in my life. I loved being friends with him. I had been best friends with him and Annie for almost two decades. The three of us were roommates through college, we moved to Riverview together. Trey and I even worked together at McDonalds with a few of our other friends for a little while in high school. There aren’t too many memories from the last two decades that don’t involve Trey and Annie in some way. So it has been really hard to let that go.

But I am mad at him. Not just for what he did to Annie, but for the ripple effect that came from what he did. He ruined a lot of Annie’s world. His deliberate actions forced her to change most parts of her life she had established, like her work, and her living arrangements. This didn’t just mean she had to move to another house, it meant she had to move from Lakeview back home to Valley View, which is an hour away from here. She also got thrown back into the dating world, which we all know is a sad state of affairs no matter what town you’re living in, and she also has to put her plans of having a family (something Annie and Trey both wanted, and were in the process of getting started on) on hold, indefinitely.

Selfishly I am angry that he took away my time of being coupled up at the same time as at least one set of friends in this city. In our group of friends from high school, I have always been the token single chick. During high school we were all mostly single and just wanting to party, which is when most of us became friends to begin with, but as soon as the graduation tassels got placed to the side, and then subsequently tossed in the air, everyone seemed to be coupled up, except me. I hated those days. I was forever the third wheel, hearing about everybody’s relationship and sex lives, while I was busy dating no one, and stuck with the virginity I couldn’t even give away if I wanted to.

It really wasn’t until Annie, Trey and I moved to Riverview that I started to make friends with other single people. That’s actually how Ayla and I met and became best friends. She was basically the Riverview me. She was in her mid-20’s, was forever single like I was, and was also a unicorn like I was, still having her virginity for the same reasons I did. When I found out those things about her, it was exactly like this:

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I was thrilled. Eventually she found a great guy of her own, who she is still with, almost 4 years later, and I eventually found Dave #4, who as you all know, didn’t last very long, which lead to a long string of almosts and not a chance in hells till I moved here to Lakeview.

When I started dating Kevin, it was great bringing him for coffees and meals with Annie and Trey so they could get to know him. It was the first time really ever where I could actually be a coupled person with that group of friends. But now that’s all changed. Once again I am the odd man out, but in a new and very foreign way to me, because now I am the only one in a relationship, and everyone else is living the single girl life I was living till a year ago.

But mostly I am mad because I had no choice but to lose one friend in this situation. No matter who I would have chosen to side with, my friendship with one would have been lost, and the friendship with the one I sided with would have been altered. I’m mad because he shouldn’t have done the things he did in the way that he did them, and I’m angry because I stood there, as a bridesmaid at his wedding, listening to him vow to never hurt Annie like he did. And I believed him. I believed that he meant what he said. I had faith in him, in them and in their relationship.

I know that had things turned out differently, I’d be helping him through this rough time he’s going through. Sure, he fucked up, but he needs a friend too, I just can’t be that friend right now.  I wish I could but I can’t.  All I can do is make sure Annie is ok, be there for her, and let her know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  And any other cheesy inspirational quotes I can throw at her.

Olivia

I’m Glad You’re Mine

Longevity of anything in this life, especially when it comes to love, seems almost impossible to achieve. Look no further than the current divorce rates around the world and my point is very much proved. I actually googled that stat because I was curious. And now I’m a bit depressed. I’ll share the chart that I found, because I don’t think I should be depressed all by myself.

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Note to self: do not get married in Belgium, and maybe consider going to Mexico to get hitched.

Now, what I didn’t post here is the rest of the information I found on that website, and the one statistic that scares me the most. It’s the one that says that children with divorced parents (like me) are more likely to never marry, and are more likely to divorce if they do. We are also twice as likely to have anxiety, depression and self esteem issues than those whose parents are still together. So, thanks for that mom and dad.

My parents have been divorced for almost 20 years. They have been divorced longer than they had been married. And they have both been remarried just about as long as they were married to each other. So in theory, we all should have moved on by now. And for the most part, we all have. I rarely think about it. My family is doing great, and my step families are both awesome. But every once in awhile when I think of my own relationships, and especially my current relationship, I can’t help but think about those divorce stats, and how that may affect me without me ever really knowing about it.

I am always worried that the rug will be pulled out from under me when I least expect it, and when I am the most happy. I play it safe, I keep people and relationships at a distance so that if something ends, or people leave, it won’t hurt as much. I’m far too pessimistic for my own good. And like I said, it’s hard for me not to be pessimistic when it comes to love. I’m sure my parents loved each other at some point. And then one day in the 17 years they were together, they started drifting apart. They slowly stopped loving each other. I saw it happen before my eyes. It was slow, and painful. I’ve already felt that pain once in my life, I’m terrified of it happening again. So sue me.

Today, as I write this (on the 21st, and partially on the 22nd), it is the official 6 month mark of boyfriend’s and my first date. Now, to most, a mere 6 months is nothing to really write home about. I used to scoff at people who used to celebrate monthaversaries. I used to think that it was childish, and immature and ridiculous to celebrate or even just being excited about staying with someone for only a handful of weeks. “Pfft, 6 months? Whoopdy friggen doo, you stayed together the average span of a Canadian winter. Congrats, but any maroon could do that.”

However, in my dating life, 6 months is a long fucking time to be in a relationship with the same guy. I’ve never lasted 6 months with anyone. Hell, making it to 6 dates with someone has been difficult for me. Even Dave #4 and I only made it to about 5 and a half months before all hell broke loose. And it’s not just about staying with someone for that long, it’s also being happy with someone for that long of a time.

So 6 months for me is an accomplishment. I’m happy to be at this point in our relationship. I’m thrilled we made it here, and that I’m as happy in my relationship as I am. I’m trying my best to remain optimistic that this one, this relationship, will be the one that sticks.

So far it seems promising. Honestly, we are one romantic montage of scenes from our time together away from being a romantic comedy starring Jason Segel and Rachel McAdams. I pick him because he is probably the actor who boyfriend is the closest to resembling, and her because I love her, and she’s far more beautiful than I am.

Getting back to the point, things have been going well. I definitely see a future with him. And I am looking forward to the next 6 months with him, and the 6 months after that, and so on. I just have to keep reminding myself that. Like I said, I have a tendency to expect the worst. And if you’ve been reading my blog for the last couple of weeks, I have some serious walls up.

I just need to focus on the good. The fact that we still get along after 6 months. The fact that all our arguments have been very small and have resolved themselves very quickly. (For the record, it’s not a god damn goose, it’s a motherfucking DINOSAUR!) The fact that he still makes me laugh my ass off, and how he still gives me the feels in my lady parts on a regular basis. Actually, the fact that everything is working quite well in the bedroom department is a very good sign. Usually that has been the first thing to go in my previous relationships. It’s also to the point that when I spend a few nights sleeping in my own bed instead of his, I don’t sleep as well, and I start to miss him. All these things are good signs. Although our lack of selfies together is cause for concern. I guess it can’t all be smooth sailing, right?

Guys, if this is the love that I’ve been looking for for so long, you can understand why I wouldn’t want to lose it! It’s pretty great!

So congrats to me for being with someone for so long, and congrats to him for being able to put up with me for so long. It’s been a great 6 months, and I can’t wait to see what the next 6 will be like.

And yes, I just spent a full entry gushing over a monthaversary. I’m lame and immature and incredibly awful.

Like you didn’t already know those things!

Olivia