Tag Archives: thoughts

What’s different

I’ve always, always, needed my own time.  Space, Me Time, time not spent together.  Time and space to breathe, to be alone with my thoughts, to not have to work on The Relationship.  That’s one of things I enjoyed about my relationship with The Pilot – I had all the Me Time I needed, and I didn’t have to feel guilty about not spending time with him.  Even with family and close friends, there’s only so much time I can spend with them before needing to breathe.

But this relationship…it’s different.  We’re together all the time, and I enjoy it.  I don’t need space.  I can breathe just fine.  I have yet to need time apart.

I’m generally an introvert, unless I’m around my friends.  I’m quiet, go with the flow, reserved.  I’ve almost always dated men more outgoing than me – probably due mostly to the fact that two introverts have a hard time meeting each other, since neither are really putting themselves out there.  I’ve relied on these men to get me out of the house, do things, make me meet new people.

But this relationship…it’s different.  He’s more of an introvert than me.  I’m the one getting us out, getting us to do things, making him meet new people.  It’s been interesting.  And even though he’s an introvert, he’s totally into meeting new people and doing new things – I don’t want to make it sound like he’s anti-social, that’s not it at all.  I’ve come to realize the Space thing and the Social thing are connected.  Introverts need time to “recharge” after social encounters.  Before, I needed that recharging time, which is why I needed my space, but now, since our social time is planned more by me, I can plan it on my own social needs, and recharge when I need to – all without the pressure to still be “on.”  Interesting, huh?

I hate to say it too loud, because it feels like I’m rubbing it in or gloating or something.  I know if I had read what I’m about to write before him, I would roll my eyes and look for a trashbasket to hurl in.  But…

This guy is amazing.  He’s awesome.  He’s not perfect, there’s a couple of things he does that drive me crazy, but overall…yeah, he rocks.  He holds my car door – every single time.  He helps me on with my jacket.  He makes me laugh, and I make him laugh.  He does so much for me, from getting me a glass of water to building a cat box cabinet to taking me to a nice dinner out.  We don’t fight, because he’s more laid back than me and usually will do whatever I want (and by that I mean go to the restaurant I want to go to, see the movie I want to see, go hiking when I want to go hiking, etc – I don’t want to imply that he just blindly follows me around like a puppy dog, because that’s not it at all).

Ladies, he even follows me around the clothing store and holds the clothes I’m going to buy or try on.  I don’t ask – he just holds his hand out and expects to carry them.  (He will not, however, hold my purse – and I’m okay with that.)

It’s funny, sometimes, how things work.  You know, we grew up less than 30 miles away from each other, in Texas?  And we both moved around a bit and ended up here, 1000+ miles away from Texas, and then we met.  And now it looks like we’ll be moving 4500 miles away from here, this time with each other.

 

(Did you like how I didn’t mention how long it’s been since I blogged?  How I didn’t apologize for that?  Did you notice?)  🙂

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I should be blogging

I should be, I really, really should be.

I even have a rare free evening tonight.  No plans with friends or with The Beau.  No working late.  Most evenings, when I’m not busy, I work out, which for some reason takes far more time than it should.  Get home, feed the cat, do a couple things around the house, then it’s 7pm and I finally get on the treadmill.  An hour there, then stretch, cool down, wind down, and it’s already 9pm.

But no workout tonight, since I had a laser treatment today and am not supposed exercise afterward.

What to do, what to do…

I could blog!

Or, I could make Bacon Caramels!

Okay, Bacon Caramels are done, now I can blog.

Or, I could finish sewing an eyemask!

Okay, done with that, now I can blog.

Or, I could watch the Bacon Caramels set!  (Hurry, set, hurry, so I can eat one.)

Oh, crap.  It’s after 10.

Maybe I’ll blog tomorrow…

The Bucket List

Everyone has one, whether it’s written down or not.  That list of things you want to do, before you’re 30, 40, 50, 60.  Before you die.  Visit Paris.  Go skinny dipping. Sing karaoke.  Be a contestant on The Price Is Right.  We are so focused on living a life worth living that I think sometimes we don’t realize how much we’ve already done.

Personally, I want to do everything.  If I actually put everything I want to do on a list, I’d realize I couldn’t possibly do it all.  All the places I want to go, things I want to see and do – narrowing it down seems counter-intuitive to the entire idea.

Doesn’t mean I haven’t done it.

And some of it is kind of silly.

Take, for example, this item on my list:  Kiss under the fireworks.

Spectacular Kiss

Image by Lars Preben Sørsdahl via Flickr

At 35, I’ve never been kissed under fireworks.  I don’t know why it appeals to me so much, but it does.  Every time a holiday featuring fireworks comes around, I think about it.  I guess because I think of it as being so romantic.

Silly, right?

Last year, I went to see fireworks with Sly.  It was our 3rd date, and we had yet to kiss.  I had pretty much decided that I wasn’t interested in a relationship with him, but I thought this would be a chance to get my fireworks kiss.

But was it worth it?  Would that be selling out?  Would my Bucket List moment be memorable only because it shouldn’t be?  Like losing your virginity and wishing you could take it back?  In the end, the kiss didn’t happen.

Fast forward a year.  I’m with a wonderful man, who will grant damn near my every wish, including watching fireworks even though he couldn’t care less.  This weekend, with a fireworks show every night for four straight nights, we had our choice of shows.

Friday, we were both exhausted and decided to veg for the night.  Saturday we ran errands (mine) all day, got back to his place, and crashed.  Sunday we were on the boat all day, and we were beat.  All three nights we were asleep by 10pm.  Oh, yeah, we’re big partiers.

So Monday, we decided to go out to the Whitewater Center.  We did a flatwater kayak, then went to the car to get our clothes to change. The plan was, change, put our names in to eat, walk around a bit, eat, walk around a bit more, sit down have a beer, and watch fireworks.  But a storm was rolling in, so we decided to wait it out in the car prior to changing.

An hour and a half later, it was still raining, and we gave up and went home.

So once again, no kiss under fireworks.  And yes, I was disappointed.  And the truth is, I could have had it last night if I really pushed it.  He would have stayed, because I wanted to.  But at what point are you pushing too hard to make something that should happen naturally happen?

This man is amazing.  I don’t need kisses under fireworks.

But yes, I still want them.

What silly item is on your bucket list?

Better off?

I’ve heard it said that most people are better off after a layoff.  They’re happier, they have a better job, and they’re richer, if not in monetary terms then in life.

While I was upset I was laid off, I was also excited.  It was a kick to the butt.  It was the shoehorn needed to get me out of the company I was at for seven years.  I was going to write a book, find a better job, make more money.

Well, I did get some writing done, but not as much as I wanted.  I found a job, but is it better?  I’m not getting paid more, and in fact, considering the lack of benefits, am being paid less.  And it’s a contract job, so I have, essentially, more guaranteed unemployment to look forward to at the end of the contract term.

I don’t love this job or this company more than my old one at this point.  Did I love my old job?  No, but I did enjoy most of it, and there were still things I felt I could learn.  I knew the company wasn’t the best, but leaving means taking your chances on another, unknown entity.

The company I’m with now is a great company, and if I were full time permanent I would be ecstatic.  But I’m not.  I am, regardless of anything else, a second-class citizen.

It’s what you make of it, I know.  And I’m trying to make the best of it.  But right now?  No, I don’t feel that I’m better off.

Choose Your Own Adventure (via The Other Side of 55)

I used to love CYOA books, but no one else seems to remember them. I’ve written before about the road map of our life, and how if *A* hadn’t happened, then *B* and *C* wouldn’t have happened.  I’ve recently wondered how difficult it would be to write my own CYOA book – this post makes me really want to tackle it.  What if I had picked the other option in each major decision I’ve made?  Would I still have ended up here?

Choose Your Own Adventure Do you ever play the ‘What if?’ game with yourself?  You know the one I mean – “What if I’d travelled instead of going to college right out of high school?”  “What if I hadn’t married my high school sweetheart?” “What if I’d hung on to that cute little house [that’s now worth almost a million dollars]?” “What if I’d taken that job in [some exotic location]?” “What if I hadn’t won the lottery?” (just kidding).  What if … What if … What if … … Read More

via The Other Side of 55

The quality of men on OkCupid

After years of online dating, I have been regularly disappointed by about 90% of the men I’ve come across.  I have bitched about it more than a few times on this blog – horrible profiles, crappy pictures, awkward dates, boring men, awful emails, odd phone conversations, kinky sexting, discourteous men…I could go on and on.

As I discussed in my last post (or was it the post before that?), I have avoided free online dating sites.  I figured, if men who are paying for a site can’t put forth the effort to write a good profile or email, what can the free sites possibly hold?

Well, evidently they can hold a lot, or at least OkCupid does.  I received a few emails (not winks!), and I was immediately impressed by the length and depth (and good grammar and spelling!) of the emails I received.  Upon visiting the profiles, I was again impressed, for the same reasons.  Long, detailed, well-written profiles.  Who woulda thunk it?!  In all, I would say about 90% of the profiles I viewed (both men who emailed me and men I found with a search) were awesome.  Complete opposite of what I was used to, and a complete surprise.

Were all of them what I was looking for?  No, of course not.  But I didn’t get any of the creepy emails I was expecting, no propositions for illicit meetings, no scams or freaks.  The site wasn’t full of trolls.  I was…speechless.  I really couldn’t believe it.  You mean this free site was actually better than a pay site?  How much money have I spent over the years?!

You’re blogging wrong!

I love my blog.  It’s kind of my baby.  I admit to getting a little thrill from seeing my words in print.  But more than that, my blog is my release.  It’s my therapy, my way of getting my emotions and thoughts out of my head.  I love if people read it.  I love if something I write touches someone, makes them think, makes them feel less lonely.  And I love it even more if someone comments on my blog.  It gives me some validation.

I wouldn’t say my blog is “successful.”  I get plenty of hits, most of them random, hitting posts that I happened to keyword well.  I’ve looked at all the ways to get more people to my blog, to get more hits, more regular readers, more comments, more publication.  I’ve read numerous articles on how to blog successfully, and I know what’s “good” and what’s “bad.”

Doesn’t mean I want to do it on mine, and it especially doesn’t mean I want to annoy people with the things that annoy me.

For instance:

I know that when linking, it’s best to have a parent link – that is, a link that opens a new window (like this).  This is best because it keeps people on your page.  If you have a blank link – one that opens in the same window (like this) – the reader has to use the back button to get back to your blog.  Obviously, you want to keep people on your page, not drive them away from it.  But it annoys me when that happens to me, so I rarely do it.  I evaluate each link, the likelihood of a reader clicking on it, of coming back to my blog, and I will do a parent link occasionally.  But usually, I don’t.

The best thing to do is have a limited RSS feed.  You give the reader a little sample, but force them to view the full page to read the full post.  Obviously, it is easier to get comments on a post if the person is on your page, rather than reading on a feed.  If they can read the full post on a feed, it takes extra effort to come to the blog and comment, so it has to be something they really want to comment on.  I get it.  But it annoys me when I can’t see the full post in a feed.  I’m actually less likely to come over to the blog.  So I don’t limit my feed.

Every “Blog Success” article I read says “Have a niche.”  SewingSouthern PeopleDatingMotherhoodLegal mattersPhotography.  And while at times my blog could be classified as a Dating Blog, it’s really not.  It’s my life.  It’s what I’m thinking now, today, about this, or that.  It’s how I feel, and more importantly, it’s how I think.   I admit, I’m scattered.  My brain is usually in twenty different places at once.  I sit down to meditate, and I’ll have words coming out of my mouth, but I’m thinking about what I saw on TV last night, and I’m wondering how the cat is doing and if his new food is working, and I’m conscious of the fact that the neighbor is doing laundry and there’s a stray cat walking by outside, and will my cat see him?

I saw something the other day that said most blogs fail because all you talk about is yourself.  But…that’s kind of the point, right?  I mean, yes, there are great blogs out there that are as informative as CNN, Wikipedia, and Youtube put together, with quality, usable information.  But the whole point of a blog is an online diary.  That’s kinda how it started.  This is my life.  Deal with it.  Of course I want you to read it, and obviously I expect you to enjoy certain posts more than others.  But I don’t want to “niche” myself, why would I “niche” my blog?  I don’t have a focus in my life, why would I have one on my blog?  Which, of course,  begs the observation, “Maybe if you had focus on your blog, you would have focus in your life.”  Yeah, whatever.  Bite me.  😉

They like me! They really like me!

A couple of weeks ago, I was approached to do a guest blog.

Yes, me.

I was honored.  Surprised.  Amazed.  Stunned.  Excited.

And scared.

Actually, I wasn’t scared until I suddenly couldn’t form any coherent thoughts on the subject of choice (dating).  I could not come up with any words.

But I finally did it.  Two hours in a mechanic’s waiting room was all I needed.  Must have been the oil fumes.

You can read my post, What’s in a match.com username, on Life in 3D.  Stick around to read some great posts from Charlotte J.

And thank you, Life in 3D people, for choosing me!

Just another day in loveless land

You know what’s odd?  This is the first Valentine’s Day in…a very long time…that I don’t feel like I’m missing out.  That I don’t feel like drinking a bottle of wine and eating a whole box of chocolates all by myself.  Today I am quite content.  Although I’ve told myself almost every year that it’s just another day, this year it actually is.  It’s just another day.

I haven’t always been alone on Valentine’s Day, but I don’t really recall having any truly special ones with someone.  I know that most years when I’ve been alone, I’ve planned activities for myself, including a movie, a bubble bath, champagne, a nice dinner, all by myself, in an effort to make myself feel like I’m not missing out.  Of course, those things didn’t really do their job – I was still alone, and I knew it.

Maybe it’s because this year, I haven’t left the house much or been around people.  There’s not 20 coworkers asking what I will be doing, feeling sorry for me because I’ll be alone, and getting ridiculously overpriced bouquets of incredibly original red roses delivered.  Tivo is the best invention ever, because I fast forward through most commercials, so that my Kay/Jared/FTD/CBS Cares Valentine’s Day reminders are kept to a minimum.  The constant bombardment of Valentine’s Day reminders has been at a minimum.  And I kind of love it.

I started thinking about my Ghosts of Valentine’s Days Past.  I’ve written about a few here before, but I thought it’d be fun to make a list.

  • 2010 – Mental Breakdown.
  • 2009 – I was more than likely alone, as The Pilot was more than likely working.  I remember getting a Valentine’s Day card about a week later…he had it in a book, but hadn’t filled it out yet, so I sat next to him while he wrote some nice words in it, put it in the envelope, and sealed it.
  • 2008 – I was dating Scottsdale, and he took me to a nice steak restaurant in town, but didn’t really treat it as Valentine’s Day, just as dinner out, which was fine by me, since we weren’t quite dating seriously at that point.  He also mailed me a card, which I thought was kind of cute.
  • 2007 – Pretty sure I was alone.
  • 2006 – Pretty sure I was hating life.  Soccer Guy and I had broken up in December, and I know I wasn’t over him yet.
  • 2005 – Quite sure I was alone, as I hadn’t started my joyous adventure of online dating yet.
  • 2004 – Alone.  Bitterly alone, in Denver, after Denver Boyfriend and I broke up.  I do remember a wonderful bottle of White Star champagne, though…back when I could afford $50 bottles of champagne on a fairly regular basis.
  • 2003 – The life changing one.  I drove into Denver just in time to celebrate the evening with Denver Boyfriend.  I was starving, he hadn’t made any reservations, and after an hour of searching for a place to eat without a two hour wait, we ended up at a Mexican restaurant.  If that had been a wait, we would have ended up at McDonalds.

Everything before 2003 is a blur.  I’m sure I was alone for most Valentine’s Days pre-2003, because I simply didn’t date much.  I’m fairly certain I had a boyfriend for 1995, but other than that, I can’t say anything for sure.

Here’s the thing.  Even if I was in the perfect relationship with the perfect guy, I would not expect the moon today.  A nice dinner prepared by him (or some take-out), some wine, some candles, maybe a small bouquet of tulips or lilies, and I would be happy.  I’m a fairly simple girl.  I don’t want roses.  I don’t need grand gestures.  I don’t want the guy to fork out hundreds of dollars on gifts meant to prove his love.

I just want the love.

And until I have it, the good kind of love, I’m okay.  Even though sometimes I might not feel okay, I know, deep down, that I am.

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights – The Movie

I just read Wuthering Heights, and I hated almost every minute of it.  I also watched the 1970 version of the movie, with Timothy Dalton, and found it…equally as painful, and not much like the book.  I read that this version of the movie was “generally accepted,” and since I found both this movie and the book painful, I could agree with that.

For some reason, I was eager to torture myself further, so I ordered the 1992 movie adaptation, entitled Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, starring Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche.  According to wikipedia, this version “is notable for including the oft-omitted second generation story”  of Cathy Linton and Hareton.

Watching it, I was reminded that I was incorrect in my original review of the book.  I said that the only character I liked was young Cathy, but I was wrong.

I loved Hareton.

I forgot about Hareton, in my original review.  I felt sorry for the poor kid, throughout the book, and toward the end, I had a little soft spot for him.  It was quite obvious he was infatuated with young Cathy, in the way that the kid who pulls a girl’s pigtails is.  He wanted so much to please her, to make her like him, and when she rebuffed him, he reacted as if he didn’t care.

But he did.

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights captured that, and reminded me:

I *heart* Hareton.

Screw Heathcliff.

If Wuthering Heights had a redeeming quality, it would be Hareton.  He’s the early 19th Century version of Lloyd Dobler.