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.

Sleepless in Colorado.

I remember when I first moved away from home. I was young, optimistic, chock-full of naivety and sass and leaving a fair amount of boy-baggage behind me, back east. The mental future I had laid out for myself was somewhat unconsciously inspired by the first half of every romantic-comedy movie ever produced. I intended to be a hip, single chic with a cool apartment, fun job, and great friends--maybe even a gay best friend. I'd go for walks in the park and sip lattes at some quaint little cafe while reading pretentious literature. It was going to be fantastic. Of course in every one of those damn movies, it's just a matter of time before the potential love interest arrives, turns that girl's life upside-down and shows her how to love again. Most of these movies irritate me because of glossed over problems and implied eternal bliss. They should make sequels to all of them, showing boy and girl's first fight over boy getting drunk with his buddies or girl forgetting to pay the electric bill. Oh the hijinks that ensue when boy forgets to take out the trash and girl accidentally shrinks boy's favorite T-shirt. Somehow I don't think the sequels would do as well at the box-office. Why? Because reality kind of sucks sometimes, but it is inevitable. Not every night can be spent holding hands ice-skating in the park, or sitting together in a bathtub for hours. And my understanding is that those nights spent making love until dawn on a bed of rose petals, eventually turn into "Okay, it's Wednesday, let's do this." and "For god's sake, would you put your dirty clothes in the hamper?!!" But I digress... My life was shaping up just like I'd pictured. The trouble is, much like in the movies, every time I found myself living the dream, some dude came along, swept me off my feet and fucked everything up. That's why from now on, I will not be allowing any fellas to romance me unless:

A.) They are bravely battling a terminal illness and have fewer than 6 months to live.

B.) They have been my friend for years and I suddenly realize what I've wanted all along was right before my eyes.

C.) They are an attractive but lonely millionaire I meet turning tricks some night.

Anyone else can just keep moving...I've got to go volunteer at a nursing home, walk some dogs, take care of my sick dad/aunt/brother/whatever and finish my novel. I would prefer not to be distracted.

Because you can give yourself a neck rub, but it's not the same...

It's hard not to feel lonely this time of year. I'm not even talking about the holidays... that is a whole other bowl of depression. I'm talking about autumn. The air gets brisk and the days get shorter. The entire season is devoted to cozy things like apple cider, sweaters and fireplaces. Everything about autumn is conducive to snuggling under a blanket with someone and watching movies. So it stands to reason that no matter how good you're feeling about your life, or how happy and fulfilled you typically fancy yourself, this time of year can throw you for a loop. It sneaks up on you too... Recently, I've found myself wanting to punch couples in their respective, happy faces. Normally, I am fairly indifferent to couples. I figure if they want to be in a relationship, good for them! Their lives are probably a little dull and they likely spend more time watching reality TV together than having sex, but they're happy. Of course, all jadedness aside, they also have someone to spoon with after a rough day. I believe it was that revelation that prompted my near-assault on some people canoodleing in front of me the other day. I also realized during a moment of reflection, that close to 80% of the relationships I've been in, began between September and November. Coincidence? I don't think so. Now, I am a self-proclaimed nostalgia-junkie. Once I start rolling down memory lane, it's difficult to stop and I often end up in a sad little funk. I was driving home from work tonight with the heater blasting, since my driver's side window is stuck in the down position. It's one of the first nights this season that we've had rain and a few snow flurries. I've been so looking forward to either, I didn't even care that my left ass-cheek was wet from said weather soaking my car seat. The smell of the moisture in the air and the way the clouds and mist hung in the sky as I was driving, sent my mind away. I was transported back to autumn of 2004 when my ex and I got together. He had this small, cozy apartment just down the street from my own, with a heater in the living room that looked like a wood-burning stove. That heater made his apartment soooo warm and comforting. I remember going over there and watching movies and talking for hours on end in that toasty little womb of an apartment that smelled intoxicatingly like coffee and incense. It was my happy place and it would have been next to impossible not to fall in love with him in those surroundings. When I recall memories like that, it's hard not to become enveloped by a sense of loss and loneliness. Thankfully I am able to recognize it as the perfect, yet fleeting, moment in time it was. I smile fondly and dreamily, (perhaps cry a little) and move on, knowing there will surely be even more perfect moments like it down the road.

I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're not in love with me yet...

Dating. It continues to be something of a foreign concept to me. I remember when I was growing up, I would watch movies and TV shows where people would go on dates and I recall being very excited at the prospect that someday, when I was older, I too would be participating in this ritual. My brother and I had a "dress-up" box, filled with old Halloween costumes and thrift-store clothes that we would put on and parade around the house in when we were bored. I distinctly remember being around 9 or 10 years old and putting together an outfit consisting of a black miniskirt and a blue and black, sleeveless, zebra print shirt with a silver sequined belt over top (laugh it up, but this was the 80's and it was rad.) I told my parents this was what I intended to wear on my first date, to which my Dad replied "over my dead body." Turns out he didn't have to worry about that for a long time. Awkward adolescence hit me with a vengeance and between the 3 years of braces, the spiral perms I was so fond of, and a very unfortunate fashion-sense, the boys weren't exactly lining up around the block to ask me out. When my friends and I finally did start attracting the opposite sex in our mid-teens, actual "dates" continued to elude us because we inevitably went out with boys we already knew and who were part of our circle of friends. We would all hang out as a group at parties or at the park or at concerts, but there was rarely, if ever, one-on-one time spent doing anything except making out in the back of a car. I did not go on my first legitimate date until I was 22 years old and it was a total train wreck. For some reason, I took a liking to this friend of a co-worker, who seemed nice and who I thought was somewhat attractive, even though he was 46 years old. He took me out to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and before we had finished the first course, he had already proven to be A.) a complete racist B.) a complete moron C.) possibly the owner of a puppy mill. If only cell phones had been common then... I would have been texting everyone I knew to come get me the hell out of there. Since then, I have most often ended up with co-workers whom I already knew on a friendly basis, therefore making "getting to know you" dates unnecessary. Fast forward to present day and my most recent predicament. I'm at this Pub last week and I run into this unbelievably cute guy from the natural foods store, who I've had a crush on forever (see my previous blog entitled #1 Crush). I decide it's fate and that if I don't talk to him, I will regret it forever. So I go talk to him... and he ends up asking me for my number... and he calls me 2 days later... and we go out for a beer the next day... and we talk for hours and have a great time... or so I thought. I foolishly assumed he felt the same connection I did and that my wit and girlish charm would have him pining for the next moment he could spend with me. It's now been a full week and I have not heard from him. I find myself thoroughly confused and wondering if this is one of those "games" I always hear about. Or if, as the movie so eloquently put it, "he's just not that into me". Regardless, this experience has soured me a little toward dating. Why should I put myself out there and deal with this nonsense when I have 2 perfectly loving cats at home and a stack of books on my night-stand just waiting to be read? After all, there's no law that says you have to be old to be a spinster.

Pregnant is the new black...

Everywhere I turn, it seems people are procreating. I feel as though a boom started in Hollywood a few years back with people like Britney Spears and Katie Holmes and ever since then, every fertile woman of child-bearing age in America has decided to get knocked up. Maternity clothes are all super stylish now, and you can get all sorts of cute, designer baby clothes for your child to throw-up on and poop all over. Maybe I am just hypersensitive to this because I am at an age where many of my friends are beginning to feel their biological clocks start ticking. I have a couple of close girlfriends who will likely be "with child" within the year, simply because regardless of their situations, they've decided it's time. This is incomprehensible to me. I think I might be missing the "maternal gene". I've been on the fence for years, about whether or not I want to have kids. I'll admit, I entertained the idea when my ex and I were together, but I'm a bit of a control freak and I never felt stable or secure enough with him to go through with it. (Thank God) Also, to be perfectly honest, most kids annoy the crap out of me and/or scare me. I view them as tiny sociopaths. They have no concept of right or wrong and care very little about the consequences of their actions. It's unsettling. Of course, everyone I tell this to gives me the parenting tagline: "Oh, you'll feel differently when they're your own." To this I reply: "What if you're wrong?" One of my biggest fears is that I will have a kid and I won't like him/her. Then what? My understanding is, you can't return them. I just spent a week with my brother, his wife and my two beautiful nephews, who are 2 years old and 4 months old respectively. I will admit that I love these two little beings, possibly more than anything else in the world, but after spending a few days with them, I was exhausted. In my head, I multiplied how I felt by about twenty, and was suddenly aware of how my poor sister-in-law must feel every day of her life. I'm not sure I could do it and I'm not sure I want to. Parenting tagline #2: "Your whole life changes when you have a baby, but you get used to it because it's sooo worth it." To this I reply: "What if I don't want my whole life to change?" I like staying up until 3 a.m. and sleeping until noon. I like going out dancing and drinking and enjoy eating at nice restaurants. I like having perky boobs and good bladder control. I know there is a chance I will change my mind someday and decide I want to be "Mommy", but for right now I am perfectly happy being nothing more than "Aunt Jess".

Do you know The Secret?

I know "The Secret". You might laugh and call me a delusional hippy, but for those of you who are also in the know, you can appreciate the power of the universe. For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, allow me to give you a brief education on the principles. "The Secret" suggests that you can have anything you want/need in this world, you just have to "attract" it to yourself with positive thought. Basically, you can manifest your own destiny by focusing on what you want in your life; the law of attraction being that "like attracts like". I don't typically put a lot of stock into this sort of flowery nonsense, but this makes sense to me and seems somewhat legitimate. That being said, I have crafted a "vision board"... a 2X3 bulletin board containing pictures and quotes of things I want to see, do and be. It has so far proven surprisingly affective. The trouble is, lately I seem to be accidentally manifesting the wrong things by not being completely clear about my intentions and desires. Example: I recently decided to try to form a clear picture in my head, of what my ideal mate would look like. I am here to tell you it's really difficult to do that from scratch. You inevitably end up picturing people you already know, then cutting and pasting together some amorphous image of a whole person. Or, in my case, you get distracted with picturing someone who you are unbelievably attracted to, but who is completely wrong for you in every other way and end up inadvertently bringing that person back into your life in a most unhealthy manner. I would never consciously and rationally try to bring too-young-for-me-emotionally-unavailable-immature-man-whores into my world, yet apparently because there are a grip of them floating around town right now, my irrational subconscious was like "Eh, have a little fun... what's the harm?" The harm lies in the fact that the very recent ex-girlfriend of this particular mistake, is bunny-boiling crazy and prone to stalking... I will be re-vamping my vision board this week, and I am tempted to fill it with very safe things like rainbows, moonbeams and a photo of an island where I will vacation soon, because you really have to be careful when you mess with the universe.