adult life spring break destination: austin, tx.

desperate or scared… beg for it, or run from it?

but there I go again, wishing never solved a problem.

last weekend i was talking with a friend about a pretty common website. and the writing done on that website. and though it is a common website, the purpose of it is not inherently good. and in postulating how or why one would write such ummm not positive energy stuff my friend (one that i am just recently getting to actually know) says to me, “i mean, let’s put it this way- i read your writing, and [the writing on that site] is exactly the opposite of your writing.” and at first i was like, ummm, what’s that supposed to mean? and my friend went on to explain.

he said, the thing about your writing is that you put yourself out there a hundred and ten times over. you are genuine, and honest, and transparent, and open. about yourself. and it is enjoyable in a world where we preach transparency on websites and to companies, it is rarely done in such a way that is so … real.

and i was, obviously, immensely complimented. but it really got me thinking. sometimes i write on this blog my rational theories and logical ramblings. and sometimes i pour my guts out. and honestly, i forget that people not only read these blabblings, but identify, and think that i have something to offer. and i guess, if i had one hope of what someone took away from this blog it would be just that- that i am an open, honest, genuine person just navigating my way through life and love like anyone else. and i am not better that anyone for any reason.

so, as i sit in the coffee shop where stephdub.com was born, on a friday afternoon, i will, once again, pour my guts out.

i just finished reading this novel, “all we ever wanted was everything.” and all you really need to know about it is in the title. a common phase that’s meaning never affects me less than the first time i heard it. and i will admit that this week i watched my first and last episode of this season’s the bachelor. it was the finale. and i watched follow up where are they now (6 weeks later) special after.

and while watching the bachelor i, of course, started bawling. i mean b.a.w.l.i.n.g. for a million reasons. first for the cookie cutter ‘perfect’ love that i feel i may never have. then for feeling inadequate for not being as perfect as their love showed them to be. then for feeling sorry for myself for not having that in my life right now. then for feeling desperate. and then i continued crying for the mere fact that i was bawling over the bachelor and over my newly acquired desperation for love.

and this week. it’s been interesting. i have started having complete break down moments in my apartment, by myself, just crying. feeling a complete hole in my heart. and in my life. where i am ready for someone to be. and last night, this break down turned slightly overwhelming. and i just became petrified.

petrified of being desperate. and then thinking that in reality i am absolutely not desperate. because i am in fact petrified of meeting someone. of letting someone in. of becoming vulnerable. i used to throw myself under the vulnerability bus in my last relationship. i would feel and tell him how i felt. and he would tell me that i was feeling too much. i would want to talk about things. finish fights right then and there. and now, i watch people on tv, and friends in my life react to relationship situations and i think. that was me. i did that. and now, no way. now, i’d walk away. now i’d shut down. i was never the ’shutdown’er. i was the thunderstorm of thoughts and emotions. and my boyfriend was the shutdowner. would just tell me to leave his house when we had a fight (i’d want to finish it right then and there).

and so there i was- having a total total rock bottom emotional freak out. unable to decide if i am desperate for love and affection, or petrified of it, want to run in the total opposite direction of it. and, well, that’s where i remain. completely overwhelmed with my bipolar thoughts feelings and emotions. realizing that i have never been here, at this interesting moment of single life. (this month it will be three years of single.)

(and about to enter to holyland of hookups- SXSW. maybe this will help? :/ )

if you wanna get big time, go ahead and get, get big time. ah, ah… oh, give and give and give it, until you just can’t give no more.

logistical life just getting in the way of connection

hoping a better place is all i need, with moments of innocence and mystery.

so i’ve had this theory for a while. about the beginning stages of dating. specifically like the first ‘date’ time frame. and as i was going to write about this theory as it pertains to the last boy i met (the one that i was most certain wouldn’t amount to anything), he went and blew my theory.

but not to worry. as things played out, his exception ended up proving the rule. (mind you being right and smart when it leaves you single and alone really equals a wash.) so here we go.

i think that the harder it is to ‘get together’ when you first meet someone the less likely anything will come of it. i mean, ok, duh you say. but hear me out. i think that the more difficult it is to reconnect the less you remember the reasons you wanted to get to know each other in the first place. more importantly, i think that a lot of good and possible connections get totally lost because of the logistical nightmares that are our busy lives. and this is sucky.

there is a small range of time where the excitement of meeting someone will light you with a fire to plow through the routine of life and work to meet up. but if for some reason, schedules get in the way and make it logistically difficult to meet up within this small window of time, the chances that you actually will diminish exponentially.

let me give an example. two people meet, say, at a bar. they hit it off. they both have an active life, single and on the go (read: population SF). and since they meet on a weekend they wait to connect via phone until early in the week. they connect and it is great, suggest meeting up the next weekend. but, unfortunately one of them has plans to go out of town. plans that were made long before they met the cute someone at the bar. so they agree to reconnect post out of town weekend. and by this point we are looking at ten plus days since the initial meeting. and to keep with a general comfort zone of first date timing, this date will most likely take place on a weekend. so by this point, the two have connected and got excited and then had to live their normal lives for nearly two weeks before the possibly of continuing that excitement even enters the picture.

it is at this point that after a few hits and misses of hanging out, all merely due to scheduling, one or both of the parties fall victim to the annoyance of scheduling and awkwardness of it not working out and look the excitement and initial connection in the eye and say, “whatever, see ya later.” the stupid rational everyday life stuff just gets in the way of pursuing a possible connection.

and this little fact of life sucks. so as much as we have been taught to follow to the “rules” of dating, and wait a few days before calling. and this and that…. just don’t. because life will get in the way. make it happen.

i have seen this same thing happen over and over, in my own life, and in others’. and it is ultimately disappointing. and the rational one in my says, “well steph, if they liked you enough they would make it work.” but i swear, that is not the case. cause three weeks is a long time to try and remember what it was that sparked some sort of interest one night in a bar. and the connection becomes a memory that incites zero feeling after a while.

this is just annoying. that’s all.

for the record. that boy that i thought would lead no where actually texted me two weeks after our last contact. asking what i was doing that night. we tried to arrange to meet up that night, and he ended up working late. and the rest is history. done and done.

so say goodbye to love,
and hold your head up high.
there’s no need to rush
we’re all just waiting, waiting to die.