Fooling the Fool

“Not all scars show, not all wounds heal, sometimes you can’t see the pain someone else feels”

Once upon a time I felt like I was on top of the world. Now I feel like I am on the bottom. Once I thought my life was falling into place. Now I feel like it has fallen apart. So Who am I Fooling? Can’t they see behind this mask? Don’t they feel my pain?

I’ve been down in the dumps the last few days. Or is it months? I can’t remember. It seems this year I’ve been more sad than happy, more down than up, more tearful then cheery. And by now it’s hard to remember when I’ve been gloomy or why. On the up side it does make it easy to recall the few great moments I’ve had. Those few passionate kisses, the rare moonlight strolls, the gentle touch of hands wiping away my tears, the tights bear hugs, the memorable chats that seemed to go on forever, the wild dancing in the nights, the reckless drunken moments of craziness, the rolling laughter and the fun.

Yes they say that in order to truly appreciate the good one must first experience bad. But who are we fooling? Would I have enjoyed the good less if I wasn’t in such a slump? Can good not be fully appreciated when contrasted with neutrality or indifference rather than with bad?

I know I know. I’ve heard it all before. “Love yourself first”, “Learn to be happy on your own”, “It’s empowering not to need a man”, and “You are more than the men you like”. But as much as I keep hearing these things, I also know that the whole Fake It Till You Make It isn’t really working for me. Either I really like being in victim mode, or I just don’t know how to stop feeling sorry for myself. I want to stop looking at other couples in envy. I want to stop being jealous when I see a pregnant lady walking by. I want the dream. YES I want to be in a relationship. And not just any relationship, but a LOVING relationship. Not because I’m pathetic, or weak or lack self-esteem when I’m on my own. But because I’m human. And we humans, as the social animals that we are want contact. Someone else to be with, to share ourselves with, to laugh with, to love. Is it so wrong to want it? Is it so bad to think I deserve it?

 I’m not sure if people don’t realize or just don’t want to realize how sad I am. They see this as a fresh start to my new life. All doors are wide open and I am free to walk through any one of them. But those who truly know me can probably tell that although I keep myself busy,no not just busy but exhausted. Although I am overloaded with work, and surrounded by friends… I am not in a happy place. Not just yet.

Time Heals All Pain…

…but for some it may take a little longer.

As it snows once again on the pages of my blog, I suddenly realize that it’s been more than a year since I’ve been blogging. More than a year since I’ve been writing, sharing my deepest feelings and my inner-most thoughts. More than a year of hurting, crying and then bleeding it out on these pages in dire need of support, of a listening ear, sometimes in need of more.

Only a few months ago this was my canvas and I needed my words spilt across it like blood. I was an emotional wreck, out of control. And in an attempt to fill the pain of lost love, I drowned myself in wild nights of dancing filled with men and rum. I am not sure which one I consumed more of…either way, it never seemed enough.

Time, it changes everything. Just a few months ago I was a mess. Today… today I woke up and as I sat up in bed and saw myself in the mirror in front of me, I noticed that I was alone. I smiled sadly at the reflection and pondered at my new reality. Only a year ago I would have woken up in his arms. Feeling warm, comforted, and secure.

Thankfully the thought did not linger long. It’s not that I’m over him. But I guess I’m adjusting to this new life. I cannot say that I do not think about him. His name crosses my lips at least once a day and he is often present in my thoughts. At times I just wonder what he’s doing, or how he’s doing without me. And when I feel particularly lonely,  I ruminate if I would have been happier with him right now.

Mostly I allow my mind to remember only the good which makes me reminisce. But once in a while a waft of bad memories come flooding into my mind. And then I wonder if it’s truly him I’m missing or just the feeling of being in a relationship and of being loved. Cause “maybe, just maybe, the best thing we can ever do is admit and accept that someone isn’t right for us. Even if at one point, we swore they were Mr. Right.”

Blind Love

“Kissing is a means of getting two people so close together that they can’t see anything wrong with each other.”

Now that my double vision is finally clear, I have come to appreciate that although unintentionally, I like so many others have been a charlatan, and knowing this now means that I realize the hypocrisy of my own words. Just a few months ago it was me who didn’t want to be woken up, me who was living in a dream world. Me who was ignoring the blinding red flags and keeping my eyes wide shut. When it comes to love we’re all just hypocrites. We don’t get to pick who we fall in love with. And most of us see what we want to see when we love someone and sometimes we get taken for a real ride.

As outsiders it’s easy. We see the truth as it is. We are objective and are vision is nowhere near blurry. So we go around telling people what to do and what not to, what to feel and how to love. We all become “accredited” psychologists capable of giving love prescriptions and advice. We analyze the situation, and we hastily give our recommendations out.

And if were not psychologists we’re psychics with a clairvoyance of the future, capable of foreseeing the disasters ahead, and instantly ready to give our word of advice, call attention to the red flags and highlight the “should be obvious” warning signs.

We know the difference between wrong and right. We can see when someone is just no good, and so we rush to expose the truth and tell our friends to move on. Everyone is a big shot when it comes to giving others counsel, or telling others what to do. We are know-it-alls. Quick to judge and criticize, predict and warn. And sometimes when we’re not cautious we accidentally spit out the not necessary “I told you so” card.

But when it happens to you, when you’re the one that’s foolishly in love… it’s different. When it comes to our own lives we’re not only blind to the truth (those signs and signals staring us in the face), but we’re also deaf to the lies. Not only do we not listen to others but we don’t even take our own advice (the one we would have been so quick to give other). Suddenly we do irrational, silly, and uncharacteristic things “in the name of love”. We make excuses, we ignore the negative signs. We only listen to our heart, because if you “win the heart the mind will follow, and the intellect can always find logic to justify what the heart has already decided.” We’re ready to make our own mistakes. We’ll ditch friends, we’ll steal, we’ll fight, we’ll fake and betray ourselves. Some of us cheat. Others turn a blind eye.

“But love is blind and lovers cannot see
the pretty follies that themselves commit.”

Shakespeare

The Love of a Father

I’ve been pondering lately about why it is that some girls like me have this vision of prince charming on his magnificent white horse? Why are we always on this hunt for Mr. Right? What has led us to believe that we will bump into this perfect stranger and that this stranger might be the “one”? The one, who fits us flawlessly, thinks we’re perfectly wonderful, sexy and smart. He laughs at our jokes, is interested in what we have to say, and completes us in every way. And best of all he wants to be with us till death do us part.

And then it hit me. My whole life I’ve grown around that man. That wonderful person who has been a constant in my life. The first love of my life, my father.  This is a man who has always made me feel good about myself. Told me how beautiful and bright I was, listened to everything I had to say, gave me security when I needed it but also pushed me forward to reach the horizon.

A man who ran behind my bike for the 100^th time to prevent me from falling and bruising my knees because this girl had (and still has) no sense of balance.

A man who sang me songs before bedtime with his beautiful voice; songs which till this very day when I hear them make me tear up. And as I grew up  he read me bedtime stories and books. We read the hobbit together when I was only five. Chapter by chapter we would solve the riddles making our way to the end of the adventurous tale.

A man who had pneumonia for a week after jumping into the chilly waters of Lake Michigan in the breezy April air to get my $1 Frisbee which had fallen in, and I couldn’t bear to live without.

A man who broke his arm, as he let go of his daughter’s hand to twirl around on the ice skating rink, trying to impress me. Mission accomplished dad I’m impressed!

A man who sadly accepted his little girl would never be the math whiz he was, but would still sit with me till the early hours of dawn, tears in his eyes and frustration plastered all over his face, helping me study for a mathematics exam, as we sat side by side solving the problems away.

The more I think about it, the more clear it seems to me, that the reason I still believe in love, in relationships and in men; the reason I still believe that one day I’ll find a man who is so wonderful, so caring, so loving, and so worth it…is because I know they exist. I’ve been lucky enough to meet that man and grow up at his side. Or maybe I should say my mother was lucky (and smart) enough to meet him, fall in love with him and marry him.

Happy Birthday Dad! Here’s to many more years spent together.

Different Versions of Me

I read recently that every person has different versions of themselves. A woman for instance can have “the soft feminine version of her, the protective masculine side, the naughty sexy her, the adventurous her, or the fun-loving side”.

 It got me thinking… could it be that different people get to see different versions of me? My friends have all said that when they’ve looked they see me as a confident, intelligent woman. Sarcastic, but sweet. Not shy or reserved.  Talkative and flirtatious; courageous, sexy, a little wild, spontaneous and fun.

But it seems that when in proximity of an object of my infatuation I seem to lose my sense of self. I change for the men I like. I become weak, and let them control me. I organize my life around them.  And thus a new me is defined. Just as I mold myself to fit perfectly into their strong muscular arms, I change just a little to impress them and make sure that they stay for at least a little while. I make myself someone they could love, hiding my imperfections and  concealing my emotional side, trying to fit perfectly into their lives. So it’s no wonder I get the dates, I lure them in with my witty remarks, poise, and charm. But by the time the third date comes around I become someone who tries to please. I am a different version than the woman they encountered the first time.

If each version of me leads to a different outcome, a different future, a different love; I need to figure out which version of me will lead me to Mr. Right, rather than Mr. Right now.

Things I Love About You

I love the way you TASTE

I love the way you SMELL

I love the way you SPEAK

I love the way you WRITE

I love the way you LAUGH

I love the way you DANCE

I love the way you KISS

I love the way you TOUCH

I love the way you FEEL

I love the way you HUG

I love the way you LOVE

Surviving the Game

I read a cute girly book recently. I’ve been reading loads of those. Which hasn’t been helping my self-esteem, since like in all other romantic novels the end is always the same: the girl gets the boy, they are passionately in love, and of-course they get married and live happily-ever-after.

But before the girl gets the boy she has to find him, attract him, and make him fall desperately in love. And what are the rules of the game?

Be cool. Be detached. Be aloof. Be bulletproof. Act brutal. Stay in control. Always leave them before they leave you.

Pfff. Are those the things a girl needs to be in order to survive the dating jungle? Since when are we in control of our emotions so much so that we can stay all those things mentioned above? Detached, Bulletproof. Ha. If I like a guy and he makes me weak in the knees I definitely cannot stay detached. And if that guy doesn’t call me like he said he would I definitely cannot stay bulletproof.

When I like you and I’m with you, I feel giggly and light as if I’m floating on air. And when you lean over to kiss me, I feel my feet stumble beneath me as I melt into your arms. When your hand brushes my hair I get the butterfly feeling inside, and when you squeeze my hand ever so gently, I feel ecstatic with delight. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, and I want your lips to be the last thing I kiss before I close my eyes at night. That’s just the way I like, that’s the way I love. But when I’m waiting by the phone endlessly for your call, my stomach gets tied up in knots. And when I feel you pulling away I start to crumble as my heart gets torn apart.

“I am an Emotional Creature. I know when a storm is coming. I can feel the invisible stirrings in the air. I can tell you he won’t call back… I love that I do not take things lightly. The way I hear bad news. The way it’s unbearable when I lose. I know that one kiss can take away all my decision-making ability. Don’t tell me not to cry. To calm it down. Not to be so extreme. To be reasonable… I am an emotional creature. Why would you want to shut me down or turn me off?” Eve Ensler

The Hunt for Mr. Right

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I want the fairytale!”

As children we get brainwashed with fairy-tales of a happily-ever-after, believing that the princess always gets rescued by the prince. Indulged with girly fantasies, we grow up blinded by the fairy dust into assuming that we’ll know when we’ve found the “one” just by the way we got kissed. Even Hollywood spoon feeds us with dreamy impossibilities. After all, we all should know that the chance of sitting next to someone hot on a plane rarely happens. Let alone falling in love with them. Right?

With these fictitious ideas and fantasies in our minds, girls go through life believing that we cannot be alone, we weren’t meant to be. We need to be rescued by our knight in shining armor and swept off our feet into the sunset.  With foolishly romantic notions trapped not in the back of our minds but right in the forefront, it’s no wonder that we girls become hopeless romantics who need men in our lives, to validate us. To make us feel important, pretty, and complete.  After all no Barbie is complete without her Ken.

The problem with fairytales is that they set us girls up for disappointment. In real life the prince goes off with the wrong princess. And men rarely make extravagant and overly romantic gestures to profess their undying love. Yet still we obsess about these possibilities. Hoping that we are the exception and that the Cinderella story was truly told about us.

We get lost in making excuses for the men we love or even just like. We ignore warning flags; but foolishly create illusionary signs. We see what we want to see, twisting “potential partner” to “promising spouse”. We put faith in the heaven, god and the stars. We call it destiny or fate. And with these silly hopes and beliefs we begin our search, correction our hunt to find Mr. Right.

Warning Signs

“Women marry men hoping they will change.
Men marry women hoping they will not.
So each is inevitably disappointed”

No I won’t try to change you; shape you, mold you, or turn you into something you’re not; or worse something you don’t want to be. You’re not a project I’m working on.

 I’ve learned my lesson. People are inherently different. Some of us are family people; wired to be part of a “we”, an inseparable duo. Comfortable in relationships, adept in the art of communication, listening, giving attention and affection. Content in coming home to someone, and sharing every detail of our petty little lives. While some of us are not so much.

I am the relationship type. I’m the kind of gal that doesn’t need much “me” time. I take it when you need yours. Sure I don’t mind if you go out with your mates for a beer, or if you want to watch basketball, or soccer on TV some nights. But when you’re with me, I want attention, and lots of it. “I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.” I want you to hold me, touch me, dine me, romance me, confide in me, cuddle me, and love me till break-up do us part.

Maybe you call that smothering, needy clingy or weak. Maybe you even call me an attention whore. I just call that love. I’m looking for the kind of person who wants to share his life with me, who can’t be without me. Whose eyes light up when he sees me, whose voice trembles as he whispers my name, who breathes me in like air, and misses me when I’m not around.

I learned from my previous relationship that “the one who loves the least is the one who controls the relationship”. I’m not ready to give that control to anyone right now. So if you’re being vague and giving me mixed signals; if you’ve got “potential” but the red flags are all over the place; its time for me to drop the hook back in the water. There are plenty of fish in the sea. I don’t want to give more love than I’m getting. So if you love me less than I love you it’s a sign. It’s a sign that you’re not ready, or maybe not looking for the same things in life.

And with that, its time for me to move on. NEXT!

Forbidden Temptation

There’s no greater pleasure than surrendering to temptation.

You had been out of my mind for years, buried deep in my past. You had been forgotten, and the tears I shed for you had already long dried. Then unexpectedly as if from another universe you reappeared and waltzed yourself back into my life.

Little effort did you need to intrigue me once more, re-capture my attention, and melt me in the palm of your hand. Pretentious and eloquent you seduced me with your mischievous and sexy words, whispering sweet nothings into my ears as you began to play a little game with my heart.

Thoughts of you began wafting through my mind endlessly, and my infatuation with you grew as the days passed by. I yearned for you with such fervent desire. I hungered for us to be together in the most carnal way imaginable. You had become an addiction for which I wanted an overdose. Irresistible to me, I could no longer wait for your touch. And so I took a risk and let down my guard. I rushed into your arms, and in return you enveloped me with the warmth and affection that I craved so much.

In a race against time, I entrusted you with my most intimate self, lest the dream would shatter, and the intoxicating illusion we were in would turn to dust. Completely caught up in this spell you cast me under, I was sucked into a beautiful fairytale, and I succumbed to my most sensual desires.

With my heart wildly racing, and my body tingling with excitement, I let go of reality and gave into the fantasy. The intensity of the moment, so hot, so passionate, overwhelmed me. I could not remember the last time I had wanted something so much. And in the heat of the moment, I could not stop. With words unspoken you made me feel sexy, and desirable. Your lips were sweet and delicious. I craved for your kisses to last an eternity, for I just couldn’t seem to get enough. Wrapping my legs around your waist I drew you to me. Arms wrapped up in one another, fingers laced, hands gripping flesh, teeth biting shoulders. Straining my neck to kiss you as your grip tightened and you pushed your body against mine. I could feel your heart beating quickly, your breath warm on mine. Lost in the sensational moment which seemed to last forever, I was yours, and in that moment you were mine.

Two weeks of blissful indulgence before I landed back in reality. You were no longer there. The thrill for you now gone, forced me in to playing the waiting game. Leaving me restless with unanswered questions: will you call, will you write? Will you still love me tomorrow?

Days have gone by, your silence crushing me, left my soul tortured. Feeling tiny and invisible, emptiness consumed me. You have stripped off not only my clothes, but also the walls protecting my heart. Bleeding, my veins have been cut open for you; my beautifully-broken heart naked, exposed and fragile. And as your memory fades away, I wonder if the pleasure outweighs the pain? If for you it was just lust? And if we’ll ever meet again?