It's been awhile since my last rant...

I don't think I will ever understand why guys stay in relationships with girls they claim to dislike/have nothing in common with/fight with constantly. My best guess is they stay for the sex. I know a few guys who give new meaning to the phrase "pussy-whipped"--"pussy-shackled to a wall and beaten to within an inch of their life on a daily basis" would be more accurate. But even this theory has been disproved by more than one guy I know who says because of all the fighting, they rarely even have sex anymore. So why stay? Because they're in love..... well that is ridiculous and stupid. I love (and have loved) plenty of people, but I don't go diving headfirst into a dysfunctional, co-dependent mess of a relationship with all of them. Love does not automatically equal compatibility and I think many people would be a lot happier if they would acknowledge this fact. Why do I care? If they weren't my friends, I wouldn't. But, the problem is, they involve me by using me as some sort of free therapist--constantly telling me about the myriad of problems they are experiencing with their girlfriends and how miserable they supposedly are. For example, the boy who broke my heart last summer and his girlfriend 'Bitchy McNotgoodenoughforhim' are always fighting and breaking up. Of course that's when I get to hear how mean she is, and how awesome I am. Well, guess what? I know I'm awesome, I don't need him to tell me that and I'm getting pretty damn tired of listening to all his crap one day, then seeing them make up and act all lovey-dovey the next. Fuck that. To him I say: if you aren't going to be honest with yourself about what you truly want, then I hope you enjoy your sex-filled, but otherwise unremarkable life with her.

Next month: A bake sale so I can go to Europe...

For years, I've been trying to simplify my life. I spent the majority of my teens and early 20's as a self-proclaimed pack-rat, but the more times I moved, the more annoyed I became with transporting all my cherished crap. I got pretty good at giving things away, and if I had any pack-rat tendencies remaining, living with my ex quickly cured me of them. 

In my eyes, he was a borderline hoarder, although I'm sure he would disagree. I remember when we moved into our house together, watching the seemingly endless parade of boxes being carried inside, filled with old magazine articles, newspaper clippings, knick-knacks and various thrift store finds he'd collected and held onto so dearly for so many years. I spent the majority of our relationship trying to get him to purge these things so I could organize what remained into tidy piles and decorative boxes and, in essence, stripping him entirely of who he was as reflected by what he possessed. I didn't see it that way at the time... I do now. 

See, the way I understood it, when you moved in with someone, you were supposed to discard your respective mish-mash of "single" junk and start spending your weekends at Pottery Barn buying wall sconces and matching sets of things. That's what couples do, right?

I've always been good at making a house into a home. I would have made a fantastic 50's housewife, what with my martini mixing skills and penchant for doing household chores in a dress. So during this time, I embraced my "nesting" instincts 100%. Every spare minute or dollar I had, went to decorating our space and making it cozy for us. 

Recently, I had an epiphany as I was unpacking my Christmas decorations. Amidst the strands of lights and boxes of ornaments, there were also serving trays, place mats and various other table-top accoutrements meant to embellish a beautiful dining room table I no longer own, in a home where I no longer reside. It occurred to me that I've been holding on to a lot of items from my "former life" which I no longer have any use for. 

Thus began my process of "reverse nesting". The last few weeks have been spent filling boxes with things I've decided never to move again. I want them out of my life. I'm tired of wrapping things in newspaper every few years. The plan is to get down to the bare minimum, so moving is a breeze and I can live in a small, efficient place and spend my time and money traveling extensively, because that is what the new Me wants. The current Me... the Me who barely recognizes the person who purchased all of those things just a few short years ago. This 'Me' is going to sell all of her furniture, buy a plane ticket to somewhere tropical and never look back.

New Year's Resolution #2...

Truth be told, I am currently about 87% in love with three different people. None of whom are probably right for me and none of whom are a viable option regardless, due to: living far away; having a girlfriend; and showing a complete lack of interest in me, respectively. Yet, I continually find myself pining for these people and wondering 'what if?'. It is emotionally draining and frustrating. So, with this new year (and new decade, for that matter) I have decided it would probably be a good idea to stop wasting all my energy on these situations, and instead, attempt to figure out what it is that would actually make me happy. Ideally, this involves someone who: lives in the same state; is available (both physically and emotionally); recognizes my awesomeness and wants to be a part of it. Or, I could just shut down this entire operation and be content to be alone. Honestly, I don't really mind it. I've been flying solo for 2 years now, and I am significantly less stressed out and wealthier than when I was attached. Plus, when there is no sign of booty on the horizon, I don't have to shave my legs or wear cute underwear, or clean my apartment regularly. It's relaxing and somewhat liberating, really. The problem is, humans need physical contact to thrive--this is a scientific fact. So as much as I enjoy not having someone bugging me all the time about where I'm going or what's for dinner, it wouldn't suck to have someone who wants to hold my hand at the movies or snuggle on the sofa, or throw me onto the kitchen table. But, I digress... This year will be about determining what I want (in all aspects of my life) and actively seeking it. To quote Bridget Jones: "I will not continue to form romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, commitment phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits or perverts"......starting February 1st, of course.

New Year's Resolution # 1...

My friends and I have often discussed how difficult it is to meet people as a grown-up, both friends and significant others. When you're young and in school, it's easy. There are classes, activities and parties at which to meet dozens of people in any given week. When you are older, you inevitably spend the majority of your time at work and as a result end up dating, or at the very least hooking-up with, your co-workers. Everyone knows this is a bad idea, but people get lonely. People get horny. People are very good at rationalizing bad ideas into good ones. I am an expert at this. I'll be wandering along unassumingly, with minimal drama, feeling pretty carefree, when all of a sudden I decide it would be a good idea to take a giant dump right in the middle of where I eat every day. I am not stupid or naive, yet for some reason, I never think this will be a big deal, even though historically it always results in some kind of massive drama, the least of which is awkwardness, the worst of which is angry exes finding out because some people can't keep their stupid mouths shut. My friend, who has ample experience in this realm, has told me I need to threaten them with destroying their manhood/reputation/existence if I expect to maintain any level of discretion. This is clearly where I've dropped the ball in the past. However, it's a new year and I am a huge fan of resolutions, new beginnings and clean slates. I am choosing to look at all of my questionable decisions from the past year as a large, blinking neon sign that says 'stop acting like you are 20 years old'. I've been 20 years old. It sucked. I don't know why I've been trying to relive it, especially when there are plenty of 32-year old mistakes I could be making instead. So, in 2011, no more dipping my pen in the company ink......wish me luck.

Reality vs Fantasy

The human brain is complicated. The female human brain, I've decided, is even more complex and at times, so filled with crazy it's difficult to function. Personally, I spend so much of my day in fantasy land, it's hard to concentrate on what's happening right in front of me. I can't speak for all girls, but I have a habit of letting my mind wander and as a result, I end up having these elaborate, detailed, stream-of-consciousness fantasies. I've always done this, and I wonder how many others do the same. I remember as far back as high school, when I met this one boy during my "goth" phase. He was so dark and mysterious and depressed--I was certain he was my soul-mate. We first got together at a friend's house, when I ever-so-casually mentioned I had never had a hickey and I wondered what it was like. He very shyly volunteered to show me and for the next 3 months, we spent our weekends at our friend's house making out. Sure, we barely knew each other, but in my mind we were going to continue our love affair on the weekends until we could both save up enough money to move in together. We would live in an old, abandoned warehouse that had been converted into loft apartments. We would sit around reading comics and listening to Nine Inch Nails. We would get married in a cemetery at midnight, wearing matching black cloaks. Our children would wear little black onesies and only go out to play at night, and when they asked their daddy how we fell in love, he would say: "Well you see kids, your mother had never had a hickey..." A few years later, when I was in the midst of an on-again/off-again relationship with another boy, part of me was certain that someday we would be on-again for good... The ceremony would be held in a small church in the country. He would wear a tan suit and I would wear a flowing, cream-colored peasant dress and daisies in my hair. We would sit around eating Ben and Jerry's mint-chocolate cookie ice cream and watching MST3K reruns. He would get a job at the local college as an English professor and I would be a stay at home mom to our two extremely intelligent and artistic children. On Sundays we would go to his parents house for brunch after church, then spend the afternoon grading his students' papers and helping our kids with their homework.

I think this tendency of mine to form these fantasies, is part of the reason people have a difficult time living up to my expectations in reality. It's really hard to control, though, and I find myself doing it not just for people I'm in a relationship with, but people I barely know too. One night at work, a lady I know from around town came in with a couple who was visiting from out of state. As I brought their drinks, she mentioned that this couple had a son who was single. According to them, he was handsome, close to my age and an outdoorsy type who enjoys hunting... perhaps I would like to meet him the next time he comes to town? I laughed nervously and politely declined, however, I was already forming a visual of him and mentally coming up with new and delicious ways to cook venison and elk. After they had finished their dinners and left, I went to clear the table and actually had the thought: "Wow, my future in-laws are really good tippers." Then I proceeded to laugh out loud at myself.

Although my fantasies are usually person-specific, there are some things that are a constant. For example, if I do ever end up getting married, I've always wanted it to be an outside ceremony. I've always wanted to walk down the aisle to 'Fade into You' by Mazzy Star and I've always wanted our first dance as husband and wife, to be to 'We Belong' by Pat Benetar. That is probably why when I went out with the cute, health-food store guy awhile back and he mentioned he was a fan of Pat Benetar, I assumed we were soul-mates and was understandably perplexed when he never called me again. I guess I just need to be careful about keeping reality and fantasy separate, though not completely, because I am convinced that someday I will meet someone who has a pet named Falcor, or who enjoys the band Cinderella as much as I do, or who doesn't mind watching re-runs of Friends for the 350th time, because then I will know everything happening in my head will eventually come to fruition.