Time to wait.

Being touched, wanted, feeling feelings you thought were extinct.  That's what and how he made me feel.  That's the reason why I allowed the cycle to continue.  Purely selfish.  (obviously).  And no different did I allude to getting burned from playing with fire, just that happened; I was burned.

I'm the only one to blame.  My selfishness overcame me.  I was sick of being patient for the right man to come along, instead, I decided to grab a man who kept saying and doing all of the right things.  I believed him when he said he had filed the divorce papers.  I allowed myself to get lost in his arms.  I felt such a strong, sexual connection with him, and still do (which makes me sick and upset with myself even more so).  I want to give myself the beating of a lifetime for allowing my heart to fall for him, when my head (and everyone around me) shouted at me to run in the opposite direction.

Dammit, I wanted it to be my turn so badly, I was willing to overlook the obvious red flags.  The things he has said to me, most of which I have never been told in my life, and some of them things I hadn't heard in a decade.

Blisters on my heart are festering right now.  Oozing the pain of coming to the realization that everything he's told me has been a lie.

His wife loves him.

I've seen things with my own eyes today, and although I tried my hardest to protect my heart, last night I slipped and decided to throw caution to the wind.  Last night I broke down the wall and let him in; he said "I love you" three times.  Kissing my passionately.  Touching me, and pulling me close.

Today, this afternoon; I realized how I had just been burned.  Played.  Used.  And in those words of being told to let down my wall, and encouraged to trust, I find a nauseous pit at the bottom of my stomach.  Ugly-crying, sobbing, hitting a pillow...not one of those actions comes close to letting out my rage and disappointment in myself right now.

I'm going back to waiting for my turn; I'm not about to take someone's away from them.  What good would that make me?  What kind of karma would wrap around and bite me in the ass?  I'm not that kind of person.  Thinking about this past weekend makes me queasy.  The emotions that have left my body...emotions I forgot I even had, now leave me sitting empty and numb.  Waiting my turn.  Yeah.  That's exactly what I need to do.

A leap of faith

Only thing for this single girl to do is jump over the moon.  What does that mean, aside from being an awesome line from one of the songs in RENT?  It means I have to start taking real, true chances, and to stop doubting myself.

A few months ago, I began a new position within my institution.  The new position required me to switch departments, buildings, and came with the accoutrements of a new work-group.  In my new environment, there are a lot of research labs; I don't work in a research lab, rather I support a couple of big-name Principle Investigators (PI's).

When I came to this building to interview for this position, I kept running into the same guy on the elevator.  My gut reaction was to get some stereotypical single girl fluttering.  I'm pretty sure my internal dialogue went something along the lines of "HELLLLOOOO!  I could get used to working here...hehehe."  No joke, my mind is very comparable to that of a twelve year old boy.  Have I mentioned I had to go through FIVE interviews before being offered the position?  Yup, five.  And more than half the time I came to my future new building, I rode the elevator with him.  I NEVER built up the cahones to say hello.  Just smiled politely, and as it kept repeating, most likely became more red in the face each time we rode up the couple of floors to our destinations.

To my surprise, a few weeks after starting my new job, I was told about this guy who works upstairs who is single.  It didn't take me long to figure out it was the same guy as Elevator dude (WHAT ARE THE CHANCES?!  RIGHT!?  For realz).

Since then, a few of my coworkers have began plotting and scheming to get us to date.  The kicker is we TECHNICALLY work in the same division, but I don't support the PI he works for, therefore there should not be a conflict of interest.  I've been very open to the possibility of dating him; more so because of the tainted couple of months I've recently had in the romance department.

.....but something keeps stopping me.

The whole "dating someone you work thing" can be a super sensitive subject.  Some people say it shouldn't matter, while others would argue it's the worst thing since Lindsey Lohan and Kim Kardashian became top news headlines.  I'm on the fence.

I've dated someone I work with once and only once.  I feel the situation was COMPLETELY different though because I was a lot younger, and we also happened to work in a restaurant and not and academic/professional environment.  Does the field you work in matter in areas of life involving (potential) romance?

YOLO (you only live once).  YOLO is what lead me to abandon my inhibitions, and to take a leap of faith.  Today, I emailed him asking if he'd like to walk with me to the farmers market later in the week, and grab lunch after.  He hasn't replied yet, but at least I'll go to bed knowing I tried.  If it works out, it works out...and if it doesn't, no harm, no foul.

Do you think I did the right thing?

Hope.

I sit in the office, unable to focus on the unread emails piling up in my inbox.  A piece of me feels empty, alone and in need of comfort.  A piece of me I am becoming more and more convinced I may have been born without.  I can't place my finger on it.  I can't explain more than the simple fact that I am acknowledging something is missing.  I don't know what this something is, but it's gone, and I feel incomplete.

I sit at my desk, wondering where to begin; not just with work but with my life, suffocating me as each minute passes.  The feeling of isolation can be unbearable, and if you've never experienced it, be grateful. 

Typing out texts, only to not send them because there's no place or time to be vulnerable today.  Nobody wants to hear it; not co workers, the world of facebook.  Nobody.

I am equally to blame for wanting to keep my feelings to myself today.  I'm not the type of person to blame others, and I'm sure as hell not going to start today.  Or is that my problem?  Do I want to bear responsibility for too many things around me, so much so that I suffocate myself? 

I'm happy with my life 353 days a year.  It's only about one day, every month, that I find myself disgusted, isolated and alone.  I wonder if I ever were to let someone in; would they be able to handle me on these dark seemingly hopeless days?  I fear the worst, and don't dare expect the best; although would expecting the best be some sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy? 

In one of my classes we are studying a woman from the 1940's who undertook a moral journey.  Since the beginning to class, I almost feel like the class should be studying me.  I go back and forth with my own morals (or lack thereof) on a regular basis.  The more we study her, perhaps the more I'll begin to understand myself; as I see far too many debaucherous comparisons between our lives (save for the fact that I'm not living in the 40's, nor am I jewish).

I'm ready for my life to adopt a cheesy saying like "it's come full circle."  (at least I think I'm ready).  I sure as hell know these once a month repeats of feeling gross are becoming less and less enjoyable as each one passes.

At least there are 353 days in a year that I'm more content than any one of those twelve.  Hope.

Immature Messages.

Electronic communication is dangerous; a common lesson I remember hearing the first time when I was still in high school.  Back then, the largest "warning" came to us regarding email.  I distinctly recall being told that once you send something, you can never get it back.  The concept was reinforced in a business writing course I took a couple of years ago.  The perplexing notion that something can be written so easily via electronic text has enveloped most of today's modern society; the trick, you ask, is acquiring a mili-ounce of patience to walk away from an intense message, and return later to reread your text (aka rehearsability) so you are sure the message you send is accurate and/or the message you're really comfortable conveying (comfortable in the sense that you are truly willing to accept and face the consequences your words could potentially bring you).

Stepping off my soapbox for a second, I want to take a minute to admit the difficulty to have that mili-ounce of patience to stop yourself from sending the raging email or text message.  If it were easy, I wouldn't have received a text at midnight from Married guy last night that read:

Note:  I haven't responded to any of his texts since our phone conversation.  I haven't even reached out to him after discovering he had unfriended me on Facebook.  Why is this the third time he's tried cutting me down in just as many days?  I guess he's fallen victim to NOT having a mili-ounce of patience to prevent himself from sending something he might later regret...then again, with the way this dude has been acting perhaps he wants to just squash things for good.  I don't know, all I can do is drive myself crazy with assumptions.

I'll admit, his texts hurt.  I wouldn't go as far to say they make me feel like shit, but I'll certainly admit they hurt.  Why?  Because I know I've been respectful and fair to him.  I know I've been honest and I can't hold myself accountable for his actions based upon the fact that he has chosen not to hear me (all three times we spoke about not speaking until the divorce was final).

I'm thankful he's shown me his true colors of bitter scorn before I got too deep into this situation.  I know I deserve a better person in my life; one who will be honest, and respectful even when we fall upon the unavoidable disagreement.  I know it's not going to be an easy road to find that special person to compliment me, but I still haven't given up hope.  He's out there, so for the moment I'm going to keep doing me and secretively look forward to the day I can look back at my solo years and bid them farewell.

Un-Friended.

Sure I'm going to risk sounding more manic than a committed person; but that moment when anxiety sets in and you realize that yes, in fact, you are alone....yeah, that moment sucks.

It took me almost THREE SEPARATE attempts to end things with married guy.  Not three attempts because I was pussy footing around the situation; three attempts because he was too dense to smell what I was stepping in.  I told him via text twice (only a couple of days apart) that I refused to be the other woman.  I told reminded him that at the end of the day he was married, and it just wasn't fair.  I told him we could start speaking again after his divorce was final....both of my attempts to be clear as crystal were said via text (a safe route as it would provide me with documentation that yes, I was standing my ground).  As it went, he wouldn't even go a couple of hours before texting me again, or commenting on something I had posted on Facebook.

Then the text came through that "I really want to speak with you on the phone" blah blah blah.  His wife had brought up the divorce and he was really excited because he felt as if it was actually going to happen.  Now, I'm all for a guy who has been cheating on his wife for the past five years to finally go through with getting a divorce; but I WILL NOT be a cheering section for an idiot.  However, I humored his request and we spoke on the phone.

The odd part about the conversation was how he avoided speaking about the divorce for the first ten minutes we were talking...It made me angry, so I blurted it out the fact there was an elephant, (a rather large pink polka dotted elephant) in the room.

He got quiet. 

Then he started to sound like he was excited as he verbally explained how the conversation between him and his wife had gone.  I sat silent, then told him we couldn't speak until after the divorce was finalized.  His reply (the reply he also gave me via text more than once) was "I know."  I couldn't help but quickly chime in "NO, NO YOU DON'T KNOW.....AT THE END OF THE DAY YOU ARE MARRIED. THIS ISN'T RIGHT."  All would have been fine and dandy; chances are, he would have given me "space" for about an hour, then text me...and the cycle would have kept repeating.

For whatever reason, I was inspired while speaking on the phone with him...Inspired to try to push him away to the point where history wouldn't keep repeating itself.  What better way to push a guy away then tell him "Hey, I can't be what you need right now.  I just can't.  So if you happen to find a girlfriend and you want to bring her around that's fine with me."  (Insert dagger in chest, twist, remove).

Yeah...he didn't like hearing that.

He promptly followed up through his own clear actions by removing me as a friend on facebook, and blocking me.  Sure, it was bittersweet in that it's something I was meaning to do.  The "girl" inside of me is kind of pissed I didn't have the balls to do it; but then again I wasn't trying to be mean in this entire situation rather respectful, honest and fair (three concepts I believe Married guy falls short of, even in his 6'7 stature).

Dancing Like Nobody's Watching {even though everyone on the roads can CLEARLY see me through my car windows}

The bass, drums, random sounds all compiling together to make up a song.  A song that could flip your mood instantaneously.  A sound that brings you back to a specific moment in time, as if you were reliving life all over again, traveling back to the future.

I really am a lucky person.  I work a day-job, and have a consistent schedule of working Monday through Friday.  The downside?  T to the RAFFIC.  Traffic becomes my morning routine.  The bump and grind, if you will. 

There are few things that prevent me from flipping the bird to my own personal hell (also known as being stuck in traffic WELL BEYOND MY CONTROL).  One of those things happens to be music.  I'm almost chuckling as I write this, because I am NOT a music officianado.  I'm a top 40's girl, be it in pop or country.  Rarely to I dive into music before the 90's.  Earlier this year, for a few short months I had access to complimentary Sirius Satellite radio; the 90's were CONSTANTLY bumping through my speakers.  Since I'm too darn frugal to pay for things like commercial free radio; I've come up with some new alternatives.

The first alternative is to blast Pandora through my cell phone.  One minor luxury with owning a newer vehicle is having USB connections, and the electronic capability to sync your phone with your car stereo...It's provided me with some great traffic-fighting music.

The other alternative is dusting off my old iPod.  I have a few short playlists with tunes that pump me up.  There's very little shame in my game; driving in traffic is no different.  The second that magical song starts its beat in my speakers I immediately begin my driver's seat tango.  I bop up and down, side to side, shout out the lyrics; I'm certain I look down-right crazy. 

Here are a few jams that put a smile on my face, and some pep in my traffic-fighting step. (note: don't judge, I already told you...I'm NOT a musically deep person)

LMFAO's Party Rock Anthem ALWAYS gets me bumpin and jumpin...even when traffic is at it's worst.  At the very least, I'm doing the drivers around me a service...best be sure I look like a goof ball, which hopefully makes a few of my traffic-fighting patrons smile.

An oldie but goodie.  The sound of the steal drums and the visions buffet paints in your head of palm trees and paradise; can it get any better when you're stuck in traffic?  I didn't think so.

This last little tasty treat is a bit blurry (yes, I took this while driving into work...and no, I don't feel guilty about taking pictures while I'm driving; it's how I live on the edge).

Some other current favorite drive-time jams are Alex Clare's Too Close, Little Big Town's Pontoon, Sublime, and Blurred Lines (although I'll be the first to admit the video kind of disturbs me a little).  

Do you have any favorite drive-time traffic-fighting tunes?

It's not a tumor...or is it?

Confidence is key.  Key to being happy or pretending you're happy (even when you aren't).  I'm doing my best to fake my happiness until it becomes my truthful reality.  I slap a smile on every single day, make conversations with those around me, never ceasing to add my own sarcastically witty humor at every moment I get.  I often wonder just how long I'm going to have to fake it until it really does become my reality?

The text message makes conversations far too easy...that and I have a damn hard time controlling my impulses; especially after I've had a few drinks.  In thinking back, my lack of impulse control is exactly what got me into the married dude debacle in the first place!

The way he made me feel still seems unbelievable; a falacy at best.  I am still recovering from the pain of realizing his words, words I had only dreamed about being told, were empty yet riddled with ulterior motives.  I don't know if I'll ever understand why this has affected me so deeply; but since I'm staying honest and true to myself I would only be lying if I said that it didn't.

Words can be such a powerful thing; getting emotions involved and you've entered a new ballpark.  Add the fact that most of today's society communicates SOLEY via written text (in the gloriously disgusting form of text messages) and I firmly believe we've entered a new universe.  Text leaves tone and non verbals completely to be decided upon by the receiver of the text.  There's no clear cut way of conveying tone in your message via text; sure, you could TRY to insert an emoticon (which I'm GUILTY OF DOING EVERY SINGLE DAY), but it's still not the same.  Perhaps that's why I feel stuck in an old-school mentality; I yearn to hear a person's voice, intonations, and hear their emotion in messages they're sending my way...particularly when it's someone I'm interested in.

For about a week I had been great about not responding to him.  A long, consuming week....but then some drinks were had and before I knew it I found myself sobbing on my couch hanging onto every single text he was sending my way, and promptly responding.  How do I cut him out of my life for good, to make room for other men who might be everything I've hoped for and more?  Is he a good distraction so, in the event I find such an amazing person, I don't overwhelm them and say too much too soon?

It doesn't help that not only do we have to fight with text messaging, but we have Facebook.  OF COURSE I'm Facebook friends with married guy.  OF COURSE he constantly "likes" things I post and comments almost daily.  OF COURSE HE DOES.  I'm beginning to fear he is like a cancer....growing ever more present in my life, yet toxic at the same time. 

A Clean Beginning

Dinner, laundry, taking out the trash, being on the constant alert for cries of "moooooooooom", working, trying to keep track of bills although I could swear my bills must have gremlin like traits because they keep multiplying (my son must be feeding them after midnight, or the dog must be watering them...I should look into that).  Being a parent is far from easy.  Being a solo parent presents a new set of challenges; challenges that go far beyond that of finding time for a romantic life among my chaos.  

First, I'm only one person; I can't only work so many hours in a day/week, etc.  I can only do so many parent and non-parent like things at once.  In my son's eyes there are times I might seem like a super hero, but here's a shocking truth:  I'm human.  My house is filled with random splurts of clutter.  The clutter sits and multiplies (much like my bills) not only because I'm only one person, but I have no idea where to PUT it all.  I'm coming to a point where I'm just going to get rid of everything, but I'm not quite there yet.  

There are the rare moments where I have this surprising burst of energy, and I decide I'm going to conquer the clutter.  I typically begin with the kitchen, and while my motivation is still in full force I meander into my living room capturing every last dust bunny that has made its home under my couch.  I throw away random wrappers that must have walked put themselves between my couch cushions, because there's no way my far from perfect littler boy would have done such a thing (HA!).

The next spot on my motivational cleaning spree is the bathroom.  It usually doesn't take much effort and is more chemically dependent than any other room in my house.  A few scrubs here, empty the trash, and I'm done...I have a house that feels company ready, and I typically revert to my living room at that point and retreat with a smile on my face; conveniently forgetting that both mine and my son's bedrooms haven't been touched yet.  There's also my dreaded office; a room in my house I lost control of the second day I had moved in....the office primed for the television show Hoarders, as it's become my classic dump zone of items I just don't know what to do with.  

But back to the bedrooms....because that's where I typically hit a wall.  Not just any wall, a combination of the great wall of China and the Berlin Wall (prior to demolition).

Bless my son's little heart, but his room manages to whip itself into a disaster zone within the blink of an eye.  The funny thing is I've taken away 90% of his toys because I was sick of picking up after him...but lone behold he always finds away to scatter randomness about.  The great thing about him growing up is I can now hold him more accountable for picking his room up....that is, now that I've rid him of the majority of his clutter.  

By this time, all my motivation is gone.  I allow myself to ignore my room because it's mine, and if I'm fine with it being a fire hazard then all is well in the world....except it's far from well.  Typically the only times I muster the miraculous extra bit of energy to clean my room is if I'm interested in a man (which sounds odd and horrible).  After all, why would I want a perfect stranger to know that I'm not a superhero, that I have a damn hard time taking care of me because I always put my family first?  Something comes over me, and I find a way to make things look neat; presentable.  

The trouble with my current method of paying attention to ME was it has been a loooooooong while since I've been interested in a man.  Months, close to going on more than a year.  Depressing, in more ways than one.  Looking at my disaster-zone of a room, I'm reminded daily how long it has been since I've had a love interest.  What better time to allow myself to take care of me but a national holiday?  I woke up the morning of Labor Day and decided it would be the day where I would rid myself of my cluttered room, take care of my monstrous piles of laundry, and (GASP!) clean my sheets (I know that last bit sounds incredibly sad, but remember, it's been me and only me...).  

It's taken me three hours to clear my floors, and find places for the piles of unwelcome things that had been forcing me to tip toe to and from my bed.  As I sit here typing I feel like I've had a mountainous burden lifted from my back.  My room is no longer something for me to be embarrassed about, it's my own little sanctuary.  A quiet place I can retreat to for school work, for me-time, and maybe even someday to bring a romantic love interest.  It feels amazing to take care of me without the ulterior motive of a visit from a guy I'm interested in.  I feel like I can truly walk up and down the streets as if I'm actually put together (aside from my massive amounts of bills piling up...but nobody's perfect, right?!).

Thriving Single

The sun was beating down at the perfect angle; brightening the colors of the yellow wildflowers and showcasing the dancing grass being tussled by the wind.  The same wind felt refreshing and reminded me autumn is just around the corner.  We decided to embark on a Sunday morning bike ride through the trails around the corner of our home.  We don't get out on these trails often enough, but today our itinerary was blank, and as time passes me by quickly I realize there's no better time than now.

As my boy, no longer little but not yet an adult, peddled in front of me I felt as if I was clubbed upside the head.  There are only so many more bike rides we will take together.  I notice how, as each year passes, the hills become that much easier for him to conquer.  His muscles are becoming more defined.  As I am growing older, so is he.  As we wound through the trail he let his hoodie unzip, and it spread out behind him as if it were his super hero cape.  What he doesn't know is he's my super hero, always has been and always will be.

Looking around as we were biking by, there was calmness surrounding us with the faint sound of the highway in the distance.  We were tucked inside a bit of preserved nature, yet just outside the gates bustled the city.  Our pace kept that of the flying swallows.  I can only imagine what the land around us has witnessed.  Ever changing landscapes that gracefully flow from season to season.  Countless different varieties of wild life who have sought refugee among the brush alongside the creek.  We're not much different than those who have sheltered here, for we find shelter nearby as well.

Letting the here and now seep through my bones, I know I am where I need to be.  I know I'm doing what I need to do for myself and my family.  Surviving single isn't a curse, but more or less a blessing.  The only "single" attribute in my life is that I don't have a romantic partner to share my bed with.  I don't have a constant stream of financial support to accompany the long hours I spend at work to earn my own living wage.  And without that partner, I don't have someone to run my thoughts past, or ask for a second opinion on my choice apparel.  But what I have today is far greater.  I have a family; a boy growing up faster than I can blink my eyes.  I have a lovely little dog who is spunky as hell and keeps me on my toes more than a toddler would.  I have a house I call home, and a place to dig around in the dirt.  I have gardens I can visit daily, and say hello to hummingbirds who flutter but three feet from me to try their luck for nectar from the flowers I've planted and kept healthy.

I'm not a religious person, but I know I'm blessed.  I know I'm much more fortunate than those around me.  Even when yearning for more, I know within my heart of hearts what I have is truly amazing.  It is happy.  It is home.  It is my life, thriving single.

Playing with Fire

Strike a match and watch it burn.  If you let the match burn for too long, the inevitable happens.  You get burned.

I've heard others say how dating can be no different than playing with fire; more specifically when dating turns complicated.  I'm here to tell you, I find it difficult to fathom dating becoming more complicated than a married man being interested in you.

I like to believe I'm a rational person.  I also would like to believe I'm open to the possibility of love.  In this instance, I'm not pushing him away through my honesty (at least not intentionally).  I can't allow myself to be burned by letting this match burn too long.  There's too much at stake.  My emotional well being, toppled by the fact a new semester is beginning in a week, my son returns to school, my job is only getting busier, and the laundry can't seem to complete itself without my involvement.  I don't have time to nurse wounds right now.  I want to let him in, but I can't because I know the inevitable burn blister will fester, eventually pop and quite possibly lead to a wicked nasty infection that I don't have the time, patience or energy to devote to healing.

Damn.

In moments like these I long for life to be easy...if only once.  I remember his touch.  His smile made me melt and his mannerisms I find to be endearing. 

No different than ripping a band aid off on the count of 2 instead of 3, I need to rip myself from this situation.  I need to walk away with my head high knowing that I'll find a man who feels the same way, having faith he exists not within the contexts of ALREADY BEING MARRIED.  I'm far from perfect, but I have morals I am unwilling to compromise.  I know in my heart of hearts I deserve more, as does my baby boy.

Today the smell of sulfur from the match I've blown out gives me peace.  I know, so long as the match remains snuffed out, I have done the right thing.