Nobody But Me

A few weeks ago, as I was thinking of writing this, I was sitting on a beach near Lakeview, looking out at a handful of little kids, who were making sand castles, splashing in the water and having fun as only children can on the last weekend of summer vacation. It was bright and warm like summer days should be, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The days leading up to this one were almost unbearably hot (you know, for Canada anyways) but this day it was a touch cooler, as if it was a subtle reminder of summer’s finality and the weather that is just around the corner waiting for us. This actually suited me quite well, because even though I enjoy a hot summer day as much as the next person, a cool day at the beach meant that I could relax in the sun without sweat pooling in my ass crack. 

If that paragraph sounds at all familiar, then clearly you have been to this blog before as you may recognize it from my last post from almost three months ago. I will often plagiarize myself when I’m finding it difficult to come up with new things to write. I would just repost what I wrote three months ago, but thankfully, things have changed just enough that I can rewrite the rest. 

See, this time around, a good few months since I wrote the first bit, as I was sitting on that same beach my mind not once wandered to anything Kevin related like it had before. I looked out at the people on their floaties and only thought of how much fun it would be to have a pizza shaped one like one of the teenagers out there had. When I was in the (fucking freezing) cold water and saw the boats out in the distance drive by I thought only of how cold I was going to be in a moment when the waves that those boats created hit me and splashed up over my tits, whose nipples already had the ability to cut glass. And when I looked at the yacht club, I still thought of how fucking ridiculous it is for there to be a yacht club at this beach, but I also thought about how nice it would be to own one of the pontoon boats (or as the fancy people here like to call them, yachts) that was parked in the marina. But not even once did my brain think of these things in relation to Kevin.

This is probably because this time, sitting next to me on my beach blanket was a beautiful, kind hearted, sweet, caring, funny, intelligent man who for whatever reason had decided he liked me enough to call me his girlfriend. I’m still a little fuzzy on why he likes me; he seems to not care so much about the baggage that I have definitely brought with me into this relationship, and in fact, he seems perfectly ok with helping me carry this baggage. So there I sat, on my beach blanket, in the warm sun with a cool breeze, next to this half naked man whose dark chocolate skin glistened with sweat and lake water in the sun rays. We talked, he told me about his family back home, we swam, I froze, we snacked and relaxed and he even got mistaken for a football player (because apparently, in Lakeview, if you are black, you of course are a football player, so between this and the ridiculous “Yacht Club”, I see how cartoonish the place I live in is). 

We met at the beginning of August. It wasn’t in anyway an earth shattering exchange really. He messaged me online, and seemed far more normal than most guys that had been lately. Our first date was simple, we met at a Boston Pizza, which for those of you who are unfamiliar, is the sit-down restaurant equivalent of a McDonald’s in that there are no less than three of these restaurants in any given city, at least in my province anyways. We chatted, got to know one another, and then said our goodbyes and that was it. We met up a few more times, and had been seeing eachother every couple of days before we decided to be exclusive, and that seems to be that. 

It’s not that this new boyfriend has made me forget or not care about the past. I would never naively believe that that would ever be the case. I still think about Kevin from time to time, against my best attempts not to. And I still absentmindedly bring him up in conversation, in a “well when Kevin and I lived together…” or “when Kevin and I were booking our trip to Cuba…” kind of way. He was a huge part of my life for a while there, so while I try to do my best to suppress the Kevin-ing, it tends to raise its ugly head from time to time.

Things are thankfully getting better. I’m glad I found this new man, and hope things will work between us. So far our biggest issue is that we want to spend more time together and are finding it hard to balance our lives in a way that we can see each other several times a week, so I’m taking that to be a good sign. 
I guess only time will tell. All I can do is hope the best, work for what I want and bundle the fuck up, because that summer beach day has long since gone, the leaves are already half off the trees here, and winter is definitely closer than I’d like to believe it is. Fuck. Wish me luck. On all those things.



Crash and Burn

Two years ago tomorrow.  Two years ago tomorrow, my life changed forever.  I let someone into my life and my heart, I let them take some of my walls down, and I gave them all the love I had.  I changed, for better or for worse.  In many ways I am a very different person than I was 2 years ago. Tomorrow we would have been together 2 years.  That was the anniversary I was supposed to be celebrating this week. I had been counting down the months, and had been so excited to celebrate a 2nd anniversary.  I have never celebrated a 2nd anniversary before.  I thought for sure that this would be the second of many anniversaries ahead. Alas, my illusive second anniversary will have to wait.  Instead, I am debating if I should call in sick to work tomorrow so that I can sleep the day away, preferably going the entire day without talking to anyone.  Sure, it’s been 3 months almost to the day since we broke up, and yes, in many ways I have moved on.  But it still hurts.

In these last 3 months I have had more than enough time to analyze (and over analyze) every detail of my failed relationship.  It hasn’t always been pretty.  This road has led me to some very dark places.  But after all this hurt and darkness, I’ve come upon a conclusion.  If I had the chance to go back in time, if Doc and Marty came to me and got me into the Dolorean, and we went back to 2 years ago from today, to the day before Kevin and I met, I would just sit back and watch.  I wouldn’t step in and prevent my past self from making plans to meet him.  I wouldn’t stop me from going on that first date, or from falling so hard in love with him.  I would sit back and watch me move in with him, even though I now know that we probably did that way too soon.  I’d watch as we fought, then made up.  I’d be a fly on the wall during the birthdays, holidays, parties, family times and times with friends.  I’d relive our camping trips (and our adventure on the party barge, which will forever be emblazoned on my brain) I’d sit and watch TV with us during our many quiet moments together.  I’d smell all the meals we made together; I’d laugh at all of our jokes, and at the times when we were being goofy together. I’d see the times we made love, and remember how good it felt to be so close to him in that way.  I’d watch him leave for work time and time again, and I’d watch him always come back to me after long periods apart.  I’d watch and try to remember what it was like to have him hold me, and kiss me, and make me feel so loved, so secure, so safe.  I’d pay careful attention to all the wonderful things he did for me or said to me, and try to forgive him for the not so wonderful things.

And then when the time came, as hard as it would be, I’d quietly watch as it dawned on me that our relationship had changed and we were falling apart.  I’d sit there and watch my heart break as Kevin tells me that he is no longer in love with me.  As hard as it would be, I would let things play out as we decided it was best that we break up.  And I would be there to watch as I packed up all my stuff, and left.  I would watch it all; I’d experience it all over again, all the joy and all the pain, without altering anything.

Not only because I’ve seen Back to the Future about a thousand times and know that changing things could lead to DIRE CONSEQUENCES or, lead to me being super rich and famous (damnit!), but because every moment of those 21 months were worth preserving, even if they ended in pain.

I’m a different person than I was 24 months ago.  Being with Kevin changed me.  And for what it’s worth, I’m better off for having gone through all that.  I know a little bit more about myself now, and I am glad to see that I am strong enough to walk away from something that isn’t working, even if I don’t really want to.  I have always said that I’d rather be single than in a relationship with the wrong person, and I’m glad that when it came right down to it, I wasn’t full of shit on that point.  Because I am worth so much more.

I deserve to have a man who will know without a doubt what he has when he has me, and who thanks his lucky stars that he found me.  I deserve a man who knows that I have flaws, but that he does too, and that we help each other out where we need to.  I deserve a man that will always love me, and will believe me when I tell him that I love him.  I deserve a man who will one day want to marry me, and have kids with me, and will want to grow old with me.  I deserve love. Life changing, soul sweeping, head over heels, ass over teakettle love.  And I deserve all this with a man who deserves all of this too.

Maybe Kevin deserves all of that too, but not from me.

So Kevin, if you are reading this (I have a sneaking suspicion that you still venture to this part of the internet from time to time) thank you for the last two years.  For better, or for worse, these last two years have been some of the greatest years of my life.  And even though our time together didn’t end like I was hoping it would, I am glad you were once such a big part of my world.

Maybe tomorrow I will go to work anyways and be with the land of the living. Maybe instead of drowning in my sorrows, I’ll do something nice for myself, and give myself the anniversary I deserve anyways. Or, maybe I’ll just get trashed after work and watch a Iron Man and then call in sick on Friday. So many options. 

And to my readers (all 5 of you) thanks for letting me spend yet another week going on and on and on about Kevin.  I will try to get some new shit to write about one day.  After all, now that I’m single and dating again, there are bound to be entertaining stories on the way!



Different Days

T’was the night before Christmas and all through the suite, not a creature was stirring, but I so had cold feet.

The Netflix fire was roaring, and the wine had been poured, the gifts were all wrapped, and were properly stored.

The turkey had been eaten and stuffed to the tits was I, and yet the thoughts of this year, still brought a tear to my eye.

For my heart had been broken, and still had not mended, so many of my thoughts in text were not sended.

So here I sit thinking, laptop in lap, writing this blog while I drink what’s on tap.

I think of this year, all the time that I’ve blown, as I drink not so merry, to a Christmas alone.

I hope you all enjoyed my lovely little Christmas poem.  That bad boy took me quite some time to think up.  I hope all your festivities were wonderful.  So far mine have been alright.  Just so you know, I am writing this Christmas Eve, partly to get a jump on this, because I really want to have a post for next week, and the next few days are going to be busy, and partly because I’m a bit depressed all of a sudden and I feel the need to get things off my brain before I go to bed.

Now, usually at this point every year on the blog I give you guys (all 5 of you) a recap of my year.  This in hindsight is fairly pointless to do, because if you are reading every post, you already know how my year has gone for the most part.  It took me 3 years to come to this conclusion.  Holy fuck I am slow.  So this year, I have decided to cram all of 2015 into one sentence.  Basically all my year included was Kevin, Kevin going many many miles away for work, our relationship deteriorating, our relationship ending, I’m single and dating again.  There you have it ladies and gents, my year in a nutshell.

Instead, I think I’d rather tell you about my December, because that I think has more going on, and frankly I think I have dedicated more than enough blog space to getting everything out about mine and Kevin’s relationship and where I go from there.  But I know that what my 5 readers are really interested in, is my new single world, which so far, I’ve been very vague about.

So without further ado, I give to you ladies and gentlemen, Olivia’s Newly Acquired (and Not at All Wanted) Single Girl Life!  Hooray! In my last post, I mentioned that I am in fact back out in the world of dating.  At the beginning of December I put myself on the Tinder machine (which actually was not nearly as ridiculous as everyone makes it out to be) and back on the dating site I was on prior to meeting Kevin (which is exactly as ridiculous as I remember it being.) Since the beginning of December, I have met 4 guys.  There was the farm boy, who was nice, but we just didn’t have much of anything in common.  Then there was the film geek who I had a bit more in common with, but he came off as a bit pretentious, and to be honest I kinda only wanted to meet him because he met Neil Patrick Harris, and yes that impressed me.  And of course as is the case with all things related to online dating, the last in the line up was The Bummer.  The guy who despite being a well intentioned man, was clingy, and needy, and came on way too strong for someone who only met me for a 45 minute coffee one time. He literally did not leave me alone for weeks, even after I explicitly told him that I wasn’t interested in him. I even told him I was interested in someone else.  And it still took me a week of not replying to his messages, and finally sending a much more rude text than I ever like sending before he finally got the hint.  But in life, I have learned that it can’t all be sunshine and lollipops in the world of dating.  Sometimes a bummer rain must fall.

The good news here is that through the bummer rains shone a rainbow.  A rainbow by the name of Max.  Now, Max and I met for drinks at the very beginning of December. He was the first guy I agreed to meet with since Kevin.  And I was nervous as hell. I had to fight every single urge inside of me that was saying I should cancel, get back into my pajama pants, get back on the couch, and cry myself through the next 6 months. I am so glad though that I went. We hit it off right away.  He’s interesting, and intelligent and open minded.  He has a sharp wit and a great sense of humor.  He is kind, and caring, sweet and thoughtful.  He is just my type physically. He even grew up in a small hick town not too far away from the small hick town I grew up in.  We clicked.  But I still felt weird.  It felt so odd to be out with a new guy.  I didn’t want him to kiss me goodnight, because I honestly didn’t know how I felt.  So I was more than ok that he didn’t.  But when he said he wanted to see me again, soon, and I got excited about it, I knew that there might be something there.

The second date was even better than the first.  This time, we went to a nice restaurant, and then we went to the arcade.  It was the first time in a long time since I have had that much fun on a date.  Usually the dates that I go on consist of meals, drinks, maybe a movie.  And I usually have to plan it all (which I fucking hate doing).  But Max planned everything. He took the lead, he put thought into what we were doing, which in my books is romantic as all hell.  And he came to play.  We didn’t just play skeeball (although I fucking love skeeball) we played Tetris and pinball, I kicked his ass at the racing game, and he even went toe to toe with me for a couple sweaty rounds of Dance Dance Revolution.  It was fun.  More fun than I’ve had in awhile.  We took a snowy December night walk to a coffee shop afterwards, and when he walked me back to my car, I felt butterflies.  He kissed me goodbye that night.  It was wonderful.  It was perfect.  And when I got into my car, I cried.  Like a god damned baby.

Kissing Max was amazing, the whole night was amazing. But that kiss was just a reminder that I was dating again, and that Max for better or for worse, was not Kevin.  Not that I wanted to be back with Kevin, just that I was starting over again, and back in that uncertain place that came with being with someone new.  Since that night Max and I have been seeing quite a fair bit of each other, and the dates have been a fantastic mix of exciting and low key. The kisses keep getting better and luckily there haven’t been any more tears afterwards. 

I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself when it comes to Max though.  I like him a lot, and truth be told I really would like it if we continued to see each other, and as of right now that looks like that’s a real possibility.  But I’m not holding my breath, nor do I dare call him anything other than just a guy I am hanging out with for now.  I mean for fuck’s sake, I thought Kevin and I were a lock after almost 2 years, and look how that went down. So I am not going to jump the gun and call Max my boyfriend until I know for sure.  Knowing my luck in this department, I will be all kinds of alone again by Valentine’s Day.  All I can do right now is keep doing what I’m doing with Max, and hope for the best.

Well, that’s it for 2015 blueberries.  I hope this year has been good to you.  It has been interesting to say the least for me.  I have had so many great times this year, but at the same time it has been one of the hardest years of my life.  Here’s hoping next year is all the good, without the bad.

Oops, my wine glass is empty, and it’s officially Christmas now, so I guess I should put the wine and laptop away and go to bed.  Happy everything guys!! Here’s to the best of 2016’s!



Shake It Out

After a big loss (such as a break-up), it is very easy to fall into a rut. When that pain hits you like a freight train and knocks you on your ass, there isn’t much to do but put yourself into a sort of coma to help ease the pain. For me, I wallowed in private. I forced a smile and laughter around others, and then when I got home at the end of the day, I got into my pjs, sat in front of Netflix and cried. Lots. And often. Once the initial shock of the break-up passed and I was no longer suffering through my break-up induced hunger strike (I wanted to eat but just couldn’t without wanting to throw up) I added diving into ice cream and expensive Australian cookies head first (thank you Nate for that.) into the mix. Which is great, because I don’t want to wear pants anyways, so it helps that my ass no longer fits in any of my pants.

While I was busy growing my ass, I spent weeks replaying the entire relationship over and over in my brain. And in doing so, I overanalyzed every detail as well. What did he really mean when he said that? Why did he do that then? What could I have done to have prevented this? When exactly did he realize he no longer loved me? Was he wanting this to end ages ago and just couldn’t bring himself to dump me? I had all the questions in the world, and not a single answer to be had. Kevin was absolutely no help. He was still 3000kms away at work and even more incommunicado than he was before we split. I thought that when I saw him again in person that that would help clear things up.

I was wrong.

When he got back a couple weeks ago for his days off, he texted me, and we talked for a little while. We made plans for me to stop by the house one day to pick up some of my mail, and some other things I missed in the packing and moving frenzy that was me moving out. So the day after our text conversation, I went over there to do just that. And it was weird. So weird. Even pulling into the driveway was weird. Ringing the door bell instead of walking right in like I had done every single day for pretty much the entire 2 years we were dating was weird. The house itself hadn’t  changed at all. Kevin himself looked the same. And yet I was acutely aware of the fact that everything was different. And being in that house with him without being his girlfriend was the weirdest and hardest thing of all.

I stayed there a little longer than I should have, but we talked a little, and I got some more stuff off my chest that I have been holding in for the last month. He finally acknowledged that the distance put between us by his work was a contributing factor to our break-up (which I desperately needed to hear for my own sanity), and we both agreed that neither one of us worked hard enough on the relationship both while he was gone and especially when he was home. There was a lot more that we could have done together to make this work. It was good to talk all of that stuff out, even if I didn’t get all the answers I want. I don’t think I ever will. 

When the conversation turned into “things I can’t let go, but we’ve already talked about in great detail” I decided it was time for me to go back to my new house. When I went to leave, he asked for a hug, which I obliged to. Just so you all know, hugging your ex boyfriend whom you still have feelings for is the most incredibly confusing thing in the entire world. On one hand it felt so natural, so comforting. He smelled the same and felt the same, and part of me would have stayed there in his arms forever if I could have. But the other part of me, the smart, logical me, was screaming at me to let him go and walk the fuck away. “STOP HUGGING HIM. THIS HUG DOESN’T CHANGE ANYTHING. HE IS STILL THE ONE WHO SMASHED YOUR HEART TO A MILLION PIECES NOT MORE THAN A MONTH AGO. WALK. THE. FUCK. AWAY.” Luckily I listened to the logical part of my brain, pulled away from him, said goodbye, and went home. Be proud of me you guys, I didn’t shed a single tear till I got into my car. Look how strong I was. Don’t focus on the fact that when I got to my car I blubbered like a fucking baby. Just focus on the fact that I waited.

Now, through the fog of all of this break-up bullshit, I’ve been incredibly lucky to have the clarity and perspective that only your most outspoken family members can have. That weekend I went to visit my dad and step-mom, and had a long conversation with them about my relationship and break-up with Kevin. My dad, never being the kind of guy to sugar coat a situation, gave me the best perspective of things. Actually, my dad has been incredibly supportive this whole time. We’ve always been fairly close, but the day Kevin and I broke up, he surprised me by calling me right away, and helped me so much in the days following when I was trying to get my shit together.

And, it was my dad that convinced me that it is time to move on. What he said to me was simple: if Kevin and I are meant to be, we will find a way to be together regardless of our circumstances down the road and if we aren’t meant to be, then we won’t. It’s really that simple. But in the meantime, I can’t just sit around and put my life on hold to find out. He doesn’t want to see me waste more time wallowing over a relationship that is over, and over a man who didn’t love me enough to keep me in his life.  My dad suggested I get out and start meeting people again.

So, I thought about it and figured he was right. I could waste the next 6 months being sad and just sitting around waiting till I think everyone thinks it’s the time for me to be ready to date again, or I can go and meet people and maybe figure that shit out for myself. So that’s exactly what I did. Sure, it could be too early, but I need to be the one figuring that out, and I’m never going to do that sitting on the couch every night. And let’s be real here, the only person who I am concerned with thinking I’m moving on too soon is Kevin. I’m worried that it’s going to hurt him if I move on right away. Which is fucking insane. He let me walk out of his life, he made the consious decision to make me single again. If he didn’t want me to date someone else, he shouldn’t have let me go. 

So I did what any single girl in my position would do: I signed up for online dating. It’s only been a week, so it remains to be seen what the future holds for me. Luckily I was such a pro at the online dating thing before Kevin, that I have hit the ground running. The game is the same, but some of the guys have changed. I’m older now, and looking for older guys, which weeds out a lot of douchebags. Of course I’ve already been called a fucking slut because I wasn’t replying to messages in a timely manner, by an immature 30 something asshat who should have his wi-fi privileges revoked. But overall, the experience has been ok. So far I have only met 2 guys, one of which is actually pretty damn awesome, and have plans with 2 other guys later this week. But make no mistake, I have absolutely no intentions of sleeping with anyone yet, I’m taking that part of dating as slow as I can. But I’m having fun. It’s nice to talk to guys again. It’s nice to flirt. It’s nice to get butterflies in anticipation of meeting someone new and it’s nice to be taken out on an actual date. I forgot how much fun the dating part can be.

I still miss Kevin and I probably always will, but it’s time to get on with my life. Because I’m just too fucking awesome to let my life pass me by.

Catch ya later blueberries.

For the Longest Time

If you would have told me a year ago that these days I’d be contemplating getting back on the dating scene (and let’s be honest here, when I say the “dating scene” I really mean the online dating scene) I would have thought you were crazy. I would have called you a bad four letter name, and went about my life, blissfully in love, and hopelessly unaware that that was indeed going to be a reality these days. If only I had a time machine.

When you break up with someone, timing is usually everything.  I mean nobody wants to be the asshole that dumps someone during a funeral, or while they are getting open heart surgery or something.  That’s a total dick move.  Don’t do that. Luckily for me, the timing for most things in this break up lined up so perfectly that I am wondering if this sadly is what was meant to happen. It happened well before our 2nd anniversary and Christmas and Valentine’s Day, which would have been awful to look back on and realize that Kevin wasn’t happy with me during those times, or was only suffering through them with me so that we could break up during a less devastating couple of months. It happened before I had booked my flight for the trip to Vancouver we were planning for his friend’s wedding, as well as before I dropped big dollars on the perfect Christmas gift I had found for him.  Only by a few days mind you, not even 3 days before we broke up I was pricing both flights and gifts out online.  It also happened during a time when work was slow enough that I was able to take a couple days off to cry it out and get my shit together to move. And as luck would have it, the absolutely affordable, newly renovated basement suite in Lucy and her boyfriend’s house became vacant at the same time I was in need of a new home. I even lucked out when it came to finding free furniture and getting help to move all my shit into my new place.  All things considered, the timing was as good as I could have ever hoped considering the circumstances.

But that is really the only place where time is on my side. In so many other ways, I need to be patient, and wait for things to happen when they are ready to.  And as anyone who has ever read anything here can tell you, I am by no means a patient person. I want to be ready to start dating again.  I want to already be at the point where I rarely think about Kevin, and when I can get butterflies in my stomach about a new guy.  This stage of the break up hurts too much.  I’m not a fan of it.  But there are so many reasons why I know it is too early to even be thinking about dating someone else right now.  For starters, I’m not 100% sure where Kevin and I stand. Sure, the door was left open for the possibility of getting back together, but I’m going crazy already waiting for him to come to me and say, “hey, I’ve been thinking about us a lot and I think breaking up was a big mistake. I can’t picture a future without you.” Even though I have this feeling deep down that knows that the likelihood of hearing Kevin tell me that is about as likely as Robert Downey Jr. seeking me out because he’s always wanted to meet an obnoxious, overweight, dating blogger whom he’s never even heard of. In my heart I know that this break up is probably very permanent.

The second reason is that I get legitimately ill when I think of what dating someone else will be like.  I’ve been around the block enough to know that dating is absolutely awful, and my long term memory is good in that I remember what the guys I met before Kevin were like.  It was one of the reasons why I fell in love with Kevin in the first place. He was different from the rest of the guys out there.  So the thought of having to do that all over again, and meet all those same kinds of guys is super discouraging.  I mean really, what if I get back out there and don’t meet anyone else?  Then what?

The third biggest reason for waiting to date is that I am absolutely not ready to see Kevin date anyone else.  I know that it’s inevitable that he will find a new girlfriend, but the thought of having that happen in the next few months breaks my heart more than anything else.  Do I want him to be happy? Sure.  But would I rather have him alone, and pinning for me, at least until after I’ve long since moved on?  Abso-fucking-lutley.  Call me a selfish bitch all you want, but I guarantee most if not all of you would feel the same way under the circumstances.

So now the only thing left to do besides cry and eat my weight in chocolate, is to patiently wait for when I’m actually ready to move on to the next thing. I have about a million reasons why I want to move on today, but I think for now I’m going to wait.  I don’t know how to do this ex-girlfriend thing anymore than I knew how to do the girlfriend thing in the first place.  I guess there is a learning curve with all of it.  I just wish this was a class that I never had to take.


Time Travel Do-Over


Back to the Future DeLorean DMC

I wish I could time travel back to last year, and have a nice long conversation with myself while I was debating if I should make the move from Riverview to Lakeview.

Ok, let’s be honest, if I could time travel, I’d pick a bigger, better event to relive, like the 89′ Grey Cup. I was too young to remember that, but that would be a good place to start my time travel journey. Then, I’d go back to the day and hang out with my 3 grandparents who have since died, or I’d go back to my high school self and tell her that doing her make-up and dressing in clothes that flatter her body type isn’t going to get her pregnant like mom fucking thinks.

Then, after that, I’d go to my last year self, and tell her all about this past year, and maybe add a few dozen things onto that pro/con list I was making for the move.

I would tell year ago me that Erik and I hooked up only once before I told him how I felt, only to have him turn me way down, and remove his name off the pro column, and place him a top the cons.

I would tell her that although living with Lucy is great (pro) that she actually has a social life, and a love life and that not only does it mean you don’t get to see her much (con) you feel a shit ton of jealousy towards her because she gets out more than you do (double con) which then in turn makes you feel guilty and incredibly immature for feeling jealous (triple con).

I would tell her that because Annie and Trey both work and go to school full time, that she hardly ever gets to see them either which sucks (con) but when she does see them, it’s still always fun and comforting to have two friends who know you so well, and accept you exactly the way you are, who you can talk to about anything (huge pro).

At the same time though, she needs to know that she is going to miss Riverview so much that it hurts, and that it will be the first time since she was a child that she felt homesick. Turns out that Riverview is her home, as it was the first city where she had to make it on her own, and where she did the most growing. Year ago me takes that for granted.

Year ago me also takes for granted having a cheap place to live, a great job with awesome co-workers and benefits, and great friends who made life less lonely. Year ago me also took the men of Riverview for granted. She didn’t realize that those guys who wanted to date her and be her boyfriend there would not exist here in Lakeview, and that only her vagina would be wanted, not the rest of her. And to add to that point, I would tell myself to steer clear of Matt and Joel (haven’t told you about Joel yet, that’s the guy that my step-sister tried setting me up with) and to not sleep with either of these guys ever, because when you do, it will be almost impossible to get rid of them.  Apparently when you tell a guy that you don’t want to have sex with anyone again until you are in a relationship, it must mean something else entirely.  *Sidenote: Am I the only woman who says what she means when I’m talking to a guy?!  If I tell you that I like you, I actually do like you.  If I tell you that I don’t want to have sex with you, I mean that I don’t want to have sex with you.  It’s not code, THOSE ARE SIMPLY WORDS*

Of course it’s not all cons for the list as far as men go. I’d tell last year me that telling Erik how she felt and getting her heart smashed to pieces needed to happen in order to finally move on. And I’d tell her that while being kinda slutty is seen by others as a con, some of the sex has been pretty good (PRO) although, to be fair, most of it has not been that great. (Con)

There would be other stuff I would tell her that shouldn’t really affect her pro/con list, but would anyways, like the unbelievably annoying and inconvenient and incredibly poorly planned construction in this city for a staggering 8 months that shut down half the city’s streets almost simultaneously, but that living here also gave her the opportunity to go to almost every football game this season.

There would be a lot of things I would go back and put on that list.  I think if I really knew what this past year held, I probably would have just stayed where I was, you know, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it and such.  Mind you, I’m incredibly stubborn, so maybe I would have moved regardless of what the pro/con list said.

Now, I just want to flash forward.  I want to hop in the time machine (that I don’t actually have, so don’t come knocking at my door wanting to gun it to 88) and travel to see 5 years from now me, and see what that’s like.  I don’t typically like spoiling the endings of stories, but for this one, I’d do it.  Am I married in 5 years? Do I have any kids?  Have I finished my god damned book yet?  Am I still working for less than $20/hour and drowning in an ocean of debt and sadness? Do I live back in Riverview, or did I make the move to somewhere better, like Australia?  I think I’d enjoy Australia.  Actually, I take that back, I say I’d enjoy it, but all it would take would be for me to encounter one spider bigger than a dime, and I’d be on the first plane back to Canada.

But until I build that time machine, or find a crystal ball, I guess I just have to live my life all the way through, and get to the ending when it’s supposed to be the end.  I have to be patient until then I guess.  I fucking hate being patient.

See you next week blueberries, cause where we’re going, we don’t need roads.


The Pitfalls of Being Awesome

The life of a double agent does have its drawbacks. First off, it’s not like in the movies. I don’t have a cool disguise, or a pair of Buddy Holly hipster glasses that I need to wear in public so that people don’t know my true identity. I don’t get to do something cool like whip my glasses off, and pull my shirt open to reveal some ridiculously badass and form flattering spandex jumpsuit that I will use to get all the bad guys.

No. I’m just me all the time, with my only weapon being the invisibility cloak that is the Internet. Machine of anonymity I call it. I can say whatever I want from behind my computer screen and nobody knows it’s really me. But the problem, as I have mentioned numerous times, is that I can only tell certain people about my secret life as Super Blogger (it’s a working title, I’ll think of something better) and the rest are forever in the dark.

Secrets are great. They can be lots of fun. Right now I am keeping several secrets from several people. What they don’t know won’t hurt em, right?

Last week I neglected to mention something out of sheer inability to make it work within the structure of last week’s entry. I wasn’t keeping it as a secret, per say. Mind you, I also didn’t tell anyone in my actual life about it either, so maybe I was keeping it a secret. Whatever.

Last weekend, for the first time in 10 months or so, I saw Erik (formerly FWB). His contact has been sporadic at best over the last few months, and I was definitely keeping my distance. Mostly because after he rejected me I felt like a wounded puppy, but also because after 2 or 3 failed attempts to get together for coffee because he doesn’t know how to fucking follow through with plans, I was fed up with him, and stopped making the effort and getting my hopes up.

This time wasn’t much different. I was reminded by Facebook a couple weeks ago that it was his birthday. Unlike everybody else, I hate wishing people happy birthday via Facebook. If I have your phone number, I would rather text or call. So instead of writing on his wall, I texted a simple happy birthday to him, then deleted the text from my phone, and put phone aside to do other things. I figured if he did message back it would be a couple hours at least, and it would be a simple thanks, so it was not going to be anything worth checking my phone for.

About a half hour later, he messaged back, and instead of just a simple thank you, there was a conversation waiting to happen with him asking me how things were going, what was new, etc. After another half hour of texting back and forth, we had arranged a simple get together for coffee or hanging out.

I didn’t think it would happen. I thought for sure I wouldn’t hear from him for a few weeks, and that the first time I would see his face again would be if I bought tickets to the Rocky Horror Show he’s in every year at Halloween.

So imagine my surprise when Sunday afternoon rolled around, and I received a text message from Erik asking if we were still getting together that night. I was shocked. I thought for sure that he would bail on me. But, we made plans to hang out, and this time we were sticking to it.

We decided to hang out at his place. Lately, I’ve been severely strapped for cash, so I suggested we do something low key. He suggested watching TV at his place. So that’s what we decided to do.

I pulled up to his house around 8, and all of last year’s memories came flooding back. I wasn’t sure what the night would hold, but I knew that whatever it held, I was not going back to the place where I was head over heels for him and he gave no fucks for me.

I walked up to the front door, knocked and sat there patiently, calmly, waiting for him to appear after 10 months. A minute later the door opened, and there he was. He was the same guy who had once held me in his arms, the same guy who had kissed me passionately, and the same one who had made the sex with me all those times a year ago. He didn’t seem to have changed. It was me who had changed. Because when I stepped into his house, I realized that I felt nothing for him. The butterflies I used to get when I saw him were long gone, and my panties were the most dry they had ever been around him ever. It was fucking great!

He smiled and gave me a big, long hug, saying how happy he was to see me. He was shaking! Seriously, was he nervous to see me?! Was this weird for him? This fact actually delighted me. I was causing him discomfort!

He invited me in, and I went and sat on the couch. The deal we had made beforehand was that I was going to come over and we would watch TV, but we were going to watch one episode of Game of Thrones, one of Dexter and one of Breaking Bad, all of which I have never seen. Now, before you give me shit for any of these, I must tell you that I have an incredibly weak tolerance for blood and gore of all kinds and even the smallest amount of obviously fake blood and guts is enough to make me queasy.

So I agreed to watch, but warned him that my eyes would be shielded during the particularly nasty parts. I got through the pilot episodes of Dexter and Game of Thrones (barely) before it was after 10pm, and therefore time to go home. We said our goodbyes, hugged again, and I left.

Last year I would have been very disappointed to leave his house without a kiss, or sex.  This year though, I was so thankful that it never once, not even for a minute, seemed like it was going to go in that direction.  I seem to be over it, and better yet, over him, and I couldn’t be more thrilled about that fact.

We all have our secrets.   In my life, this blog is the biggest secret I got.  It’s funny that this biggest secret would hurt Erik, the second biggest secret, the most if this went public in my real world.

I guess that’s where this is exactly like in the movies, there is always a “good guy” and always a villain.

The problem is that when it comes to this blog, I’m never 100% sure which one I am.