Thirty and Not Married!

I took this weird, winding road to where I am now.

I’m thirty years old.

I’m unmarried.

I don’t have children.

Ending up in Master’s Commission for seven years threw a kink in the “normal” life, if you will. A lot of people end up attending college after high school, falling in love with someone, getting to work on a career and having some kids.

Not me.

I took this weird, winding road to where I am now.

I’m thirty years old.

I’m unmarried.

I don’t have children.

I’m two classes away from a Bachelor of Arts degree in English.

What really got to me for years?

I wasn’t married! All my friends were getting married except for me. I’d been a bridesmaid about five times (or more…I have enough crappy dresses to prove it). Now, going on 3-0, it’s actually not as huge of a deal to me as it was when I was 24. (Though my current boyfriend might argue with me here. =P Love you, babe)

Why?

My dating life has gone through a radical change.

 

Things That Terrify Me

I recently started dating someone. Let me preface this by saying my luck with relationships is terrible. They’ve all ended (lately I’m the dumped not the dumper) and left me single and rather happy. I’m good at being single. Really good. I have a lot of fun and when I say fun, I mean that I’ll have to explain that later on my NSFW blog and my journals (which ironically I don’t share here).

So one thing I’m afraid of–terrified of–is falling in love, again. It seems like right when I let myself go I find myself falling and no one is there to catch me. Call me melodramatic, but it’s true.

The other thing I’m terrified of is getting close to people. I’m good at it, but I’ve been betrayed in ways that give me nightmares. I don’t like vulnerability. In fact, I find myself already trying to hide my vulnerability with jokes or comments that I don’t even mean with him, because let’s face it…when your previous boyfriends don’t reciprocate the kind of love you feel for them, you end up feeling a bit like you were born in the wrong century where love affairs happened to people and they fell into them…hard. Today people just call you “co-dependent” or say you care too much.

This relationship is different in some ways. We’re long distance and I’ve only done that once. Me and the other LDR met in my home town and he informed me shortly after we met that he was moving to Washington. I didn’t care. I was swept away. It was incredibly romantic. I mean, he romanced me in ways that only seemed to happen in movies. There were trips to Spokane, walks in the park, candlelight dinners. And it was the first time I had sex with someone who I loved. One time he flew in to see me and I surprised him with my own version of romance-a hotel room filled with rose petals, candles and music playing. When he walked in the room, he grabbed me and started slow dancing with me to “our song.”

Within six months we were talking about me moving up there and marriage and babies-and he meant it. His parents loved me so much and I loved them.

And then he made a mistake–saying he wasn’t ready for me to move up there–and I freaked out on him. I had been planning my move already and my dad was going to help me bring my stuff from California to Washington. What went wrong on his end wasn’t even that tragic. All he meant was that he wanted to pay for my apartment and bills and couldn’t at the moment (what with just moving and starting a new job). But I was like, “Who does that? I can pay my own bills. Just fucking let me be there with you.” And just like that, I was mad and he was misunderstood. I told him if he wasn’t serious then he should just break up with me and let me get over him. So we ended it over a misunderstanding.

Three weeks later in an incredibly romantic gesture, he flew to see me and took me to dinner and begged me to come back to him. And I….refused. What the flying fuck? I was already in a new relationship-dating a terrible person-really, not a good guy-but my pride was in the way and I couldn’t get past my anger and hurt. I was so hurt. And I sent him back to Washington alone. Then when I broke up with the loser/terrible guy, I emailed Washington boy (for years…even THIS year)  and begged him to come back. He told me he didn’t love me romantically anymore and now he doesn’t even respond to my emails.

At least my tragic love life makes for GREAT stories, right? For a writer that’s awesome. I should really pat myself on the back for taking so many broken hearts for society.
So after reliving the Washington memories, there’s already this feeling of “Is it doomed?” with this long distance relationship. I mean–someone has to move or it’s just not going to go anywhere. I love where I live and life is awesome here–except I don’t have him. And he loves his school and he’s doing fucking amazing there. He can’t move here.

Maybe I’m already preparing myself for the broken heart because I know they hurt so bad and in my life, they are inevitable. The thing that sucks about this time is that no matter how much I try to numb myself, it’s happening. I can’t help it. I’m litterally trying to protect myself but he hooked me already–in the first few weeks. The romantic things that were said and done left me feeling things for him that I haven’t felt since Washington. And it’s been several years since then-sure I’ve had relationships since then. But it’s been a very long time since I’ve felt something this sincere and this deep. In fact, I literally am in tears all day today and I can’t help but think it’s because of him/this. The helplessness I feel because I’m falling and I can’t stop. I can’t protect myself.

And then there’s this one small detail. Where he lives. He lives in the South, but not just anywhere. He lives where the bane of my existence lives. My Lex Luthor as one friend put it. The whole incident that inspired this blog–living in a cult. It happened in his city in Louisiana. And the only thoughts I have of that place are nightmares and memories of me wanting to kill myself. So, as if long distance relationships aren’t hard enough, there’s that one small detail-his location-that has had me tense for weeks.

Life is so ironic sometimes and love leaves no prisoners.

“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.”

(quote and photo from Facebook)

The “List”

I know I’ve written about the shitty “list” that they made us write in church back in the day. In case you forgot, our pastor’s wife suggested we write a list of the ideal husband and pin it to our wall and pray over it. That’s so ’50s. At seventeen (and even again at eighteen), my list was absurd. I have it and I’m sure as hell not going to share it here. But let’s just say it was ridiculous. (I will say that I was dumb enough to put “he must love chocolate” on the list. What the ever loving fuck? lol) Even worse, since I didn’t have as much experience dating anyone, I was totally unreasonable in my list. Once you have a few real relationships under your belt you realize that some expectations are just absurd, and some traits are ‘nice to have’ but no one is a robot. You might get what you want and you might just fall in love with someone totally different than you expected to. No big deal.

I’m bringing the list back up though, because the other day my NOT-’50s friend S. said she just made a list of her ideal girlfriend. To be fair, she’s neither a pastor’s wife or really a religious person. Just a cool girl who was having some retrospective moments following a breakup with a girl who wasn’t really a good match for her. When she talked about some of the things her ex-girlfriend said to her over the breakup, I was pretty mad. So, for her, I’m a fan of the list for her.

I don’t really have a list but I started talking to her about things I like in dudes. I prefer to think of it less like a list and more like  ‘lessons I’ve learned along the way and why some guys just don’t do it for me’. Ha! Like the too-young guy. I’ve dated him before (quite a few times, actually!) and most of the too-young guys weren’t ready for any kind of serious relationship yet. They were still playing video games…over and over and over. Or living at home, or didn’t have a job. These aren’t really things some guys get over, though, so I’ve learned it’s not always about age. But there comes a point in a woman’s life when she has to date a man, otherwise the relationship is a lot like caring for a puppy. Mostly, I’ve just learned it’s best to spend a lot of time getting to know someone before getting too committed, no matter how old they are.

When I was younger I HAD to date a Christian guy. Just had to. Or I’d…die? I don’t know what the threat was there. I think it helps if people have similar values and morals, but they don’t have to be the same religion for that to happen. After I became atheist, I thought I only had to date atheist and agnostic guys, but then I dated atheist and agnostic guys. We had a lot in common and a lot to talk about, but I’m much more complex than just my lack of beliefs and experiences in church. At some point this year, I got over my anger and anxiety about uber-religious people and realized that there were some very cool, laid back Christian guys I could date. I almost hate to admit it, but some of the Christian guys I dated were actually some of the most romantic, most caring guys I’d dated. (On the other hand, some of them were the biggest jerks…so it goes to show you that being an asshole isn’t just reserved for certain religions or lack thereof.)

Politics are another thing I’ve kind of been adamant about but now I’m more flexible. I was really into politics for about two years there, but I spent most of my life as a moderate. I enjoy life around moderates much more than around extremists when it comes to politics. Mostly because you can’t get a word in edgewise when someone is very political and they think they’re right…all the damn time. I hold fast to the idea that you’re allowed to change your mind when you get new information and I feel like political views should be a lot more flexible than they are.

I wish I could say I’m the kind of girl who has a specific type, but I really don’t. Sometimes I’ve dated really insecure guys and they freak out and question me. DON’T YOU HAVE A ‘TYPE’, WOMAN? I KNOW I’M NOT IT! To me, it’s less about a type and more about the person: how much they love you, how much they respect you, how much they challenge you to be a better person, how much you trust them and mostly how they treat you.

To be honest, I’ve fallen hardest for friends and that’s why I think developing a really deep connection via friendship is much more important than passion or sex. There’s something incredibly intoxicating about becoming so close to someone, and knowing they are an incredibly authentic person in every way possible, and then one day just waking up to find out you love them. It doesn’t happen all the time and to be honest, it’s also as scary as it is intoxicating. After all, they know your flaws and insecurities and your biggest fears, so if anyone could judge you or use that against you, they could. But because you both care about each other, you know they’ll support you instead of tear you down and you know they understand you well enough to believe the best of you.

So, the specifics? Race? Don’t care. Height? Don’t care. Hair? Who cares? Weight? I like it all. Buff guys are usually assholes, though, so I try not to get too attached there. Sorry. I’m more of the kind of person who falls in love with someone’s personality first and I actually think chubby guys are really hot.

Probably my only real criteria is that I’m challenged intellectually by the person. That doesn’t mean he’s smarter than me–maybe smarter in different ways, or maybe not. But someone who makes me think and encourages me to learn. I’m invigorated by learning new things, the more complex the better. Whether it’s philosophy or coding, I just find intellectualism very hot. Very. Hot. Very.

Do you have a ‘list’? Share it with me below or email me. I’d love to hear your take on this subject. Or, if you’re boring and married (JK), did you have a list? Or did you just know?

That Awkward Moment When I Realize I AM the Overly Attached Girlfriend

You’ve heard of the overly attached girlfriend meme, right? No? What do you do with your free time (ahem, not Internet, apparently)?!

Over the course of the past year, I’ve realized I may lean more toward the overly attached girlfriend than the “normal” girlfriend. I’ve had two people dump me in the past year by saying something along the lines of, “You talk about marriage and babies way too soon.” AKA, EVER! Men just can’t deal with commitment or marriage/babies talk.

I’m not quite this bad:

 

 

 

 

 

But I have done stuff like this (maybe last week):

 

 

 

 

Last week was when I realized I was way too overly attached INSTANTLY. It happened when I started dating (aka went on one date and then he was over it) a really short guy, who on the first date, told me he wanted to have kids within the next five years (So? What’s your point? I thought. If you’d taken me to the Holiday Inn, I could’ve done something about that, but I’m eating a salad now.) Later that weekend, I told my friend and her husband that he said this over lunch and my friends husbands eyes got so big from surprise. Mental note: apparently that’s weird. (But I didn’t quite think so, because I’d have done the same thing)

I suppose I didn’t think it was weird because I’m worse. If I’m not engaged by week three, I start the crazy, obsessive girl diatribe.

What? You don’t LOVE me? I say.

If you really loved me, you would want to be with me forever–like Mormons do.  

Ugh, I just want to settle down. My cats need a father. It’s what they’ve been MISSING in life.

I’m crazy and no one LOVESSSSSS me.

I carry on like this for a few months or until they dump me. It’s true. Men just can’t handle this–not even short, gamer nerds who are just as bad.

The truth is, therapy is fucking expensive. I know I have daddy issues, being raised with an alcoholic issues, abandonment issues, and dozens more. I know I do, although the revelation has just become apparently. Did I mention therapy is expensive? Several hundred dollars a month!

I also have…committment issues. (See? I can’t even commit to a full sentence. I have to use ellipses.) When I was young, my mom and stepdad fought so long and often that they were constantly on the verge of getting a divorce. I think I was traumatized, so I’ve never been able to commit. It’s weird–I want to be in a relationship for the companionship but I have rarely been able to picture my life with any of the guys I’ve dated. In fact, at this point in my life I don’t want to be married and I certainly won’t do so without a pre-nup.

Recently, my parents decided to officially split up. It’s been a really rough past few months, and I’m not sure why but it really hit me hard. My initial reaction was, Damn, I definitely don’t want to get married now. Now it’s more like, I’m 31 and have never been married and now I’ve got so many issues I’m going to end up alone. People keep saying, “Oh, well at least you’re older. It won’t affect you.” But the truth is, I’m incredibly sensitive and it does affect me. I mean, my family is falling apart.

I’m way too honest on the Internet.  And in real life. And on first dates.

I also sleep with people on the first date (usually, except not with ugly people). I know society has this rule that most people follow and I had an asshole friend tell me that this short dude probably dumped me because I slept with him on the first date and he thought I was a floozy, but you know what? I don’t care. I am not interested in playing games. If I like someone, and I want to sleep with them, then I will. And then I’ll cry if they don’t fall in love with me immediately.

 

This weekend, I watched Young Adult with Charlize Theron. And then I wanted to  kill myself because Mavis, the main character, really reminded me of myself. She’s got the perfect life in every way possible with the exception of her love life. She’s also always unhappy and suffers from depression (although, aren’t those two things often interconnected? being unhappy and depressed?). She’s essentially a train wreck and a bit lot like me. So she goes back to her hometown to look up her ex boyfriend and try to get back together with him, because, of course, he must love her and want to be with her.

Not that I’ve done this recently. Ahem. Okay, I can’t lie. I’ve looked up an ex boyfriend recently. Whatever.

My point is, I can’t tell what’s wrong with me anymore. I’m sick of everything and everyone, and I can’t tell if I’m actually fucked up or if I’m just doing the depressed thing where I feel guilty about everything and can’t be nice to myself. If you’ve ever read William Styron’s book Darkness Visible, he’s got a great line in there about how depression is about self-hatred. This is more true than you’ll ever know.

I don’t really know how to “fix” this whole overly attached thing, and I think to compound issues I don’t think I’m meeting the right guys anymore. I keep doing that pet project thing, where I date people who are fucked up in some way and I want to help them. I don’t know if I realized I was doing that until I met a dude like me (ambitious, has their shit together, etc) and I was really attracted to this person. Attracted to them in such a way that felt right and felt like I would be comfortable being myself around them and not wondering if my opinions or success would offend them. That was a nice feeling. (Damn, I really have been settling.)

My family has been trying to tell me for years that I’ve been dating beneath what I should be and that I’ve been settling. Of course I ignored them. What do they know? I think I’ve inadvertently been dating ugly dudes or unsuccessful dudes thinking…and this sounds terrible…that they won’t leave me because they’ll never find anything better. Too honest? Oh well. I was proved wrong years ago, when I dated someone so embarrassingly ugly and he cheated on me with his ex-girlfriend. Even ugly people can be assholes.

So, I’ve written this blog post with you in mind. To those of you who know that EVERYTHING in my life is going stellar: I have a fucking fantastic job, some TV shit going on, a book that’s been requested by some great publishers, and I live in one of the most amazing areas of Southern California. And just to brag for a second: everything I put my mind to doing, gets done (and done well). I’m on a bit of a professional high–shit is coming together in ways I never thought it would. But, I wanted to let you know that even with a near-perfect life, one thing hasn’t ever been perfect–my love life. And I seriously doubt it ever will. So, when I’m sitting on the beach drinking a beer or talking to my agent about future projects and you’re stuck with crying children or a smelly husband, just remember this post. And take joy in the fact that even when I’m rich and famous, I’ll still be alone…

Except for the hot sex I’m having with my boy toy.

 

 

Kim K Splits from Hubby

Kim Kardashian filed divorce papers today from Kris Humphries stating “irreconcilable differences”. I keep up with the Kardashians, so this was surprising. Not that I’m really surprised, because I think money and fame (and insanely perfect looks) can really make it difficult to have the kind of uncomplicated relationships us normal people have (in comparison).

The sad news? Kris Humphries on the divorce: “I love my wife and am devastated to learn she filed for divorce. I’m committed to this marriage and everything this covenant represents. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work.”

Aw, I feel bad for the guy.

 

Babies

Awww, the baby!

 

I’m going through a baby craze right now.

I’m 30.

I’m not married.

I make money, and am working steadily toward reaching some of my life-long ambitions.

So, what is it about babies that are so intriguing to me right now?

They throw up on you. They wake you up in the middle of the night. You can’t just carry them around like a purse and set them down. You actually have to keep up with them. Not like my cat, which is pretty independent when I’m at work. I don’t need a cat sitter. I have a litter box and a few toys for him.

Babies aren’t cats.

Sometimes I psychoanalyze myself. With the marriage and babies thing, I’ve come up with this: maybe the reason I want a home with a husband and a baby right now is that I was involved in a group (Master’s Commission/Our Savior’s Church) that summed up womanhood into two activities:

motherhood

and

marriage.

Maybe that’s not it. But, it’s probably a significant portion of my obsession with marriage and babies.

Waiting to Get Married

My dating life has gone through a radical change.

I used to date Christians only. They had to be super spiritual, really love Jesus and read the Bible a lot. Past that, I don’t know if I considered much else.

Now, I date men who are not religious, respect me as a woman, and can handle a saucy woman. Sauc-y!

When I was still into uber Christian men, the only thing I wanted to do was walk down the aisle and pop out some little chickadees of my own. Maybe decorate my house, too. Oh, and collect tea cups.

I never gave myself the time to discover my own hobbies, my likes and dislikes, if I liked fried eggs or boiled eggs or poached eggs. (Notting Hill reference, 🙂 )

I was waiting. A Lady in Waiting, as a book I once read called it. One of those women who was waiting for my Prince Charming to come sweep me off my feet and solve all my problems and take away my loneliness. Waiting for a spouse to COMPLETE MY LIFE.

Until I found my spouse, there was nothing worth living for.

Eventually, I decided that was unrealistic, kind of co-dependent and desperate.

I had to become the  tYpE of            person who

a) was happy and <3 in love <3 with MYself

b) solved my own problems

c) resolved my own feelings of loneliness by creating hobbies, other friends and things that would keep my active mind going.