On the verge

Of giving up. I had a disheartening chat with an ex-turned-confidante today. I'm thisclose to throwing up my hands and giving up in the game of love. We were talking about reciprocity in relationships. It never seems to be even. One person always seems to dig the other person more. Sometimes it works out. When you meet your match, the one who can challenge you but still stay on the same level as you, that's it. Game over. But more often than not, one person is the chaser and the other simply concedes.

All of that is kind of a given. That isn't what depresses me. What depresses me is that during the course of our conversation, it became more and more apparent to me that the average guy suffers from a constant case of grass-is-greener syndrome when it comes to women. Particularly, the meticulous, borderline-anal, diligent nerdy types I find myself inexplixably attracted to time and time again, those guys are the worst because they can't shake that nagging feeling that there's something better out there, whether it's a better woman or a better job or a better lifestyle. I think women are more accepting of flaws. They don't expect their men to be absolutely perfect. Of course, there are the deal-breakers like furry backs or nervous ticks or chronic unemployment, but I think women are more forgiving when a man doesn't meet every item on her wishlist, and less inclined to stray if they've found a man they love.

The average man, however, can see better than he can think. So even when he's in a committed relationship, if he meets a girl that he thinks has the potential to meet more of his wishlist criteria, he becomes curious. He doesn't always stray, but he wonders if the cool girl he ran into at those parties is really as cool as she seemed the first few times he met her. If he pursues her, he's bound to discover that she, too, falls short of his fantasy. Most of the men I know have an ideal woman in mind. And whether they are cognizant of it or not, they chase this nonexistent figment of their imaginations, often leaving behind them a massacred trail of broken hearts. The hardworking, responsible types I tend to fall for are the types of guys who are annoyed by my flightiness and lack of planning and eagerness to cut corners in non-relationship-related arenas like school (I hardly ever attended class in college and cranked out 20 page papers in one night) or work. It bugs them that their mate may not be as dedicated as they are *gasp* to their work. They want the "good girl" type who is polite and proper but cute and fun, who works hard in school and after school trying to climb up that corporate ladder, who has had maybe one or two boyfriends but is not necessarily prude, the type you might run into at church or at the corner coffeeshop reading the latest bestseller. I'm not saying all guys dig that type of girl. I'm saying the ones I like always do.

Enter me: loves to party, dance, drink, and socialize. I work hard for the things/ people that I love. I am passionate, mostly about my loved ones. I'm the type of girl who flits about aimlessly, but when I fall, I fall like a wrecking ball at a demolition site: hard, fast, and a little dangerously. Except at a demolition site, someone's taking precautions to make sure no one gets hurt. There is no such caution exercised when I fall.

I'm not the perfect girl my nerdy boys have been chasing in their dreams. But I think they're being too closed-minded. Maybe I'm just what they need. I can be the kite, head in the clouds and a little unpredictable, and they can be my anchor, ground me, give me something stable to hold on to and come back to. I can't help falling for these guys who have an entirely different girl in mind as "the One." Wake up, fellas. The perfect woman is not some fish you have yet to meet in this vast sea of dating possibilities. She doesn't exist. At some point, you're going to find a fish who might not be as brilliant as you'd like, whose scales might not be quite as shiny as some of the other fish-chicks, who, God forbid, may not come from the best fish family in your neck of the sea, but who loves you unconditionally, despite all your shortcomings. You may not get to check everything off on your wishlist, but don't think of it as settling for something less than you deserve.

Life is not a movie. You can fall in desperately, hopelessly, perfectly, can't-live-without-you kind of love with a person who doesn't fit into some pre-conceived mold. Maybe there's a better mold out there for you that you just don't know about yet. Maybe I'm partly to blame since I can't seem to stop being attracted to the meticulous, borderline-anal, diligent nerdy types. Maybe I'm being hypocritical. If I liked a different type of guy, maybe he'd be more inclined to like me back. It's masochistic, really, going for a guy you know probably won't like you back as much as you like him. But don't let me give up, guys. Love me for who I am, dammit. Look no further. Follow through...

Maybe I'm crazy

I spent Thanksgiving, not with family, but with a special friend of mine. Thanksgiving break for me began on Tuesday morning. I was completely and totally unproductive at work because I was far too excited to care much about being productive. By the time I actually went to the airport to pick up my guest, I was pretty much worthless the rest of the day.

I made lasagna from scratch for the first time ever. It was a little bit undersauced, but I think it was acceptable as a first attempt from someone who didn't even have a recipe for it. I was surprised to discover C's complete and utter lack of BBQ skills. Isn't it like an unwritten rule that men are supposed to know how to grill, even if they can't cook to save their lives? I really wanted to see Pride and Prejudice and he humoured me. After the movie, he shocked me: Caveman C actually enjoyed the movie. He calls me Mrs. Darcy sometimes. I can only assume that it suggests he is incandescently happy. When I asked him what animal he felt best represented him, he said he's most like a beaver: industrious, hardworking, always trying to build that dam(n) only to have it swept away with one little leak. C asked me why I dated Frenchy. I didn't know it had bothered him so much. I didn't think he cared. He thinks the cartoon character that best represents me is Garfield: clever but always looking for a way to cut corners. He also didn't say he thought I was a fatso cat who likes to eat all the time, but I think that's pretty accurate, too. We played a lot of Scrabble, and we even took a blanket outside and played Scrabble in the park. What a granny thing to do, huh? I don't like watching the Discovery Health Channel; I find it "soporific," which was the vocabulary word of the week.

We still talk on the phone nightly, and when I go out, I feel this strange nonchalance about meeting men. We're not together, and I suppose if I met someone who absolutely blew me away, I'd be open to going on a date, but I've really been ducking some guys I met before who want to hang out, and I would rather go home and talk to C. I have hung out with guy friends and actually felt a little guilty about our closeness, as if I were doing something wrong, though I know I didn't. It's weird. Yet I don't feel a need to give us a title. I like the way we are right now, but I know I'd be hurt if I found out he was seeing someone else or dating around. But 3000 miles is long ways apart.

Maybe I am not the one you had in mind
Maybe I'm not the one that you thought was your type
Maybe I'm not the one that you've been dreaming of
Maybe I'm not the one you thought would bring you love

But maybe I'm just what you need
And maybe I

You tell me I think too much
You say that I dream too much
And tell me I feel too much
Yeah maybe I do

You say that I say too much
You tell me I believe too much
And maybe I hope too much
Maybe you do too

I don't need to be the one to change your life
I don't need to be the one you call your wife
And I don't need to be the one that you run to
And I don't need to be everything to you

But maybe I'm just what you need
And maybe I

You tell me I think too much
You say that I dream too much
And tell me I feel too much
Yeah maybe I do

You say that I say too much
You tell me I believe too much
And maybe I hope too much
Maybe you do too Follow through...

Dear D & S

Until today, I wasn't angry with either of you. I have known for weeks that you, D, my old roommate and supposed friend, and you, S, my ex boyfriend and supposed best friend, were intimate with one another. I didn't care that you did it to get back at me. I thought it pathetic, really. S, you were mad because I started seeing someone new. D, you had to make up a reason to be mad at me. But what made it all so pathetic was that you wanted to hurt me but then you were both too cowardly to be open about it. And you, D, are so self righteous. You pass judgment on anyone and everyone when you are clearly no saint yourself. Poor W. I can't believe that he has no idea that he is not the only one you have been with. You've been with him for nearly what... eight years now? You must be very bored. Very unhappy. And very scared. You won't let go of W because you are so scared of change, of having to put in the effort of finding someone who might actually fulfill you. And S: it's too bad you were so wildly jealous after our breakup. Yes, I hooked up with J on Memorial Day weekend. Long after you and I had called it quits in March. You and J didn't even know each other, and it's not like I was doing anything wrong by moving on and finding someone new, although I must concede that another coworker was probably in bad taste. But I didn't choose him to spite you. I didn't want to spite you. It's not like I decided to hook up with your roommates or anything.

When I first heard that the phrase "D gives great head" came out from S's mouth, I was in shock, and I felt betrayed, but not angry. In fact, I thought it rather sad. My old roommate, you are trapped in a relationship where you are bored to tears but won't get out because you don't know what you'd do without him to fight passionately with you about the most trivial things (thereby feeding your seemingly insatiable penchant for drama) and to pay for your dinners and to buy you your designer purses. My old boyfriend, you say to this day that you love me and you'll love me forever, that all of the songs you have written for your first album are about me. Your inability to enjoy life without the aid of any kind of drug enhancement is maddening, and it made you paranoid. You were convinced that J and I had hooked up long before we ever so much as thought of kissing, and that paranoia drove you into a rage against me.

All of that, like I mentioned before, is forgivable. I have spoken to both of you since, and cordially. I have made no mention of my knowledge, mostly bc I like to avoid drama if possible. (It is awfully good at seeking me out, though.) But then tonight I discovered that the first of your intimate encounters was back in early December after the company Christmas party. I was passed out in my bed, and you were both on D's bed... in the same room as me, as D and I shared a room.

I cannot be friends with either of you any longer, and while I'd like to tell you why, I don't know that you even deserve an explanation.

And D: I would never stoop so low as to tell W just to get back at you. Anger is fleeting; I know this will pass. But this overwhelming feeling of pity and an understanding that you both lack character: it will remain.

Signed,
Me Follow through...

Perfect

C called me today. He just got back from Fiji and called me on his way home from the airport. I miss him. He likes to think we're perfect for each other because we are polar opposites. He said that to me today. Perfect. Us?!? We're like... poster children for how relationships should not work. Distance and absence make fools of us because the memories become blurred and we tend to want to fill in the gaps, and more often than not we fill them with shiny, happy memories as we've blocked the bad ones out already. I think we are weird together. And apart. I don't know that I'll ever see him again. He's not yet done with med school and who knows where he'll end up for his residency. What strikes me is the noticeable change he's undergone over the past year. I feel that he has become notably different. Perhaps he is simply the longest lasting of my many ex hangups and I am just imagining things to justify holding on; I don't know. But I like to think that people can change, that boys mature into men, and that eventually, we all receive the kind of love we deserve... Follow through...

Old flame

Is it possible to love a man you once knew, long after you knew him? There is a man I have not been able to let go of. I never loved him, at least not to my knowledge. In fact, more often than not, I loathed and adored him all at once. I thought to myself that I could do better, that I deserved better, but now I question, not the fact that I deserve better (as that is set in stone), but whether or not he can be better. Is it just false hope? Or are we capable of changing significantly within the span of a few short years to merit second, third, and even fourth chances?

I like to think that there is hope, though I'm leery and scared and skeptical and not entirely convinced. Such is the fate of the hopeless (and subsequently, helpless) romantic. Follow through...

No more wine before bed

I had a glass of wine with a very late dinner, and I had the funkiest dreams last night. I woke up every 20 minutes or so and had the most unfitful rest ever. I dreamed that I was away some place for a guy friend's wedding, and then he told me he was in love with me and wanted to call off his wedding. I was like whatever, I work for the rescue squad, and went off to my job at the rescue squad station. Instead, I ended up at this carnival-type thing where there were a bunch of photo booths and roller coasters and lo and behold, my favorite ex was just sitting around on some couches chillin' with one of his friends, who mysteriously vanished during the course of my dream. I was wearing my glasses. (I never wear my glasses.) I remember I was wearing my glasses because when he leaned in to kiss me, they fogged up, and I pushed them back on my nose after he said, "Will you marry me?" We hadn't seen each other in years. He must've been thinking about it. I pretended I didn't hear him because he said it so softly, but then he repeated himself and I was forced to answer. I must have said yes because I soon started receiving text messages from all of my friends and agonizing over who to invite to my wedding and who my bridesmaids were gonna be and how I was gonna keep it small. Shortly thereafter, there was an announcement that one of my 23 year old lady friends was going to get married to her 21 year old beau, and I thought, "Gosh... they're so gonna get a divorce bc a 21 year old guy is going to wanna go out and go crazy bc he hasn't done it yet." And then I realized, "Whoah... I'm way too young to get married. Even if Mr. X is older than me." And then I woke up.

Dude, I don't even want to get married anytime soon. And it freaks me out that I dreamed I was gonna marry an old ex, who has been out of my life for a long time. Follow through...

Love like

I was going through some old entries and remembered a spoken word artist who goes by the name Shihan the Poet. This is one of the poems I really liked, but I've gotta tell you, it's so much more powerful when you hear it spoken by the artist himself. I want a Love Like the one he describes.

Love Like by Shihan

I want a love like me, thinking of you, thinking of me,
thinking of you type love
or, me telling my friends more than I've ever admitted to
myself about how I feel about you type love
or, hating how jealous you are, but loving how much you
want me all to your self type love,
or seeing how your first name just sounds so good next to my last name,
and s**t, I wanted to see how far I could get without
calling you, and I barely made it out of my garage.
See, I want a love that makes me wait until she falls
asleep then wonder if she dreaming about us being in love
type love,
or who loves the other more,
or what she's doing at this exact moment,
or slow dancing in the middle of our apartment to the music of our hearts, closing my eyes and imagining how a love so good could just hurt so much when she's not there.
S**t, I love not knowing where this love is headed type love.
And check this, I want to place those little post-it notes
all around the house so she never forgets how much I love her type love then not have enough ink in my pen to write
all there is to love about her type love.
Hope that I make her feel as good as she makes me feel, like believing that her being in my life makes me a better person type love or I want her to distract me form whatever I'm doing type love
and I want to deal with my friends making fun of me the
way I made fun of them when they went through the same kind of love type love.
Only difference is this is one of those real love type loves.
and just like in high school, I want to spend hours on the phone with her not saying anything,
then fall asleep then wake up with HER right next to me,
and smell her all up in my covers type love
I want to try to counting the ways I love her, and then
lose count in the middle just so that I have to start all
over again type love
I want to celebrate one of those month anniversaries even
though they ain't really anniversaries, but doin' it just
cause it makes her happy type love.
And I want to break down the time we spend together into seconds just so it sounds like we spend more time together type love
And check this, I want fall in love with the melody the
phone plays when her number is dialed into it type loves
and then talk to her until I lose my breathe, she leaves me breathless, but with the expanding of my lungs I inhale all of her back into me
I want a love that makes me need to change my cell phone calling plan to something that allows me to talk to her longer
because, in all honesty, I want to avoid one of them high cell phone bill type loves.
I want a love that makes me regret how small my hands are
I mean the lines on my palms don't give me enough time to love her as long as I'd like to type loves,
and I want a love that makes me st-st-st-st-stutter just thinking
about how strong this love is type love.
I want a love that makes me want to cut off all my hair
Well, maybe not all of the hair
maybe just cut the split ends and trim my mustache, but
it will still be a symbol of how strong my love is for her.
And check this, I kinda feel comfortable now, so I can tell y'all this I even be fantasizing about walking out on a green light just dying to get hit by a car just so I could lose my memory
get transported to some third world country just to get treated then somehow meet up again with you so that I could fall in love with you in a different language to see if it still feels the same
I want a love that's as unexplainable as she is, and I'm married, so she is going to be the one that I share this love with. Follow through...

Platonically challenged

Miranda: I don't have Steve. There is no having of the Steve. We're good friends.
Samantha: No, we're good friends, but I don't put my dick in you.

Men and women are platonically challenged. In any so-called platonic relationship in which one or both parties have even the slightest desire to hook up with eachother in the near or distant future, the stage is set for battle. Obviously, it's not socially acceptable to go and hook up with every single one of your friends. Friends are supposed to be platonic, meaning the love upon which that relationship is founded is not based on lust or carnal needs. That's not to say that lust and carnal needs never come into play in these friendships, I'm just clarifying for definition's sake. I believe that no relationship with a member of the opposite sex is innately platonic. I think we force ourselves to make or keep them that way out of fear. Fear of rejection, fear of pain, fear of humilation, or fear of ostracization by either the party involved or even by onlookers, who are more than likely friends to you both. Remove the actual possibility of any hookup from the relationship and voila! You've got platonic. But until then, it's not really platonic becasue you're holding on for the company, for the comfort, for the just in case.

But here's an important point: just because you find someone attractive does not mean you want to hook up with them, even if you've toyed with the idea. And while the removal of any possibility of ever hooking up is helpful (for instance, the guy is one of your best friends' exes or perhaps your coworker), it's not the only deterrent. Why? Because oftentimes our brains and consciences intercept desire and remold it until it becomes innocuous, relegated to a faint but unaffecting feeling of sexual tension that will never develop beyond that. Follow through...

Love yourself

It's tough, but necessary. Before being able to give fully to another person, you must love yourself.

Carrie: Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

I think too often, we seek some sort of completion of self in another person. Does that strike anyone else as oxymoronic? But we are, I believe, at our best when we are happy with who we are and where we are in life. That is when we have the most to offer to others. Our own happiness, though, should never be dependent on anyone or anything else. How you get to be happy, I couldn't tell you, but I do know you gotta love yourself first.

Sacrificing for relationships, by the way, is bullshit. Sacrifice, by definition, is giving without any intent of receiving. If all you ever do is sacrifice for love, you're in a fucked up relationship. The way I see it, everything in a relationship ought to be reciprocol. If you give, the other person better be giving something back, too. I'm not saying it's gotta be an eye for an eye kind of thing, just that in the larger scheme of the relationship, there should be some kind of balance. Otherwise, you're not respecting yourself and you're settling for less than you deserve. Don't bend over backwards for someone who does not want to bend at all. Understand, though, that the other person may not bend the same way that you do. If they are trying, great. The effort is what counts, first. As long as the will is there, the rest will follow. If you value yourself, you will find it easier and easier not to waste your time with relationships that are not worth it. This goes for romance and friendship alike. I guess what I'm trying to say is make sure you've got your own shit straight, that you are comfortable in your own skin, before you go off on some quest to save someone from himself. Don't try to be someone else's crutch if you're having trouble standing strong on your own. You are your own best friend, and your own worst enemy, and probably your harshest critic, too. Once you learn self-love, the love you have to give to others will be less flawed and more fulfilling. Follow through...

Easy words

Where is this love? I can't see it, I can't touch it. I can't feel it. I can hear it. I can hear some words, but I can't do anything with your easy words. Closer.

Is it really that easy to say, "I love you?" I mean, I understand that actions speak more loudly than words, but I don't think it's all that easy to utter those three words to someone. In my experience, it has been perhaps more difficult for me to say those words than it has been to live them. It isn't that I don't think I've ever been in love, (in fact, to the contrary, I think I've been in love many times) it's that I am paralyzed by fear. I have always been scared out of my wits at the possibility that the person to whom I would like to say "I love you" would not reciprocate, and one of my greatest fears in life, being unloved, would be confirmed.

Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age. Anais Nin.

I don't think love is some static, constant thing. I would define love as the complete giving of all that one has to offer at any particular point in one's life. For instance, when I was 17 I was convinced I had fallen in love with a boy I met at a church conference in Tennessee. Every fiber of my being trembled with longing for this boy; I couldn't stop thinking of him; I wanted only to make him happy. When I was 19, I looked back at that time in my life and laughed at myself. How silly I was. But now, I look back and I consider each time I was in love legitimate. Puppy love, shmuppy love. At that point in time, given my emotional maturity, I offered my purest and most precious gift of self. If I were to offer another man that now, it'd be a lot more meaningful because I've grown since then, and my capacity to love has expanded. I look forward to the day when I reach full capacity! Cheers to all the heartbreak, the growth, and the love in the many years to come. When I am 82 and in love, I hope I feel just as fulfilled as when I was 17 and in love, 19 and in love, and so on and so forth. Follow through...

Be my Valentine

Most of my girlfriends think I'm crazy, but I love Valentine's Day. It is my favorite holiday. Yes, even when I'm single. Why? I think it's because I like the idea of dedicating a day to the celebration of love and romance. I don't care if it's been adulterated by this absurd need to give expensive gifts (I mean, really, it's not like this is the only commericalized holiday we celebrate, puh-leeze). When February rolls around, inevitably, my thoughts wander to matchmaking, ex-boyfriends, and chocolate. For the past two years on Xanga, I prefaced each entry with love quotes. I think I'll mix it up a little this year. Some images, some quotes, some lyrics. I am also a self-proclaimed Valentine's Day consultant. Boys and girls: if you are having trouble thinking up things to do for your hunny, have no fear, Miss M is here! You know how in The Wedding Planner, JLo's character says "Those who can't wed, plan?" That's like me on V-day. Since I can't do anything for a non-existent boyfriend, I help plan out other people's V-days. And I send my single friends Valentine's day gifts because even those without boyfriends should know that someone loves them. (Side note: Most boys I know are amazingly devoid of creative juices when it comes to romance. I will write more on planning the perfect V-day in a later entry. Feel free to leave questions or comments if there are things you would like for me to address. Need ideas? Short on cash? What is your excuse for being a sucky and utterly uncreative bf? Or gf, for that matter?)

All too often, I think we forget that love is more than the burning desire in your loins when you see that special someone. There are so many different forms, and I don't see any reason why the other types of love are any less deserving of celebration. Familial love: how often do you tell your parents and siblings that you love them, and show it? Best friend love: whether your best friends are in relationships or not, they should be reminded that no matter what a silly man might think of them, they are wonderful and beautiful and loved. Heavenly love: I don't thank God enough for his unfailing love. The problem is, when you know you can count on something, you tend to abuse it, consciously or otherwise. Admit it. We're all guilty! Follow through...

Single

Warning: this entry does not flow well, and it is long and whiny. Read at your own risk.

I'm single again. You may have noticed that I've been updating every day for a few days now. It's a byproduct of having too much time on my hands all of a sudden, I suppose. I haven't mentioned that I was dating anyone, mostly because I like to keep my private life fairly private. I am picky about the people to whom I expose my vulnerabilities. There is very little that I deem too sacred for blogging. During the life of a relationship, it is sacred. After the relationship is dead, though, I am allowed to talk about it. So I am. It's over, and I was devastated, and I'm in that delicate post-breakup phase. I really wish I had some close girl friends in LA. *Sigh*

I am a very passionate person. I live for spontaneity and adrenaline rushes. In my relationships, I dislike holding back any of my feelings, even if it means I'm going to get hurt. The way I see it, if we lived in fear of getting hurt all the time, things would move at snail's pace and we'd miss out on all the other opportunities we might've had while we were draggin' things out with one person. Might as well milk it for what it's worth and get it over with.

That said, I am easily hurt, and often. But as my girls will attest, I have the resiliency of a bouncy ball, and it has been improving over time. It used to take me forever to get over someone (the special ones, I never truly get over), but in the past year, something has changed in me. I've learned to let go of hope, which can be a beautiful but dangerous thing. Hope* can keep you going, but it can also drown you in dark pools of delusion. Sometimes we need to give ourselves a nice, hard kick in the ass and say out loud, "He's just not that into me." The hard part is realizing that it's not your fault. So follow the previous statement with, "And he's a fool for it. I don't like fools, therefore he is not worthy of me." And go on with your bad self.

Confidence is the sexiest quality that anyone can possess. Note: I said confidence, and there is a fine line between confidence and cockiness. I think most women I know lack confidence. Even my most beautiful friends look in the mirror and wonder if they're pretty or not, and every woman I know has wondered, at some point, what she's done wrong in the relationship, why he doesn't reciprocate when she's done everything right. Well, if indeed she has done everything right, then it's not her, it's him. He's not right for you anyway, so there's no use in crying over spilt milk. Let's move on. Repeat after me: I deserve someone who appreciates me. You do, and if he doesn't, it's not your fault. Not necessarily his, either. Sometimes you just don't click. Maybe it's not the right time, maybe it's not the right guy. We don't need to blame anyone.

All of that aside, it's a lot easier said than done. I've been trying very hard not to blame myself and very hard not to blame him. And I've been trying to convince myself that I am fabulous, even though I feel completely, totally, and utterly unfabulous right now. If anything, I blame it on the move. I love LA, and I am glad I came out here, but I really really REALLY wish I had some close girl friends. I want shopping/ coffee/ martini buddies. I want to be able to talk about boys and making out. I want to go to a club in a big group and get in for free without waiting in line just because I'm with a bunch of cute girls. I miss all of that. My former roommates are great, but they've got their own lives and they're always busy, so I don't like to bug them too often to play with me.

At first he just said he needed some space. I knew better. I knew something deeper was going on, and that it would only be a matter of time before things completely fell apart. I started bawling. He was confused, bc all he has said was that he needed some space bc he was feeling smothered. I wasn't only bawling bc I knew I was going to lose him, but I was bawling bc I hated the fact that I had let myself suffocate him. I was blaming myself again. I had realized we were spending a lot of time together, but I was being selfish about it. I could have sought out new friends or met with ones who lived a little further away, but I was so comfortable walking one block to his house or hanging out with our mutual friends in the area so I was never motivated enough to go beyond a 3 mile radius of my own apartment. This, I'm sure you can guess, severely limited my social life, and I had really shot myself in the foot.

A brief aside: my apologies for the total lack of organization in this entry, but it's more a semi-stream of consciousness. I am a little discombobulated right now. Still not quite right in the head.

If I had some good girl friends, people I really wanted to hang out with, here in LA, I think that would've saved my relationship. But I became so dependent on him for all of my social needs that he never had any time to himself. Me? I hate being alone. Given the choice, I almost always opt to be in someone else's presence, though lately, that choice has not been mine. Dammit. I need friends! The guys from work are awesome, and i love hanging out with them, but I see them all the time at work and I don't want them to get sick of me, too.

I think I'm gonna go to Vegas this weekend. My favorite ex called and asked me to meet him there. If I were still with the bf, I would've said no without blinking an eye, but the ex called when I was newly broken up and terribly distraught and in need of a friend. I think it'll do me good to get away from here for a weekend, and he's someone who knows me very well. I'm quite fond of him, and it's not because I care to get back together with him at all. It's just so comfortable.

Wow. What a disjointed entry. Fact is, I'm still distraught and confused, trying to suck up the tears and put a smile on my face. This shit ain't easy, but I know I'll be okay. Why? Because I am fabulous, whether a man recognizes it or not. Follow through...

LDFs

Everyone has a long-distance flirt, or LDF. Long-distance flirting is definitely one of my favorite pasttimes. Why? Because it is safe. There is no obligation to deliver, no need to think up elaborate excuses to duck booty calls at 4 am, no worrying about what/ who he is doing. I mean, really, if you're separated by hundreds or even thousands of miles, chances are, a little flirting isn't gonna hurt anyone. At the very worst, unwanted long-distance advances can be stopped short simply by ignoring the phone call or clicking the X button on the IM screen. No harm, no foul. But when you're feeling down and out and your self esteem could use a little boost or two, your LDF is always there to put you up on your pedestal, right where you belong. He doesn't know how fat or ugly or unloved you feel, and he sure as heck can't see it if you're having a bad hair day or you've gained 10 pounds. (Unless you webcam, but that opens a whole 'nother can o' worms.) Inside his head, he has but an imperfect memory of you and how perfect you are, and you indulge him. The occasional drunk dial keeps things lively, and when you wake up in the morning, head pounding, you needn't fret about the things you said and didn't mean because it's not like you have to face him in person anytime soon. By then, your sins will be long-forgotten. Chances are, you only talk to him in spurts, anyway.

I've found that LDFs are most useful after you've just fought with or broken up with your within-proximity flame. It's not cheating, because you have no intention of having a real relationship with this guy anyway, but it sure does feel nice to have that cushion to fall back on. While you are lamenting love lost or prowling anew, your LDF can fill the affection deficit in your life. LDFs are usually (a) exes with whom you've had healthy love affairs that ended for reasons neither of you really remembers anymore, or (b) hookups with whom you experienced brief but steamy physical encounters that never progressed into anything more, or (c) guys/ guys friends who always had the hots for you but weren't able to admit it until you were separated.

Perhaps it is selfish and disgusting and pathetic and vile to use another person to make you feel better about yourself, but hey, as long as no one is getting hurt, why not? Like many things in life, it's so wrong, but it feels so right.

The golden rules of LDF-ing according to Professor M:

• The possibility/ feasibility of actually having a real relationship must be nil, and understood as such by both parties. If this is not the case, you are at risk of causing heartache or getting hurt.
  
• LDFing sessions must not occur continually for long periods of time because one party may forget rule number one and get the crazy idea to have a real, long-distance relationship. It is best to use your LDF sparingly, not only to avoid catchin' feelin's, but also to keep the (relative) novelty intact.
  
• When your LDF is dating someone seriously (and you are aware of it), you must not contact him until he contacts you. It's common courtesy not to fuck with his head (and his girlfriend's sense of security) when he's in a real, within-proximity relationship.
• When you and your LDF are within one another's proximity, be advised that hooking up could potentially ruin your non-commital and mutually beneficial ego-boosting.

Follow through...