The L Word

I keep biting my tongue, biding my time. He's never told a woman he loves her before, and he needs to say it first. It keeps trying to worm its way out of my mouth. To say it would be as easy as breathing, because that is how I feel it.

Breathe in, Breathe out

I need to calm down; to stop second guessing my every word and action. Cease being convinced that I'm one mistake from making Mr. Random run for the door. I know there is value in me. It's there. He knows it, too. Chill, BlinkBlink, darling, and enjoy the ride.

Sparkling like a Cullen

Oh the weather outside is frightful, but Mr. Random is so delightful. I sent him a text saying "The snow is sparkling like diamonds. It is so beautiful." He replied "I know something more beautiful." Wow.

The New Guy

It's been four weeks and he's told his parents about me, so I guess I'm officially dating Mr. Random. I like spending time with him; he's funny and fun and warm. He has theories on life and relationships that keep me on my toes. So far these theories range from why men ask women to dance (to establish trust between the partners) to the recipe for a relationship (a solid base of friendship, several cups of laughter, four to five gallons of physical attraction, and enough time to bring it all together).

He was at my house yesterday when his mom called to tell him his grandfather had passed away. He's hurting, and I'm hurting for him. The funeral will be about four hours away, and I'm not sure if we're at the point where I should attend. I care about him a lot, and I hate the idea of the him making that drive alone. We share so many things about our lives, but being together when he got the news brought a new level of intimacy to the relationship and I'm not sure of my footing. I want to help, but I don't want to push. I want to give him space, but I want to be supportive. It's a balancing act, and I'm not the most graceful person under the best of circumstances.

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time

After the insanity of the last several months, I am actually looking forward to Christmas. Mom and dad are flirting with the idea of reconciliation, my brother is in love and facing life as an adult, and I'm genuinely happy. Things aren't perfect, but who needs boring old perfection, anyway? I have a great job, amazing friends, my own little house, and presents under the tree.

I'm not concerned with the presents I'll unwrap tomorrow morning. I'm more fixated on putting my new attitude to work when I'm with my family tonight. My insecurity often holds me back from them, and I've realized that I can seem snobby. My cousins may not ever be my best friends, but they really should get to see the real me rather than the girl who hides. This is my Christmas goal.

I'll leave work around noon today and I won't return until January 4th. I am looking forward to this recharging time, but I'm also eagerly anticipating the plans I've made. Tonight is the Christmas party for mom's family, tomorrow is dad's crew as well as our nuclear family Christmas. Early next week is a gift exchange with my dearest local friends, and I have an exciting evening planned for New Year's Eve. I'll be honest - that last one has me all in a tizzy. I have a date. He's someone I met on my latest foray into the online pool and, wow, the water is warm. It's new, but I can honestly say I'm excited about him. Being with him is easy. There's no stress, no worry, just an honest enjoyment of being together.

For all of my complaints of roller coasters and buckets of tears, 2009 has been a pretty good year. Ugh. I'm rhyming. Hate it when that happens. Anyway - I salute you, third decade of my life, and I can't wait to see what 2010 brings.

What's with all the water metaphors?

Oh, little blog, precious little nugget of loin fruit. How I've missed you. I've been avoiding posting here. In part because there is nothing new to say about my family insanity and in part because I've been afraid to post about one part of my life because I didn't want to hurt a certain reader. You know who you are, and I'm sorry if any of this stings. However, I've come to the conclusion that I need to be honest and authentic here, otherwise, I might as well delete the page and pretend BlinkBlink never existed.

S and I broke up - anyone who reads this blog knows that. We had our reasons, and the fact that we wanted different things from life is a biggie. Another reason, though, is that I didn't feel valued by S. I know he loved me, but he didn't love me the way I want to be loved. I didn't feel like I was a priority in his life. Therapy has helped me see that. And as I said one day on the doctor's couch, "I don't always feel valued by my mother. I'm sure as hell going to feel like I'm valuable to the person I spend the rest of my life with!" S didn't do anything wrong - we just didn't mesh on all the right levels in the end. I don't want to sound clinical, but I learned a lot from my time with him. I guess with each relationship, you learn more about what you want in the relationship.

I've decided to wade back in to the dating pool, and I'm trying to move slowly. I know how fickle the water can be.

Heads or Tails?

For my parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I collected quarters from each of the 25 years they had been married and created a custom art piece for them. Dad loved it. He raved about the creativity and thoughtfulness it exhibited to his friends and colleagues. Apparently, the number twenty-five stuck with him more permanently than the marriage it represented. My father has been having an affair for over a year with a woman who was born when he was twenty-five. She is my age. After going home last night and telling mom he wanted to try to work on things, tonight he revealed the affair.

I'm angry. So very, very angry. This man is not my father. This is not the man who raised me.

Down With Distance!

I am a fan of many things. I like Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Avocado. Movies. Rain showers. Long, girly, giggly conversations. Hugs. Good ideas. Well-orchestrated events. Jeans. The color aquamarine.

I have a list of things I don't like, too, though. I don't like fighting with my mom. Spiders. Crows. Crow's feet around my eyes. Dark lip liner. Lima Beans. Tracey on this season of The Biggest Loser. Tornadoes. Ponchos.

There is one thing that I need to add to the "not a fan" list. It's something I'd never given a ton of thought to until about six months ago. I don't like distance. Yes, S only lives an hour and a half away, but when schedules are as different as ours, it feels like we're a continent apart. I miss him. I miss threading my fingers through his and seeing the warm light that shines from his eyes when he looks at me. I can't help but worry that he thinks I'm being pushy when I tell him I want to see him more. I can only hope that he sees it as what it is, though. A declaration of my love for him and a natural gravitation towards something that makes me so happy.

Whitewash

It's no secret that I've read the Twilight books. At the moment, I find myself envious of Bella. Not the whole mortal (and immortal) peril thing, but rather I envy her for having Jasper. Jazz, for those not in the know, is able to influence the moods of those around him. When Bella is anxious or panicky, he can whitewash the tension to give her some breathing room. What I wouldn't do for some old-school whitewashing. I'm a wreck.

Work is tense, and although the part-time assistant I hired is a god-send, I grate at sharing an office, especially with someone whose mind doesn't work quite like mine. I work hard, but it seems like things pile up nonetheless. Things are always due at the same time, making me feel like a hamster on a wheel to nowhere. I really enjoy my job, though. I like the people, I like the assignments, and I like the freedom.

My brother returns from rehab in 11 days. I've spent years being manipulated by his addictions, and I'm scared of the co-dependence that could envelope me upon his return. He wants to be my roommate in my new house so he'll have a family member to keep him accountable without chafing against the restrictions of living with his parents at the age of 25. I've told him no, which makes me feel mean, but I really feel like I've earned the right to live on my own. I don't want to be responsible for him - I tried that for a really long time when mom and dad refused to see how far gone he was. It's time for me to live my life. I told mom last night that both she and dad have broken promises they made to M when he started his program, and I feel like him seeing that when he comes home will plant seeds in his mind that he can't really do this. One little slip, and he could fall back into his old patterns. I know it sounds selfish, but I cannot take that again. I will not allow someone else's addiction to rule my life. I'm finally happy in Lexington. I don't want to leave, but I will if I have to.

This is the tricky part to express since S reads this blog. I honestly don't doubt that he loves me, and I feel very secure in our relationship. At the same time, it scares me. It's big and important and different than anything I've ever had before. I fear my inexperience.

I'm buying a freaking house.

And I'm living with my parents until then. Speaking of which...

Dear universe,

Please keep my closing date on track so I can get out of my mother's house.

Hugs and kisses,
BlinkBlink

Pardon me while I gush

Oh my lordy, do I love my boyfriend. Friday night, he attended my parents' 30th wedding anniversary celebration, and was introduced fully to the insanity that is my family. I've known them all my entire life, and I can still find them overwhelming, so I wondered how he would react to them - and how it would affect his view of me. He was amazing. He actually enjoyed their nuttiness. He likes my mother, the woman my siser likened to a cobra, and actually admires her lack of filtration from thought to spoken word. I think I'm back to thinking he's a figment of my imagination.

We're taking a trip in September with another couple (he's willing to make plans months in advance!), and we'll be seeing P!nk in concert. I love her, and I'm very excited about the trip. I asked S last night who he'd most like to see perform live, and he replied that he doesn't really like concerts. I stopped for a second, then said "You're not a huge P!nk fan, and you don't like concerts - why did you say yes to the trip?" He answered simply, "Because I'll be with you." I melted into a little puddle of BlinkBlink, and I don't know that I'll ever be the same.

One last thing, then I'll end this sickeningly sweet post. I was dreaming of him this morning when my alarm went off, and my dream turned the ringing into a call from him. I woke up smiling.

Excuses

I'm a bad blog mommy. I've neglected this little nugget of loin fruit, and now I must make amends. Of course, I have good reasons (excuses) - a "vacation" I needed a vacation to recover from, that whole work thing, being in lurve with the fabulous S, and facing temporarily moving in with my parents (gagcoughvomit).

The Vacation
I journeyed through a fog of kamikaze bugs back to the homeland. Springfield, Missouri - third largest city in the state, mainstay of tornado alley, and buckle of the Bible belt. I saw friends, laughed a lot, and cried as I watched a friend graduate from college after a ten-year battle with higher education. I mourned the changes in the town of my youth, and reflected on the changes that have taken place in me since I left the town almost four years ago. I've grown up, moved on, and started to carve out my place in the world, but my roots are still buried deep in the Kickapoo Prairie.

Work
Oh, lordy, do I work. Not right now, of course, as I am celebrating the fact that I haven't been here since Friday by writing this post, but in general, I work hard. I have a part-time assistant now because I'm the proud owner of a PUMA. Ask me what that means sometime when I'm not on my work computer. I've learned a lot from the great and powerful Dooce.

I Heart S
I have a boyfriend. Na-na-na-na-na. He really impressed my momma (a cobra for all intents and purposes). Mom denies that she told my brother S is very nice and extremely attentive towards me, but she also maintains her "allergies" are what caused her to tear up at my college graduation, so I don't believe her for a minute. S is meeting the brother this weekend, and I can't wait.

Moving in with the 'rents
I have a good reason, I swear! No! This isn't like neglecting the blog, I promise. This is the best and possibly one of the ONLY good reasons for a 29 year old to move back home. I'm buying a house! The lease is up on my apartment the end of May, and I can't close on a house until at least mid-June, so I'm going to crash at mom and dad's in the interim. I hope to put an offer in on the house today, so more info on that to come.

I'll be back soon, but in the meantime, check out S's blog at blog.misterwiseguy.com. You'll be glad you did!

Him + Me = We

According to an online dream dictionary, to see a hotel in your dream signifies a new state of mind or a shift in personal identity. That's an apt description for where I find myself these days. S and I have made the shift to coupledom. We are, in fact, we now, and I marvel at what love looks like. We're infatuated with each other, sure, but it's so much more than that. S knows I'm not perfect; I feel no need to hide my imperfections from him. He sees me in the light and loves me as I am. He sees me as my friends do, and I can't wait for their worlds to collide.

He's meeting the parents this weekend. It's a time-honored and much feared tradition. It's a stressful week for my family - I'm looking at houses, my brother won't be here for Mother's Day, and we have a funeral to attend. I'm understandably worried about the meeting. Part of me thinks I should put it off, but another part of me needs to share him with my family. I know he loves me, but I need him to see who I come from. His family isn't like mine - few are, really - and although I may not always see eye-to-eye with my parents, they're always going to be a part of my life. So, as of right now, the meeting is set for Sunday evening. I just hope the dog behaves...

Rescue

A new relationship is like an onion. No, seriously. There are layers to be peeled to get to the heart and no matter how hard you try, tears might be involved. Unlike the stinging tears of an onion, though, these are sweet tears. S amazes me. He's tender and funny. He tells me how he feels and my insides flutter.

We're alike in so many ways. He's a little anxious, gets a little stressed, and has some sore spots in his past. We're both trying to figure out what life should look like even as we learn to appreciate ourselves through the eyes of the other. My happiness means something to him - he seeks it, plans for it, and basks in it. In the midst of one of our lengthy phone conversations, I asked him what makes him happy. His answer, simply stated, was me. Me. With my insecurities and strong opinions. Me. That's all he needs to be happy.

I'm not a superhero, but I feel like I might be able to save him. I just hope he knows he's rescued me right back.

I Heart the Internet

Or, how BlinkBlink got her groove back...

I tried the online dating thing years ago. I met guys hoping to cheat on their girlfriends, guys who were cruel, and even one guy who thought French fries were spicy (huh?). I was understandably reluctant to try again, but decided it was worth one more shot. Two weeks later, I've already deleted my profile. There were some really nice guys on the site, and my profile attracted more attention than I expected, but late Sunday night, I permanently disabled my account. When asked why I was leaving, I paused in appreciation before clicking "I've met someone." I have, and no one is more shocked than I am.

I feel like I've regressed to high school. We talk on the phone for hours, I giggle all the time, and our conversations often degenerate into "No, you're cuter!" territory (because I'm such a giving person, I usually let him win). He's affectionate, appreciative, and attentive. I'm protective of him and of the bond emerging between us. I don't usually believe there's such a thing as over-sharing, but I hope y'all don't mind if I keep him to myself right now.

I usually sleep pretty soundly. I don't toss and turn too much; I don't wake up in the middle of the night. Admittedly, I often have strange dreams but rarely do I have nightmares. Sunday night was an exception. I had a dream that shook me so badly I was jolted awake, panting and scared. It was one of those dreams where everyone abandons you and there's nothing you can do to win them back. I described it to him later, finishing the explanation by saying "I was scared no one wanted me." He closed his arms around me, brushed a kiss against the tip of my nose, and replied "I can promise you that's not true." I could have told ten different people about that dream, and not one of them could have given me a more perfect response.

Prepositions and Propositions

Can it really be that simple? Is getting under a new man the best way to get over the old one?

W is gone - to quote the awesome Grosse Pointe Blank, "if you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's probably broken." Oh, W is broken all right. I dug in my heels and pulled out the duct tape and Barbie band-aids, trying to fix him, trying to make him the man he can be - the man I wanted him to be for me. But as anyone who's read this blog knows, I had to let it go. I turned in my nursing cap and turned him loose.

Oh, I ached. Somehow, I thought I'd be able to make up for the last ten years of his life, and (shocker alert!) I failed at the impossible. At the same time, though, I wondered if this flawed, needy man didn't want me, what chance did I have with the rest of the world? In a move that amazed me, I signed up for an online dating service. I completed a profile, keeping it as true to me as I could, and I cringed as I uploaded my picture, ignoring the taunting voices from my past. Within minutes, I had my first online suitors. A few more minutes passed and I had blocked the first one to send shivers (and not the good kind) down my spine. I don't know what's going to come from my foray into cyber-dating. Some of the guys send nothing but poorly spelled, not very imaginative propositions, but others have been really nice. I've been able to laugh and flirt and have real conversations that have nothing to do with my bra size. I'm thinking of this as training wheel dating. It will bolster my confidence and ease me back into the world. Just keep your fingers crossed that I can avoid any future Humpty Dumpties...

Land of the Lost

Damn. I did it. I feared I would, I did everything I could to keep it from happening, and I still freaking did it. I lost my self, and I wasn't even conscious of it enough to play the BlinkBlink version of "Where's Waldo." From day one, I started thinking "oh, I could move. It wouldn't be a big deal." Really? You could pack up and move to a city you know nothing about just because he is there? You could leave a great job, a job you've been waiting years for, to be with Mr. Damaged? And while all of this was going on, I was so proudly proclaiming my independence. It took ending things to see how dependent I was on him; how desperate I was to please him. Since I hit the "send" button and detonated the relationship, I've been me again. I'm disappointed in my loss of self, but I have no regrets. I learned a lot about relationships and myself, preparing me for the next great adventure. There's no sense beating myself up or wondering if I should have done things differently. After all, as Kierkegaard said "Life can only be understood backwards." Even Better? He continued, "but it must be lived forwards." Sound advice from a dead dude, don't you think?

Throwing Rocks

I'm almost 29 years old. Is there a point at which the other half of the human inhabitants of earth start to make sense or am I just out of luck? Will I be 95 years old, being chased around a nursing home by my siser, screaming "Boys are dumb! Throw rocks at 'em"? Of course, E will be 101 when I'm 95, so perhaps our conversations will be a little less articulate than that. I just don't get men. Never have. My dad's a mystery. My brother is...erratic and impossible to pin down. If I can't understand the two who are a part of me, what chance do I have with the other men of the world?

There's one I want to understand (isn't there always). Just when I think I'm getting a grip, he shifts - slippery little sucker. Just when I start to think I'll never get him (tangibly or otherwise), he slides back in, giving me a glimpse, keeping me anxious to be a part of his life. There are things I do understand about him, but understanding the why doesn't make the reality of our distance any easier. So, I guess the question is: will he help me understand before I have to be the one to turn away?

Oh, The Blinking

Obviously, it started before I was born. But the blinking started a few years later and evolved to a finely tuned art. A chin down, gazing up through the lashes art.

I have a siser – no, there’s not supposed to be a “t”. We’re sisters from another mister, best friends, and brain-sharers. According to her, the blink blink is my trick to enthrall boys. I think there’s an intrinsic piece missing in the theory; the men. Although, maybe my luck’s about to change.