Do you guys miss that time in your life when you’re in your 20s and unbelievably single? You don’t have to answer to anyone except your boss and bills.
Of course, your love life may be more dramatic than you’d like. Do you really know what love is? Do you even want to know?
Nashville duo, John and Joe, have a new single, “Honeyman.” It is a bit reminiscent of “Footloose,” which I love.
They wonder if it’s worth it to be committed to someone who may not be that into you. You might not be that into them either. Commitment is no joke. Sometimes, I can’t even commit to my cup of coffee and I love coffee.
My favorite phrase lately is “I’m not married to it.” I’m not married to a daily routine, my job or the bathroom decor. I was married once. Why do people get married anyway? Commitment is not for everyone I guess.
Check out John and Joe’s single on soundcloud or YouTube.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you . . .
– It’s the 7th anniversary with the boyfriend. He bought me some rum. I bought him bacon. It’s probably why we have made it this long.
-The pipes froze. Again.
This is what it looked like at sunrise today.
– I’m still working midnights. I will probably never love my job. It’s a means to an end.
– I may have farted in someone’s general direction. She has really bad body odor and attention-seeking behavior. There could be a connection. Anyway, I did not feel bad about the gas. I’m just trying to survive the body odor and the fact that i have to wear an ugly apron and safety goggles.
-If the pipes don’t unfreeze, I will also have an issue with body odor. Not to mention the gas issue.
-I bought some Dunkin Donuts coffee creamer. Caramel. Mmmm. Hoping it’s good.
-My mom is back from vacation. There will be a trip to see her soon.
-What are you doing!?
Check out more Weekend Coffee Share posts at Part-Time Monster’s link-up.
The boyfriend and I were having our once-every-few-years conversation about marriage. It’s more of a conversation about not getting married. Really it’s about keeping promises or our ability to not keep promises.
He used to be very deterred by the fact that I’ve been divorced. Also, I don’t feel especially bad about the divorce. To him, it means that I don’t feel bad about breaking my promise to stay married to my ex. It’s true. I do not feel bad. Divorce sucks but so would staying married to my ex. Besides, if I stayed with my ex, I wouldn’t be with the current boyfriend and that would really be terrible.
It doesn’t seem to matter that I’ve only been divorced once. The promise was still broken. My grandma was married four times. We know people that were on their fourth wife before they reached the age of 40. I feel like I’m doing alright in the marriage/divorce department.
We also discussed the idea that if we get married that one of us won’t be able to keep our promise.
I don’t remember who brought up pinky swears. I know that I said I only pinky swear with my kids and only something that I know I can promise for sure.
This is the furthest that we’ve ever gotten in the conversation. There is a reason that we only discuss it once in a blue moon: one of us feels defensive. Tempers flare, again, just the one temper. Still, the conversation always screeches to a halt and one of us doesn’t talk for several hours about anything. (i.e. I feel on the defensive about being a promise breaker. I get pissed off. Then I don’t want to talk about marriage for another two years.)
We talked about commitment. We’ve been together for almost 7 years. I asked if he was committed to me. Clearly, he is. Then I wondered what was really keeping us from getting legally married.
Then he brought up spirituality and being together in the afterlife. I was honestly stumped. Spirituality is one of those topics that brings out the awkward in me. The thing we don’t know is what spiritual being are we saying is cool enough to be involved in a wedding ceremony. The five winds? I’m voting for a Hawaiian God in case we have a destination wedding.
The Afterlife? Together forever and ever in the afterlife. Seven years is the longest that I’ve ever been with anybody. Do I have what it takes to be together with someone for eternity?
I asked if that meant I couldn’t make out with dudes in the nursing home if he dies first. He said it was okay but I have to stop seeing them after I die. There will be no flirting in the afterlife.
Then he said, “This should be a blog post.”This is when I definitely knew that our chat would not end badly.
Sometime in the conversation, he wanted me to take a picture of his pinky. Howevre, there were no pinky swears made that day.
I think it’s progress. I can totally see us getting married in another five years. It will take that long for us to get through the spirituality conversation. Apparently, Thor is not an option for our spiritual being at the wedding. I asked already.
Write about the one X that got away — a person, an experience, a place you wanted to visit. How much would you change about your life to have it within reach again?
Wow! What a difficult question!
For a long time, I would have changed everything if it was possible to get back to that place and time. Everything! I would have stayed in the city that we lived in, instead of moving. We were on again off again for a year or so. At the time, I didn’t think that we were going to be on again. So I moved in with someone else.
He called me after I moved to ask me to move in with him. Worst timing ever. I should have accepted his offer, even if the other person that I moved in with would hated me forever. The second person would have gotten over it and married someone sooner or later. I eventually married and divorced the other person. So the second person hates me anyway so that would not have mattered.
I regretted not taking the risk for many years.
My life would have been different with him. We would have probably been happy but there aren’t guarantees.
I imagine that there would have been a life of writing, concerts, Chinese food and comic books. So sort of like now but in a city and maybe without children.
Then I met someone that changed my answer to the initial question. How much would I change to get back to that point? Nothing. I would not change anything if I still ended up here with my person.
The one that got away and I both have blogs on WordPress. I’m always tempted to tag him but I never do. I don’t follow him either. I looked at his blog today and felt like a creeper. I didn’t have any feelings like, “Oh, I miss him so much. I wish. I wish. I wish.” I just thought his blog looked nice. Progress.
I wrote this post about how his then girlfriend and now wife looks like me. So it’s like my doppelganger married the one that got away.
A long, long time ago, I was living in the city. I was a much less glamorous Carrie Bradshaw without so many friends. Something was missing from my life. I always thought it was love from someone else. It never was. The missing thing was fulfillment, self-love and knowledge of self-worth. It’s easier to say that I need to love myself than to actually do it. They don’t sell confidence at the store.
The path that I chose was usually wrong. I went with the popular vote instead of my instinct.
There was this guy. There’s always a guy, right?
He had long hair and fairly attractive. He seemed smart. My instinct said that he was a condescending asshole. Why don’t I ever listen to myself? I’m usually right so why not listen.
We made a date. He wanted to show me his art.
He was much more drunk than I realized. We were already on the highway before I noticed that he was totally lit. It was the first time that night that I thought that I was possibly going to die.
There was kissing. And then he bit me. I was freaked out. Biting is not my thing. Neither is hair-pulling. I couldn’t believe that he freaking bit me. No one has ever moved or shut down their friendliness faster than me at that moment. I can’t remember if he called me a bitch or not. Possibly.
Luckily, he was so drunk that he passed out within a few minutes.
Yet, I was stuck there – late at night, without a car, in a big city. It was the second time that I thought I could be in trouble. I had to walk to the main street in the dark. There really weren’t too many lights.
I had to either call someone to pick me up or walk to a friends house. I wished that I had more friends to call.
Someone answered their phone and saved my ass. I was lucky. Unbelievably lucky. It could have been so much worse
He did show me his art. I’m not an art critic but the magazine collage of “The Last Supper” was not impressive.
It probably won’t happen. I mean, I could find some pants and maybe a shirt. There are lots of clothes over there in the closet, which is not a real closet. It’s a rack with clothes.
Today, I don’t know if clothes will change my mood. If I put on that little black dress and pearl necklace will I feel like a likeable person?
Will people come over if I put on pants? Will I be more charming if I’m wearing clothes?
Nope. I will still be kind of chubby and socially awkward. It’s not likely to change anytime soon.
So screw that whole wearing clothes thing. I might as well walk around in my underwear and be totally vulnerable.
I don’t think I could be a complete nudist. Is there a “Walking Around in Your Underwear” group or commune. Do you think they would let me join their underwear party?
I wonder if my neighbors can see in the windows. It could be a conversation starter. Maybe they’ll bring wine or ice cream. I accept both.
Just saying, please come over so we can sit around in our underwear and eat ice cream. This could be interpreted as “I’m lonely and need more social interaction without wearing pants but also not totally naked.”
Also, please help me find my copy of “Magic Mike.” Channing Tatum has been my best friend this weekend.
P.S. If you think I have gone off the deep end, you’re probably right.
While I was homeless for a month, there were several thoughts that ran through my head on a daily basis. One theme kept popping up in unexpected places – Jonah and the Whale.
One day, Joel Osteen was talking about Jonah and the whale. I don’t watch Mr. Osteen very often. Okay, I had never watched his sermons before or since. However, that day I listened to his whole speech. Then I went on with the day.
At that time, my days were not filled with inspiration or any sort of happiness -not just because I was within days of sleeping on the streets. On top of the stress of being practically homeless and pregnant, I was still with my abuser.
Apparently, it’s very common for women and children to be homeless after leaving their abuser. I’m not sure how common it is for the abuser and victim to be homeless together.
My abuser and I moved from Ohio to Florida. It was my idea. It was part of a master plan to get my abuser away from my kids and I. I am not normally a liar but I lied in order to get him to go along with this idea of moving to Florida. Actually, I am a terrible liar because I can’t keep a straight face. I was Jonah and hooked this whale with my big fat lie.
Obviously, the plan was not going according to plan. It was not in the plan to end up homeless. I had two problems: no money and an abuser in my face 24/7. I was Jonah and could not get rid of this whale.
The second thing that happened that spoke to me was a woman from a church was giving her testimony. It was for me I had no doubt. Basically, she said, “Leave him. He is not for you.Go home.” I’m paraphrasing but that’s what I heard. It’s what I needed to hear again.
About a month into being homeless, a minister came to the homeless shelter to preach. Guess what his sermon was about that day? Jonah and the Whale. The point of his sermon was that some people have a whale. The whale could be drug addiction, insecurity or whatever is holding you back from really living a good life.
I knew it was time to leave for good. It was time to let go of my whale; otherwise, he was going to suck the last bit of life out of me and our unborn daughter.
I called the domestic violence shelters but they would not accept me because I was not officially a Florida resident yet. So it was time for me to put aside my few scraps of pride and call someone from back home.
My phone contact list consisted of all female names, in case my abuser looked through my phone. The only male on the list was my dad.
I made a phone call to Uncle Vicky the next day. Uncle Vicky was friends with my mom. My mom and I weren’t speaking. I didn’t call her because I was ashamed of being in this relationship. It was also important that I didn’t cry. My abuser was super suspicious of everything, even when it was nothing.
My mom, who is normally a kind, generous person, wanted to run over him with her car and rightly so. He brought nothing but destruction and toxicity to our lives. Also, I’m pretty sure he killed the cat when he threw a baseball at it.
Uncle Vicky and I made arrangements for me to come back to Ohio by the end of the week.
I left the whale at 3 a.m. in February 2008. He called every name in the phone that I left behind at 5 a.m.
I do not regret tricking him. I do not regret leaving him hundreds of miles from his family. The plan was a bit extreme but I would do it all again. It was something I felt truly led to do.
It was the beginning of a new life for me and youngest daughter. I had to rebuild every relationship that I had including my mom, my two older daughters and my dad. Nothing was easy when I returned but I’m glad I came home.
I am not so choosy about where I find friends. Well, that’s not exactly true, which is why I don’t have as many friends. You know, I don’t find friends on chat rooms anymore. I’m trying to make better life choices.
If I met someone at Wal-Mart tomorrow . . . I already know that I will be there tomorrow . . . then I would be okay with meeting friends there.
I still don’t make good life choices, do I?
Beggars can’t be choosers either. We moved to a small town so my options for finding people that like me and that I also like are a bit limited.
I’m also going to be at the library on the fourth Monday of every month. There will be people there. People who write.
Library cards don’t expire. True blue friendships don’t expire either.
So I’m going to reconnect with old friends and make a few new ones hopefully.
Dig through your couch cushions, your purse, or the floor of your car and look at the year printed on the first coin you find. What were you doing that year?
What was I doing in the year 2000?
circa Christmas 1999
It seems like a lifetime ago. I was living in Columbus, Ohio.
My relationship status was on/off/on/off. So I moved back home and moved in with my high school boyfriend. I must have been drinking too much or lonely or something. My life choices were terrible.
My choices in movies were better than my choices in men. “The Virgin Suicides” was one of my favorite movies that year.
Back in the year 2000, I really liked this song by Jagged Edge. I’m still not gettin’ any younger. In 2000, I was 26. Now I’m 40. Still not married.
While I appreciate all of the sexy messages that you send me on Instagram, I just cannot reciprocate the sexy messages.
It could be that you’re just sending me spam and you have no idea what I look like. That’s cool. I mean, spam isn’t cool but it’s what you do I guess.
You’re probably a really lovely person. Of course, you could be a 70 year old man with computer skills. Someone out there thinks that computer skills are sexy, right?
When you send me messages, I do smile. Then I feel a little bit guilty. Maybe I’ve led you on somehow. I smile too much. My eyes are too alluring.
The time has come to tell you the truth. I just don’t feel right leading you on any longer. Maybe after I tell you, you could stop sending me sexy spam messages. It would be a waste of your time and energy.
The truth is that I like men. I just can’t help it. It’s who I am.
P.S. My mom reads this blog. Please, don’t make me call out your sexy messages again. Thanks!
