Trade?

So, universe, what did I do that pleased you? Please let me know, so that I can do more of it. I’d hate to think it’s as painfully simple as trading one man from my life for another. Because, really, I lost two, so I should get at least one back, right? *sigh*

I may have spent the last few weeks mostly in NY, but these past two days here in Philly were two of the best yet. Truth be told, getting back into school was a little more difficult than I had anticipated, and I’m still not fully in it, but (thanks to Phil) I keep telling myself I want/ed to be here. Really, I do, and I don’t want to lose sight of that for one second just because I’d rather spend 100% of my time squeezing Stefan.  I won’t, and not just because spending 100% of your time with one person is a terrible idea. I didn’t apply to Post because I got into La Salle for a reason, and learning to spend four or five years in a long-distance relationship (provided PA doesn’t become more attractive in the future to my dearest) seems like it might make us appreciate each other even more, if that’s at all possible.

It’s the simple things: blogging as I’m watching Doogie Howser, M.D. after having a conversation about it being the first “blog” (which followed a much more meaningful conversation about reading my blog).

Simple things: finding so much pleasure in row after row, room after room, and floor after floor of antique books (things that would have made Charles happy seem to make Stefan exceptionally happy).

Simple things: dinner down the block-burgers, wings, beer and live music.

Simple things: watching impressionists on the internet, and somehow liking shows like Gold Rush: Alaska despite next to never opting to watch something like that when alone.

Simple(r) things: “you’ll get over it” as a response to my smoking the last cigarette in traffic, and “I’ll get over it” seconds later, after he tossed the empty pack out of the window of the car. (You had to be there. Like the “Whispering Woods” thing.)

Simple things: driving in a Venn Diagram just to get to the Salvation Army to drop off my ex-television.

Simple things: learning what he likes by watching him wander around a pen show or book store, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at his favorites.

Simple things: laying in bed. That’s all, just laying in bed together.

He let me cook breakfast, twice, pretended my cookies and coffee were good, and let me talk about all the silly shit that makes me nuts (like the whole cooking thing-suggesting something different and explaining the difference is exactly the way to do it, instead of standing over me and telling me what I’m doing “wrong”). Anything that has ever made me frustrated or upset or has made him annoyed or confused gets talked about, and I’m excited that I’m slowly getting more comfortable talking about how things make me feel and why. I used to have to do that stuff on my own, but knowing there’s someone who wants to hear it and won’t judge me but will actively utilize the knowledge as well as explain potential alternatives, is an absolutely amazing feeling. As I said earlier, I’ve never been in such a healthy relationship, and as I jotted down in my new Rhodia 2011 planner tonight, I’ve never loved anyone this way or this much in my life.

So would I trade this for anything else in the world? Not a chance.

Every Third Word.

I don’t remember where I wrote it, or who I talked to about it, or why I freaked out about it in the first place, but I recall a time (within the last five months or so) where I was incredibly uncomfortable using terms of endearment. I spent that time worrying that I couldn’t throw a “baby” back at a “honey” and that I’d forever feel awkwardly cold. And then with a snap of my fingers, I find myself paying attention to how ridiculously often those words fly out of my mouth: “aww, I’m sorry you have to deal with that, honey,” “good night, baby,” etc. And those are just the obvious examples. I’m comforted by the fact that I could find it again. The first time I shelved them in defensiveness was in the 2007-area, and I just assumed I’d never get the ability back. It felt fruitless the first few dozen times I tried, and nowt they’re uncontrollable. I wonder by what mechanism this changes comes about.

Things I (used to) Miss

One of the reasons I hate cleaning out the prior year’s documents from my crate is because every year I pull out one thing that brings back a flood of memories. This year it was the list I made when writing Rob the “please don’t let us really be over” letter (which I believe he never actually received). I wanted a ridiculously long “things I miss” list, to somehow prove our time together was memorable and worthwhile. Now I realize some of these were serious stretches, but at least I was trying, right?  So…without further ado, here is a list of things I once missed, and now could care less about:

– showers together
– falling asleep on the couch together
– playing with the back of your neck when you’re driving
– taking turns playing fetch with Leslie & Mousy
– picking up and making you eat dropped popcorn
– playing War (you stole my Queen, you liar!)
– kissing my head before you left for work after getting me my robe for when I got out of bed
– sunflower seed runs
– Smallville & popcorn nights
– shopping together
– making you dinners
– Conversation Cards
– wearing your t-shirts to bed
– rubbing your chest in bed
– bringing your glasses out in my bag and surprising you when you realized you forgot them
– Mad About You & King of Queens — a/k/a an accurate representation of our apartment/life together
– events, like Spamalot & concerts (i.e. Jack Johnson)
– running to the store to get me meds when I was randomly in pain
– going to see random bands in bars
– talking to strangers while laying on each other on the train
– walks over the BK bridge
– Tasti D Lite & the BK promenade
– trying to figure out whose “smell” that was
– making you coffee in the mornings for work
– Sunday morning lulls in conversation at grandpa’s house
– “It’s my turn!” (re: putting lotion on each other’s hands)
– fireworks from the roof
– listening for you to come home via the “listen” button to the street
– attacking me whenever I changed my clothes or came out of the shower
– the way you always just looked at me
– reading together
– trying (and failing) to rent porn together–embarrassing phone calls to Time Warner Cable
– kissing me when you or I got home from work
– making sure my alarm was set in the morning before you left
– being your alarm clock
– snuggling through two snoozes
– you trying to get into the kitchen while I was cooking after I kicked you out
– dollar store shopping
– trying to find me Taco Bell
– you playing with my hair
– helping you put outfits together
– 4th of July in Greenpoint, BK
– you licking my eye and my retaliation (licking your nipples, you jerk!)
– taking candid pictures of each other
– holding hands everywhere
– you always doing the dishes after I cooked dinner
– clinging to each other on the cot when sleeping at my mom’s
– buying you little random presents

Wow, Linda, you just summed up October 2004-February 2006. I had forgotten about a lot of those, but I smiled when I thought about the Promenade walks and how my robe was always at the bottom of the bed when I woke up. I don’t remember some of them, and some are things I still do, but some were things that were unique to Rob & I, and I think I like that. I also love looking back and thinking, “shit, that was my life.”  I was a wifey. I made dinner (and lunch) and coffee and I helped my man dress (because he couldn’t match a shirt to a pair of pants to save his life), but there was just enough love and romance (candid pics, taking turns being the big spoon through the snoozes, hitting the “listen” button waiting to hear his keys in the lock) to keep us together. But I wonder how many of those things were forced on him, and not what he would have chosen to do. I was so busy trying to change him into who I wanted him to be, that I lost the ability to love him for who he was. Hey, ya live, ya learn, right? Let’s hope so.

So with finding my list and posting it here, I am now throwing it out. I’ve no real hard feelings towards my ex and his baby momma (my ex-bff), but that chapter of my life is over, and out goes this piece of paper with closing that book. It was a good run, Rob, and I’m sorry I strung you along for so long because I wanted to be and loved being loved unconditionally. I didn’t know I could fall in love with someone who loved me as much as you once did, but lo and behold. The things I used to miss are now the things I am over.

Flashback, cold nights.

2011 seems to be the year of new beginnings, fresh starts, and the usual new year resolution excitement. For me, however, it’s been somewhat of a struggle. Couple natural hormone level changes with modifications to bad habits, diet and sleep schedule and you have one cranky bitch. Double it, and you have trouble in paradise. I’m surviving on the notion that there will be some sort of emotional payout or at the very least some form of homeostasis. But something’s gotta give, and soon, ’cause life feels very much like it did in November of ’08, only for different reasons. I have, however, started to shut my mouth to avoid getting snapped at. I don’t like this feeling. I feel meek and helpless and not a little angered by it. But I walk away. Because as long as I can remove myself from the situation, I can stay calm. Always. Almost always.

I bawled my eyes out for an hour yesterday because I don’t know how to make decisions (again). There’s more to this, in my opinion. How can I either be the most controlling psychopath in the world OR not able to decide on what to do, ever? I appear to flip-flop between them, but I don’t recall being so incapable of actual decision-making since high school, when Tony used to very patiently ask me to form opinions on things. As usual, being forced not to have opinions lest you get some spiteful parental response has plenty to do with it, but I also don’t recall having this big of a problem for quite some time.

And I’m being 100% contradictory to myself–I want the freedom to make decisions, but I don’t want to make the actual decisions. What the hell kind of twisted illogical bullshit is that? I mean, really. It’s generally always been fear of response to a decision that has kept me from making them in the past, but that seems so unlikely this time. I guess I could be wrong, though, not realizing that I’m still afraid of that.

I also don’t want things. This might be difficult to understand, despite it being rather cut-and-dry to me. I “could do” just about anything, and there are some things I definitely do not want to do, but most things, I just don’t care either way. And that’s evidently frustrating.

So added to my PMS, shift in sleep habits, smoking cessation attempt, healthy vocal hygiene and better eating habits, is now make more decisions. And yet I still can’t decide what I “want” to do tomorrow. Maybe I’ve just gotten so used to having to do things, I’ve forgotten how to want them? Nah, that still doesn’t affect why I can’t pick a restaurant or choose between accompanying someone to the store or not. I don’t know, but it better get better within the next week or so, or I’m going to smoke a pack of cigarettes while chugging a soda and scarfing on some spicy chicken nuggets at 4 in the morning. You better believe I’d rather be unhealthy than feel this shitty. But I vow to give it time.