Sharing Fears

6 05 2009

Jake is Perfect for me.  He continues to prove so everyday, and particularly last night.  Why can’t I buy into it?

Cradled in his arms, we talked last night about the fears we share. . . What if one of us gets bored with the other and leaves for better company?  What if we finally let our guard down and the other changes their mind?  What if we never let our guards down?  How can we expect our relationship to work when none of the others has ever ended happily ever after?   And the latest fear, can I trust myself enough to make it safe for Jake to trust me?

The ultimatum he hated to give: Jake or everyone else.  The first time he declared it, I asked, “Is this a defensive or offensive move?”  He  looked into my eyes and with full conviction declared he wanted to be with me.  That I made him happy.  I asked him how he knew, and he just did.  He didn’t care about whether some other girl could make him happier.  I couldn’t wrap my brain around it then, and I still can’t.  Ughhh. 

Both half-wishing he’d enforce his ultimatum, I laid in his arms last night, feeling his breath against the back of my neck.  Before I could drift to sleep, I told him I was concerned that my actions were forcing him to cross the monogamous relationship bridge before he might actually want to.  He turned me around so we were facing each other.  I could barely see his face in the dark, but I knew his eyes were on mine.  He whispered to me, as if it were some secret.  He told me if we weren’t in a monogamous relationship, he’d never be able to let his guard down. 

Those were key words for me.  I know he keeps his heart, and there is nothing more I could want than for him to let me in.  I know my walls are falling more each day, and its creating an almost unstoppable momentum.  I fear that my walls will fall to him and I will still be locked out of his heart.  It seemed like an easy choice.  If being picking Jake and leaving everyone else (present and potential) behind, if that gets me closer to his heart, that’s what I want to do.  Its whether I can trust myself to stick with that decision, to pass on potentially wonderful soulmates and be satisfied with the journey that Jake and I are on.

He told me he didn’t want me to be with him only until something better came along.  I told him cared about him to much to allow that to happen, and that’s why I needed to take things slower. I need time to process everything that has happened to us in the last 5 weeks. 

Yet, the slower we try to move, the further we go down this path toward perfect.



6 05 2009

We are trying to take things slowly, but it is proving impossible when we live 10 feet away from each other and like each other as much as we do.   Even storms blow through faster than I can forgive myself.  Or maybe its because we’re always onto something new and exciting and amazing at speeds faster than I can process…

 We spoke while I waited for my flight to depart from Miami.  He spoke sweetly to me, and I felt horribly undeserving.  I told him I wasn’t the best behaved this weekend.  He was silent.  I wanted to tell him that I met someone else. That I kissed this person, and that I was only sorry about the part where my recklessness violated his trust, his friendship, my word.  He remained silent.  He did not ask, so I didn’t tell him of my wrongs.  I tried to tell him not to wait up, that I’d be too dirty to crawl into bed next to him.  But he wanted to wake up next to me.  

I got home at 2am, deciding to sleep in the living room so i could avoid Jake till I was less exhausted and dirty.  My other roomate was already asleep on the couch.   I had no choice but to enter my bedroom.  Jake was asleep in my bed.  I didn’t want to have to tell him the truth, but he was there in my bed, and deserved full-disclosure before he had the chance to greet me with a hug and kiss or skillet to the head.  He stirred a little, and called me to bed.  I sat next to him and asked him why he hadn’t asked what terrible things I’d done.  I laid out my confession and he brushed it aside, burdened by sleep.  I laid down beside him, careful not to touch him.  I knew the information was sinking  in by the minute.  We spoke our thoughts out loud.  He asked me questions and I gave him answers that didn’t sit easy for either of us.  We didn’t kiss or touch, except hold hands.  I was lucky he didn’t storm away from me at all.  He took things far better than I would have, and it made me realize that I cared about him more than he cared for me. Ironic. Upon waking the next morning, he kissed my shoulder.  Maybe he had forgotten what a horrible person I was.  We got ready for work in a hurry, oversleeping after talking all night.  We held hands and spoke without awkwardness on the way to work.  I dropped him off, and as I expected, he did not kiss me good bye as usual.  I drove away from him with tears welling in my eyes and a sharp nauseating pain. 

The day after I came back from Miami, we both were planning and trying to hide from each other.  I wanted to sneak in from work and not have to see his face, have to be reminded of how I hurt him.  I asked our roomate if Jake was home, and I was relieved to find out he was away.  At the same time, i didn’t want Jake to think I was avoiding him because of anything his fault.  For my own, I was afraid he’d be angrier than when I first admitted my wrongs. 

When I came home from dinner, his door was closed, and I looked at it longingly.  I went into my room, exchanging my bags for my bathtowel.  I opened my door and he was in the hall.  He asked me how I was doing, and I said it was rough.  He nodded mechanically in agreement.  I took my shower and when I came out, the light behind his door was off.  I stood in my doorway looking at the closed, dark door.  Wishing I were inside, cuddled next to him.  Instead, I felt really sad.  Finally I closed my door, making the signature sound signaling that the bathroom we all share is now free.  I quickly put on my pjs and opened my door, in case he’d ever open his, in case he’d ever want to stop by and say hello.  As I swung my door open, he was in the hall.  I was surprised to see him, spending all day at work thinking of ways to politely avoid him, and then spending all evening at home wishing I could be next to him.  I asked him if he was going to bed.  Me too.  I asked him where he was sleeping tonight, and he invited me to his room.  “Am I allowed to?”  I had planned on grounding myself in my room, miserably thinking of the wrongs I’d done.  I couldn’t believe he wanted to be near me so soon.

I laid down beside him, unsure of how he’d receive me.  He scooped me into his arms and held me.  We talked. We were both feeling better than last night or the morning.  It was amazing how we could talk about everything with ease and honesty and even laughter.  I wished I could forgive myself as easy as he seemed to.


5 05 2009

ugh. Tired and confused and burdened.  Wishing I could be reckless without repercussion.  Now I have dragged a very important person into my life, my mess, my recklessness.  Someone who I want to protect from anything bad, including my recklessly impulsive and idiotic ways.  I wonder how fragile he might be, and whether I’m not giving Jake enough credit.  He is stoic and flippant, and perfect for me in every way.  He is proving he can take the punches and bruises and dirt that I drag my early relationships through.  Ughhh.

I came back from Miami and I have broken his trust.  I have disappointed and angered both Jake and myself.  We haven’t had a formal “exclusive” talk, but I remember lying next to him the night before my trip, warning him about my wild ways when I’m on vacation.  At the time, I wanted him to tell me to behave.  I wanted Jake to tell me that he wanted me to be his, and not some single girl on South Beach.  Earlier that night, as I was packing, he joked that I could do whatever I wanted, “Just don’t tell me about Ricardo when you get back.”  and I quipped, “Well, what about his brother Fernando?” But then I needed to know if he was joking, because I was not.

I cannot be trusted on vacation. I ALWAYS meet someone when I go on vacation.  It’s because I love strangers and once-in a lifetime opportunities.  I lose all inhibitions because I know I never have to see this person again.  I can be my best or worst version of myself, and they won’t have anything to compare it to.  Exhibit A:  Chicago…  I lose a dozen rounds of “never have I ever” when my friends remember how and with whom I spent our Chicago field trip.  I remember being late to the airport because Christopher and I were too tangled to notice the time.

Ughhh. I am supposed to be making a decision.  Picking Jake over everyone else.  Is that even the decision I need to be making?  I know its more than just picking Jake over Hank.  Is the decision whether I can trust myself enough to allow Jake to trust me?  that’s a toughie too.

Jake is sitting across from me,  whispering to “Pick Me.”  and I tell him I know that’s the right answer.  I just can’t wrap my brain around it.  I lean my head back, laughing and cursing at the same time.  He asks me what’s going on, and I tell him that he is winning.  while I can’t pick him, I’ve realized that I care about and like him more than I ought to, more than he likes me. Ughhh.

Best Easter Ever

27 04 2009

No bunnies, No easter eggs. Just beach, rum, shrimp, sun, starbucks, rhinestone jeans, and a fancy slick new purse.  I went home for Easter, the weekend following the big exam, and really got to relax, sunning on the beach, eating good food, laughing with my family.   We ate steak twice that weekend.  This is an understatement of how this was the Best Easter Ever.

Easter weekend we celebrated my dad’s 60th birthday.We set out early for a prime spot on Clearwater Beach, directly adjacent to Frenchy’s cafe.  My dad waited an hour for the beach bar at Frenchy’s to open, and I assume they let him in early as he was pacing back and forth from the closed door to our spot on the water every 10 minutes.  That day, my mom refused to leave the water, and my dad refused to leave the bar.  So, being the kind daughters we were, we shuttled back and forth between them, taking turns to have lunch with the old man and read trashy magazines with my mom.  We made my dad look so popular, 3 different young ladies coming to visit him at the bar. =)  I offered to pick up his tab, hoping it wasn’t going to be a large fortune.  I tried to get him to drink something different than the Budweiser that filled his fridge at home.  My middle sister and I were all up for the experimentation.  Trying to balance our “innocence,” we stuck to the fruity concoctions like Pina Coladas.  Then we decided to try the house-special Rum Runner.  Two sips later, it hit me…this was a damaging drink disguised with fruit.  Long story short, my Dad’s 60th birthday was the first time I was trashed in front of my father, let alone at lunchtime.  It was one of the best times my Dad and I shared. I was so drunk that after nap/ hour’s drive to the outlet mall, I had to get coffee to sober up.  As soon as they helped me out of the car, I announced to my mother and sisters that I shouldn’t be allowed to buy anything in my condition.  I then announced that I needed Starbucks and all drinks on me, which everyone took full advantage of.  I’m not sure who did the most damage… my sister’s who spec’d out fancy coffee drinks, or my mom and I who are Starbucks illiterate and ended up with giant cups of expensive mystery caffiene.  Needless to say, I quickly became a very awake drunk, who seemed even wittier and hilarious than my usual self.  Some would argue that, but who needs them?

Smiley Steve

24 04 2009


I dialed and hoped for voicemail.  A tune played as my call was connecting… SilverSun Pickups.  One of my favorite tunes… the kind of detail that makes you wonder if he could be someone important.  The sort of thing that makes you doubt your decision to cancel a date. Curious about all the unknown potentials.  I can hear the smile in his voice as he states his name and unavailability…

“Hi Steve.  It’s Lynne.  I hope you’re having a good Friday.  I’m going to have to cancel our drinks this evening. Things have moved forward with someone else, and so the timing’s not great.  It was nice talking with you this week.  I’m sure we’ll be running into each other again soon.”

CB049377From the measly half hour’s worth of conversation I have exchanged with this stranger, I only know that he is nice, gives off an interesting, potentially compattible vibe, and has a great smile.  This week, he called me for the first time after meeting him 2 months ago.  Right away, he said he had a really good reason for not calling, which left me curious.  More curious about his timely entrance into my first week of being ready to mingle.  He explained that when he first met me, he was in a relationship which ended mutually a month ago.  Interesting timing.  Interesting that we would remember each other that long ago in the crazy pace of these days.  Merely momentary thoughts…initial excitement and intrigue easily wears off.

I think of the man I am most interested in and how perfect it feels when we are spending time together.  I think of how much I enjoy his smile, because I know I have a part in it, and because I know  he is experiencing the same happy feeling when we are sharing time together.  It is more than a momentary feeling.  I feel it even when we are apart.

My phone buzzes with a text message.  Smiley Steve thinks I’m chickening out and doesn’t believe me about “the other person.”  I’ve already downgraded his Crush Status, so at this point, I’m glad that he’s “not calling it a date.”  He seems like a cool dude to grab a beer with.  Internal confusion.

Elevator Crush

23 04 2009

I ran into the Elevator Crush for the second time in two days. Totally unfazed by the whole thing. We exchanged smiles and small talk.  He sounded busy as usual.  Too busy for a girlfriend.  Too busy to even consider it.  His shirt was untucked unkindly.  His hair was longer than the last time I saw him.  My hair is shorter, but amess.  I thought of the last time we kissed, maybe a year ago.  He was never a great kisser.  I never missed that.

He had a great apartment by Piedmont Park.  A giant glass desk and lots of design books.  He had a small gap in his teeth that I never minded.  I remember watching him while he primped in the morning.  He gave me the play-by-play everytime he had to switch razors, combs, and gels.  We never played pool, just had long great conversations about people, business, love, being spies.  He would have made a terrific spy, and from the moment I realized this, I decided that “being a good spy” was goint to be an essential requirement for a suitable partner.

I am putting this to rest. Retiring this crush I have been harbouring for months.  The timing had never been right, and he was never a great kisser.  He’s about himself, and I’m about growing into a couple.  There was never any room in his life for a girl like me, and after months of elevator encounters and spontaneous lunch dates, I can watch him walk away without wondering whether he’ll walk back into my life again.  Letting go never felt so good.

Intimate distance

31 03 2009


I hear the spray of the shower and the smell of a clean man wafts through the house.   It is one of my favorite smells.  I hear the footsteps leave the shower, and then buckles and zippers as my roomate gets dressed.  I hear him stuff a backpack and jiggle the lock as he steps out.  It is 10:30 pm on a Monday.   I am curious, wondering if he forgot something in his car parked outside.  A few minutes pass without his return.  I wonder if he’s going to check on a lab experiment or pull an all-nighter sitting in a diner booth.  Maybe he’s going to answer a booty call.  I like that last answer best, and I return my mind to the NCIDQ flashcards on my lap.

I have 5 days to go before I can resume my social life, regain free time, and chill out.  I stare at my flash cards.  Public distance:  12 feet and beyond.  People watching distance.  I love people wathcing.  I wanderlust about the well-kept men in my office building.  Social distance:  4 to 12 feet.  Close enough to exchange smiles and hellos.  Close enough to walk by pretending not to notice how handsome he is.  Close enough to know he’s watching you walk away. Personal distance:  4 feet to 18 inches.  Sitting next to a handsome accquaintance over lunch, exchanging laughs and smiles.  Close enough to smell his cologne.  Intimate distance:  6 to 18 inches.  Close enough to feel his body heat in a crowded elevator.  Close enough to feel his whisper in your ear.

Intimate distance.  Sigh.  I can’t wait till I can focus on social/personal/intimate distance.  My roomate is still gone.  I find myself jealous, wishing I could also have some romance in my life.  I drag through the last few flashcards.  I am distracted by the  handsome stangers I’ve put on hold while studying for this exam.

I think of one of my favorite prospects, and wish we could meet up for drinks.  He makes me laugh and smile till it hurts my cheeks.  I want him to be the real deal.  But he reminds me of my last boyfriend, who was also a workaholic.  I try not to get attached to the idea of someone who in the past has admitted that he enjoys the single life.  I am hoping his mind has changed.  I am not hoping to change his mind myself.  That’s too much work and risk and heartbreak.  I hope he’ll come to his own senses.  I think we’d be really compattible, mentally and personality.  We have alot of common interests and goals and perspectives.  He would get along great with my friends and family.  I love a man with a big, genuine smile.

I hear my roomate re-enter the  house.  He went to buy beer. Typical.  He laughs when I explain the booty call theory.