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6.30.2008

Note to self

Dear Self:

You cannot drink a medium-sized chocolate milk shake from McDonald's. Stop. Trying.

Love,

Lauren

6.29.2008

Summertime

When I was a kid, summertime represented freedoom. It meant spending lazy days at the pool or splashing through the sprinkler. It meant escaping to the cool darkness of a movie theater for a matinee Disney flick. As I got a little older, it meant staying up really late to finish a book, knowing I didn't have to work in the morning. It meant going to a bonfire to drink beer and make s'mores.

Summertime for adults is a much different thing. The lazy days of summer are gone, replaced by the real world and the concerns of getting it all done. Work. Errands. Maintaining friendships and starting new ones. The lazy days of summer that everyone talks about seems like a cruel joke that the universe is playing on you, a distant memory or a prize that is just out of reach.

It really sucks.

So how does one try to recapture the summer of their youth? How do we go back to feeling like summer is our reward for working hard the rest of the year?

6.28.2008

feeling

i'm drunk and it's making me a little crayz. He and I just became frineds on myspace and I went there today and he has flirtatious messages posted form a girl who says "no, i think I picked you up."

she lives in cincinnati.

mother fucker.

I feel lie crap.

6.23.2008

Wine and chocolate

Wine and chocolate. Two substances guaranteed to mend any number of ills, most notably, a broken heart.

The jubilation in my first post of the year and the depths of despair chronicled ever-so-briefly in my second post of the year may provide some insight into the roller coaster of emotions I have experienced in the past six months.

I met the ex - S - when I least expected it: Three days after Christmas through the same mutual friend who introduced me to my last serious boyfriend, Andy. S is easily the best, best, best guy i have ever dated. I fell for him. Hard. I have never, in all my life, been so convinced that I would marry someone.

The feelings were mutual. Within a week and a half, he'd told me about a daydream he'd had in which we were saying our vows. I was in a white dress. YES - that daydream. I'd had similar daydreams and was glad to know we were on the same page.

As the weeks progressed, we would make thinly veiled references to our future life together. Should he get started on his Master's now so that he can get his PhD quicker so that I could stay home with the kids if I wanted to? Should I start looking for jobs in Vegas? Everyone noticed how different this guy was, how differently I talked about him, how differently he treated me from some of the lame guys I'd dated in the past. I think we all thought I really would marry this guy and live happily ever after. Even my mom warned me not to come back married after a long weekend with him in Vegas.

And then.

And then it was just over. Suddenly. All of these issues started to come up. His past relationship failures. His fear of becoming like his father - a person who has abandoned both of the families he has become with an appalling lack of decency. Some stuff in his past that makes intimacy difficult and trust even more so. Major, major baggage.

It was the longest and the shortest breakup ever. Like I said: It was just over. He wasn't around for me to keep seeing. We don't talk to the same people on a regular enough basis to hear about one another through the grapevine. We tried to stay in contact and remain friends, but our natural camaraderie took over and we spent hours on the phone, just as we had before. It made it that much harder for me. Here was a person I loved deeply, deeply enough to actually really want to marry with no reservations, and I couldn't even listen to him breathe without fighting the overwhelming urge to cry. So we cut off communication completely.

After S and I broke up, I was in a bit of a rut. One day, tired of my own self-pity I recommitted myself to... myself. I had the brilliant idea that I would take a year and recommit to myself. The goal was to take all the energy that I would put into a relationship and put it back into myself. This year of dating myself would include (but not be limited to) working on all the things that I dislike about myself; investing more time in making new friends (and keeping the old); pushing myself to experience new things; and finally, starting the life that I have always wanted instead of waiting for my life to start. I am rediscovering myself. I know, I know: It sounds dorky (and it is). Maybe I'll turn it into a diary/self-help book.


But the thing is, my self-therapy has started to work. I have started to heal. It has taken a lot of wine and chocolate. I still cry over him - those big, heaving sobs that leave you drained on the bathroom floor - but the crying jags get shorter and come with far less frequency and violence than they used to.

I have been thinking a lot lately about getting back into online dating again. You all remember my Cingle in the City escapades, right?! I am thinking that even though I am dating myself, I can still date other people. I just won't be in an exclusive relationship with them. Plus, dating is fun and there is nothing like a dozen or so admirers to boost one's self-confidence. Some friends have been clamoring for it, claiming it is the perfect summer distraction. They may be right... we'll see.

So, sorry for the long, self-imposed sabbatical, folks. Hopefully I can win back my beloved blogger buddies. I've missed you and the cathartic power of this little online diary/window to my soul. And I just bought a fancy-schmancy computer so now I am completely wireless and utterly in love. You'll be hearing more from me, soon!