Love and Hate

Can you hate one of the biggest cities in the world because of one person?

Is it ok to root against a team that's a powerhouse, just because someone who broke your heart was a fan?

How about switching the station when a song comes on because it reminds you of memories gone bad?

What harm is there in now disliking the smell, the feel, even the sight of a flower that you loved because those were the flowers he always gave you?

Can your heart break again and again each time you slip on the soft, supple robe he gave you --- so much that you'll never be able to wear it again?

OT in College Football

Overtime in college football is interesting. The format is a pretty ingenious way of doing things.... if the field manager plays the game right.

Here's how it works: Regulation tie game goes to overtime. Whoever wins the coin toss gets to choose if they want the ball on offense, or if they're going to run defense first. Thing is, each team gets a chance to score (ahem) ---- so you WANT to be the one with the last chance before the clock runs out.

IF the first overtime ends with a tie, however, then ball possession switches.... so the other team has the last chance with the ball.

In essence, the tables get turned for the second OT.

So. What happens when the relationship goes to overtime? Doesn't overtime usually mean panic? Yes, for the most part ---- but in football, it's also exciting.

In dating, overtimes aren't usually so exciting. They're times when we're trying too hard to make something work..... and we're not able to say who won, because it's not like we can put points on the board.

And it's hard when the tables are turned. Usually the reason we head to OT in a relationship is when you're dealing with an issue that one person has brought to the table. .....what's hard is when both people have to then deal with that issue and that's what can take them to overtime.....OT is usually hard, it wears down on everyone, it's physically and emotionally tough.

Especially when times are tough enough that you have to go to the second OT. The tables do turn when it comes to love. And by this point, the other person who was there to help get through the first overtime finds the tables turned at 2OT. And it can be hard to look at that other person and not see that original issue. It's tough to get past the reasons that took things to the double overtime.

You can't really ever start that game again, can you? You can only hope for a rematch.

The Game's Over, So Just Move On... right?

Ah, but there's always OT.

And sometimes, the penalty shot.

How come in pretty much every other aspect of my life am I always anxious for things to be over? At most games, I f-l-y out of them, rushing out to meet up with friends or even just head home. Soon as that buzzer rings and the clock counts to zero, there I go ... all packed up and ready for the post-game fun.

So why can't I do the same with a guy?

It's this stupid game of love. It's so much more complicated than the X's and O's played out on a field.

Love Happens. So does Lord Stanley.

It does happen. I love love --- and I believe in it. But I sometimes forget that it's attainable for me. It's like the Stanley Cup. That shiny chalice represents so much more than just the final score ... it's the teamwork, the dedication, the long, hard road it was to get there .... blood (well... maybe not), sweat and tears are required to win that thing. But when you do, it's all worth it.

Love's the same way. It happens. It does.

Just like those names forever etched into that cup, each love will always be in your heart. Even if you don't win the Cup every year.

The Kiwi

It's probably too early to write about him. Tonight marks only two weeks since we met. Why, then, does it seem like I've known him for a year. Because it's been so perfect. We connected instantly --- which was odd, considering neither of us ever thought a casual walk by the lake with our dogs would be much more than just that. That night turned into every night. And every night was perfect.... enjoying evenings on the back patio, talking and dreaming and planning and being amazed at how well things were going. We kept saying that it had to slow down, that we were going to burn ourselves out ... but we couldn't even manage one night apart. We agreed, there aren't any rules when it comes to this type of connection. 14 blissful nights and days ---- all because his first kiss made me dizzy. He's from New Zealand and has that accent that makes my heart melt, plus he's a baldie ... and I love that too. Our happy little fortnight of a relationship was so deep, so fast. And the closer we got to each other, the more we each panicked. Until we both panicked enough and had to make it stop. It couldn't be this good. Something must be wrong. We're gonna have to slow down. I was in shock that night. How could I be in such shock after such a short time? He needs space. We're both afraid to let the other have space ... but we both know it's a must if we're going to make it forever. Time is good, he says. I hope it is. Plans to see each other in three weeks. We're going to play golf.

I hope he's worth the wait. (he is)

I hope he'll see that I'm worth the wait too. (i think he will)

The Doctor Looks at Percentages

He says I'm 100 percent.

And he says she's 75 percent, maybe 80.

He wants the 100 percent.

But wonders, does 100 percent really exist?

Can your head see the 100 percent and your heart not? Is it still ok to follow your heart? Even if the percentages are bad? In baseball, .800 batting average helps put a lot of Ws in the win column. Because someone who hits an .800 is gonna be a star. No one's ever gonna bat a thousand.

Sigh. He is a baseball guy after all. In his eyes, he's going to go with 80.

No matter how much he dreams about me or how much he loves our kisses.

But I did make him boeuf bourguignon...

....and he'd loved it.

I remember it being a meal he'd still think of years later. How amazing it was, he'd say. He'd have that dreamy look in his eyes as he recalled it ---- kind of like when he'd remember other certain times we'd shared.

I'd also perfected the chocolate chip cookies he'd liked so much. Tried dozens of recipes, called in a friend for help, even bought a variety of new baking sheets just to make sure I'd gotten them just the way he liked them. He thought they were so good that he'd linger in the kitchen til they were ready and snatch them off the baking rack before they were cool. He'd savor them in finger-licking style and tell me I made the best chocolate chip cookies ever. And then, of course, every single time he'd devour the whole plate of cookies and would be forced to admit he'd eaten too many and his tummy hurt. When I'd chide him for eating so many, he'd say they were just soooo good.

But.......even the best cookies didn't keep him around. I thought the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.

Guess somehow I just didn't follow the recipe as I closely as I should've...

(but the apple pie is still a winner. with or without cinnamon.)

The Doctor.

Oh, the ironies of this little story still astound me. I'll share just the major ones, because there are too many to list. First, it was pretty much love at first sight. Second, I met him the same way I met The Unexpected. Third, we ended up spontaneously vacationing in the exact same spot where I'd vacationed with The Unexpected. And finally, they both had the same first name. The only good thing about all those ridiculous similarities was that somehow it helped protect me against a lot of the hurt I think I could've had with The Doctor. I needed some protection, because he was about to hurt me. I never saw it coming --- and I definitely never saw him coming. I'd just come off a huge trip for a client --- the trip itself was a blast and I spent days enjoying the southern California coast, but I was exhausted from the planning of a huge event. The weekend after the trip, I found myself at a minor league hockey game, totally not dressed up and in fact wearing the same jeans I'd gotten wet walking along the Pacific earlier in the week. Nope, they weren't washed, my hair was pulled back, loafers were on my feet, and I was sporting the zip-up sweatshirt I'd picked up in La Jolla. Figured I was going to enjoy a low-key night with Mums at the ice rink. Didn't figure I'd sit rightnext to a handsome doctor with the deepest blue eyes I'd ever seen. Once we started talking, I don't think we ever stopped. It was almost too good to be true. And, looking back, it was too good to be true. Oh, sure, we hit it off in a way that would rival a scripted romantic comedy. Three weeks later, we were on a beach on the coast of Florida, our feet tucked in the sand as we learned every little detail about each other. We realized how much we wanted the same things in life. Someone dared to say the words "meant to be" somewhere in the conversation. Even that night as we crawled into bed and behaved ourselves so well, I think we both counted on a future together. I was shocked at the turn of events. Once again, love had unexpectedly found me. ....And then it was gone. As unexpectedly as it began. Oh, we were still as infatuated with each other as ever, but his heart was still with someone else. And to be honest, mine still was too. My new Unexpected couldn't quite replace the old Unexpected. He and I tried to replace old feelings with new, but sometimes, you just can't. I think we'd still be trying if I hadn't decided to just stop. I felt like we were setting ourselves up for prolonged hurt if we didn't just accept that our timing was bad. Maybe it was telling us that even as perfect as we seemed for each other, it just wan't meant to be. I was ...ok, am... still pretty upset about finding and losing him. I kinda thought he was finally it. But I guess my journey is far from over. There are many things I'll remember about The Doctor, but the thing I'll cherish about what we had was that it proved to me that I could fall for someone else so completely, so deeply, and so instantly. It's given me a renewed hope in this Game of Love.

And so I let go.

It'd been an interesting ten or twelve years. I've always said that I fall for really great guys. And it's true. Just somehow, the just don't work out. The easiest was to just say it was them, that they were the ones who bailed and left me. But often, and definitely recently, I've begun to think that it's me. I wonder if I'm flawed ... if my heart is not healed enough to move on, or if my odd sense of commitment and strong desire to be my own person keeps a little protective wall around me. Perhaps they sense that somehow, maybe my innate self knows that I'll not let down my guard long enough to fall in love again. Sometimes, I worry that I'll not be able to stay faithful to someone for a lifetime. I worry they won't be faithful to me and will one day, out of the blue, walk in and break my heart. It seems so much easier to just not get so invested any more. Having things end with The Attorney and The Unexpected hurt me to my core and I'll carry those raw feelings with me for a lifetime because of how deeply I loved them; but the endings that I had with The Italian and The Friend actually stung my sensibilities. Their hurt, while not nearly as deep, made me see that I'm just not willing to get hurt again. I know I can't control that, and the risk will be worthy of a great reward, but I don't know that I want or can love again the way I loved those two. So I've decided to just let go of those in the past ... that's where they have to reside in my heart now...the past. I've always been a dater ... a serial one at that. But now, I'm not going to try, I'm just going to let love find me like it found me before in such an Unexpected way.

The Friend

He came second. After The Attorney and before The Unexpected. I knew him before I think I knew what love was. But he fits better into the story here. We met when I was still searching for what I thought was love. I'd been so hurt, my heart and my silly little spirit so demolished by The Attorney, that I'd convinced myself that I had to find someone exactly like him to make me happy. And this Friend, well, he was nothing like that. So no wonder I didn't see how wonderful he was. He was sweet and gentle and kind and from the minute he met me, he loved me. I loved him too ---- but not in the way I should've. I've always thought about him and held him so dear to my heart, but have always given the breezy excuses of "I'm not the girl you're looking for," or something similar. Twelve years have gone by and we're only getting closer as friends. We're pretty much total opposites. For so long, I didn't even picture him as someone I would ever be interested in. We don't like most of the same things and we don't even really know if we're all that compatible. But I can't begin to tell you how hard it hit me recently that I should've fallen in love with him all those years ago. It nearly overwhelmed me. I realize it happened with I found out that The Unexpected had moved on to someone else, but it was a deep sense that I missed out on someone special in my life. I realized that now, so many years later. He is someone who is entirely the type of person I want to spend my life with, the person I want to be the father of my children, and the person I know who will accept me for me ... and I've missed out on him. We keep saying our timing is terrible. He keeps reminding me that he tried many times to convince me we were perfect for each other. He tells me how much he's loved me for so long. I tell him how much I regret not seeing that before. That's why he fits here in this place within the story. He's with someone else now ... and he's such a sweet person that he'll never hurt her ---even for me. That's the type of person I want in life ... and I missed out. I see that now.

The Italian

Oh, he was definitely my exception. Almost too good to be true (I told him that the first time we exchanged emails), I found the Handsome Italian during my online dating adventure. He was the 1 in 24 that intrigued me enough that I didn't follow my usual habit of jotting down a few notes before the date. In fact, I never wrote about him. How could I when I fell so head over heels so fast? He's who I've always wanted to meet: handsome, European (Italian and French!), driven, smart, worldly, compassionate, athletic, devoted to family, loves to cook and travel, liberal ... really, the list goes on. Definitely, a Renaissance Man. (seriously, a dream guy for me) But sitting here in the middle of the USA, there's no way I would've had we each not turned to online dating. He was in the States as part of his military work as a fighter pilot in the Italian Air Force (see, he just gets better) and was stationed in a very small town in the sticks. Not exactly a spot where a Handsome Italian was going to meet a girl during his three-year stay. Hence the reason he decided to give online dating a try --- on our perfect first date, a quintessential late-winter Sunday morning brunch, he fessed up to the fact that he was actually just looking for friends. And the way he shrugged so many things off, I knew he was also open to something more. Things moved both slow and fast for us ... sometimes it'd be weeks in between the times we'd see each other, but it felt like I was often making the trip to that little town for very romantic, very European-style weekends together, filled with friends, music, and, of course, food. We connected well. We'd spend afternoons playing Scrabble, drinking wine, listening to French composers from the 19th Century, sitting in the hot tub, and stealing away to the bedroom. That was the life I'd always wanted and somehow, someway I'd managed to find it. I loved listening to him speak French with his sister and Italian with his mother and friends. My heart and my spirit fit into his life. I walked around in this dreamy cloud for pretty much the next year. He was busy getting his Masters and working (I mean, flying jets and all!) and I'd just taken a new job, but we always had really enjoyable visits together. We talked about our families, shared our secrets and funny stories, and talked about the world and tried to figure out how we fit into it. He had lots of dreams of places far away and he told me of them the first weekend we spent together. I wanted to go with him --- somewhere, anywhere --- but the war-torn places and third-worlds he was headed to weren't my idea of "let's move back to Italy and raise a family in a vineyard." So, we simply enjoyed the year ... I loved how he'd cook for me and make me Italian coffee in the morning, I loved the way he'd remark about my attire, and more than anything I loved how he'd look at me across a room at a party or lean his head down on my shoulder when he was tired at the end of the night. He challenged me and I loved to make him laugh. We fit together in this little parallel universe we shared, so separate from our individual lives. Our blissful little romance continued even through his move to the northeast ... idyllic weekends continued there when I'd visit and we'd wander off into the fall foliage in search of little hidden bed and breakfasts and cozy coffee spots. We'd talk about how we could be happy in a place like that, teaching at the university, riding bikes in the town square, and raising a family. But we both knew that our spirits longed for more than that, his much more so than mine. We soon realized that our little love affair had to end. I was becoming much too attached and hopeful for a future and it was obvious I wasn't the girl to accompany him through his life's adventures. With him, perhaps more than anyone else, I saw what I wanted my life to be. I loved him and all his demanding little quirks and strong, impassioned beliefs. I was in love with the way I know he will take care of a wife and a family. I found myself hanging on to a lot of loss and sadness when things ended with us. I'd like to find him again somewhere down the road .... but if I don't, I'm so delighted I was a part of his journey.

24 Dates in 19 Days

So I ventured into online dating. I decided to put myself through a crazy three-week crash course (24 Dates in 19 Days) in Internet dating for a story I wanted to write: Every Guy Has a Tell. I kept an entertaining little journal summarzing the highs and lows of that many dates in such a short amount of time. Ultimately, I'd wanted to turn the experience into a series of columns, writing about each date and each guy ---- I was determined to prove that, like in poker, every guy has a "tell" on that crucial first date. And they do. We all do. Once you figure out that tell, it'll be obvious how the relationship will go and how it will also end. And it will all revolve around that simple little, often undetected, tell. If I was asked out on a second date, I'd fess up to what I was doing. Some of the guys had negative responses, but more were intrigued and would ask if they were going to be included in the story. And boy, did I get some good stories out of the experience. I'll admit, it was tough to keep up with who was who ... and my secret little trick was to put helper words in when I saved their names in my mobile. Example: if Dave was from Chicago, then it was "Chicago Dave," or, if Chris like to wakeboard, then it was "Wakeboard Chris." It was helpful, but I still managed to get plenty of stories mixed up after too much wine. Somehow I'd play it off well enough. My little dating diary recorded unimportant things such as: what he drove, did for a living, age, if I was looking forward to the date, the funny thing that happened on the first date, if I kissed him, and of course, if there was going to be a second date. I met some great guys and definitely became a propenent of online dating. I don't see myself trying it again ---- I seem to meet some pretty great guys on my own ... but I'll definitely recommend it to friends. Nonetheless, I had a good time, got some great stories out of the adventure, kept my friends well entertained through frequent "date update" emails and even made a couple friends. Oh, there were plenty of second dates, but most all of the guys were not someone I'd want to date long-term. That is, except one. Yes, there's always the exception to the rule. And wow, was he ever an exception.

The Player

Oh, he's been in and out of the story for awhile. Of course he has. How could he not be? We had fun together, loved traveling together, stealing away little places here and there ---- my arrivals were always our little secrets. A couple days spent together in random destinations were enough to rejeuvenate ourselves and then off we went, back to our separate lives. Mostly physical, of course, but a deep connection has kept us close over all these years. We don't ask each other many questions about the day-to-day things, but we know everything about each other. And oh, how we love each other's company. We're like each other's pets ... holding on to each other with a quiet comfort, taking from each other the confidence and the courage to head back out to our own everyday. Maybe it's nice that no one really knows about us ---- just us. It's an easy relationship that's probably more of a friendship. I think we both want to always have each other in our lives, sharing in the triumphs and the lows, but we both know that's probably not going to happen and we couldn't explain it if we did. So, as always, we'll take what we have for the moment and hope each time that it's not the last we'll see of each other.

The Carpenter

I don't think I ever fell in love with him. I know I didn't ---- I've only loved two so far. But he was a good reminder to me that he's the type I want. I loved the things he created with his hands: they were sleek and solid and lean and strong, just like him. He himself was a little bit flawed, but wonderfully genuine and kind, a good friend and devoted to his family. We met in a silly way and I remember being nervous on our first couple dates --- until he kissed me on that stormy night out on the Zen-like patio he'd just created with his hands and quiet sensibilities. I liked that he remarked that it was our first kiss. I let him into my thoughts and he saw me as who I am deep down ---- it's so rare I let anyone that close. We cared deeply for each other. I saw him as a good husband and an even better father. I could envision an offbeat life together in a very real way. We accepted the way we were with each other, our differences ... and seemed the enjoy the similarities we shared. Yet, I wasn't ready when he called me his girlfriend to his friends and for some reason I played the game, even though there was absolutely no reason to play the game with him. Artistic, creative, quiet, determined and ...calm. He had this calmness about him that helped me learn how to calm down myself. If I'd come in stressed and unnerved, he'd kinda laugh at me and tell me not to let it bother me. And I just wouldn't. He'd have me lay there next to him as he read and soon I'd pick up a book too ... and we'd just be quiet and calm together. It was very peaceful and very good for the soul. I let the reactions of my friends who didn't like him affect the way I looked at him. They say now that I was in my artsy phase with him. But I wasn't in a phase --- that's me. And I'm mad at myself that I let him go so easily. There I was, back to chasing The Unexpected. We've since apologized and I think that we'll always be friends. I'm happy for that. I don't think we'll ever go back to anything else, but I know I want to end up with someone very similar to him.

The Owner

Coincidence helped us find each other. Both of us, stuck in a trendy bar we'd never individually choose, but there because of friends, in a city far from home. We'd each found a space at the bar and as soon as we made eye contact the connection was instant. In that little corner of the world, away from our daily lives, we were perfect for each other. He was strong and silent, powerful and compassionate. We'd often float the word soulmate into our conversations. Getting to know each other was a blast --- not sure I've ever been as silly with someone as I was with him; I can promise he's never that silly. His fairytale offer was so incredible that I didn't take it... I think I was afraid of what might've happened. By saying no to him, I thought I was protecting what I had with the one I thought I loved. I wished I'd realized it could've been the best thing that ever happened to me. We knew I'd fit into his life perfectly, that'd we'd become as picture-perfect as you could get. But we were both afraid to take the leap. Our connection was incredibly strong, but not strong enough that I'd say goodbye to someone else or he would take the leap and ask me to. Instead, we just let it slip away. I think the coincidence scared me away ... after all, he knew him ... and it was just all too surreal, they'd had meetings together. Our world was just too small. We both knew I fit into his part of the world better than the one I was in, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't say goodbye in hopes of a fairytale ending.

The Unexpected

I never saw him coming --- not until I caught sight of him in the hallway at the arena. Wasn't ready for him and I definitely wasn't ready to fall in love. But there he was, in such an unexpected way, and I fell hard for him. It's taken me nine years and a broken heart to realize that I really wasn't ready to fall in love at that time in my life. We talked marriage almost immediately ...a beach wedding, kids, family, travel, a house and the white picket fence... we had it all planned out and I went right along with it. I promised him forever and knew he'd never leave me. Somewhere deep inside me, I knew I should've slowed things down, that I wasn't fully into 'us' even though I loved him --- or thought I loved him. I don't think I ever knew how deep I loved him ... until I didn't have him. I let him spoil me, teach me, suprise me, dream about me, and love me and I don't think I ever stopped long enough to see if our love matched our wants in life. I loved wearing the jewelry he'd choose just for me, like it was a symbol that I was his. I relished in his wonderful romantic gestures ... the flowers, the sandy declarations of love, the hand-written love notes. He was such a major part of my life for so long that I think we both allowed ourselves to fall out of love with each other without even realizing it. I'd beg him to love me in a way he couldn't, he'd want me to love him in a way I just couldn't. But we never gave up. We loved each other too much. We didn't stick with our original plans --- we just stuck together --- and I think that was our undoing. We drove what we had into the ground, just assuming it would all work out. When he moved away, neither of us ever thought it would change anything --- how could it, we were so strong together and had been for so long. That was the reason we decided I didn't need to go with him right away. We could make it work, of course we could. His move took our relationship ... our love ... on a journey that it never returned from. Oh, we tried for so long to keep it. Not following him is one of my biggest regrets in life. How could two people love each other so much and let it just slip away? I hope the love we had was as real as it felt. He was always My Sweet Man. I hate that he's now become My Unexpected Regret.

The Dancer

Ah, he picked me out of a crowd at a party, twirled me around the dance floor, swept me off my feet ... even if that was just upstairs. He wasn't a real dancer, he just knew how to move on the dance floor like every girl hopes for, especially when you're a girl who grew up watching Patrick Swayze and Dirty Dancing. Sweet as can be with those adorable blue eyes ... but despite his gentle manners, soft touch, and sweet nature, he's quite the ladies man and no one, especially someone so much younger, was going to tame him. Every now and then, he'd dance back into my life and shake things up on the dance floor and off, but at least I'd learned to not trust guys like that. If anything, this guy showed me that there were outher guys out there beyond The Attorney and I'd needed to finally see that. I still have a little crush on him. And I do know that I'll always want to be with a guy who truly knows his way around a dance floor ---- because if a guy can lead, a girl can always dance.

The Attorney

He honestly had me at hello. It was that smile. The odd little connection of our shared hometown kept us chatting. He was the first guy I fell in love with ---- and a whole lot of other firsts too ---- and I still think I look to find a guy just like him. Instantly I thought he was "it" for me, despite my young age. He is a guy in every sense of the word ... and knew how to make a girl melt. (Took me awhile to realize I wasn't the only girl he could make melt.) He could spin any conversation, opinion, thought and even the basic "I love you" into a debate, but he'd still convince me that even though he was right, that I'd won the argument. I loved the way he teased me, needed to be near me and touch me, made me feel like the most special girl in the world, and called me silly little nicknames. And even as much as he frustrated me (oh, and did he ever --- still does, years and years later) and kept me on my toes --- it was the way he smiled and looked straight into my eyes always that made me trust him ... even though that was the last thing I should've ever done. Ours was a whirlwind romance (or something) that somehow turned into 12 years later. Every now and then he'd absolutely shock me when he'd let me know how much he cared for me. I needed to hear that from him, perhaps more than I've ever needed that from anyone in life. For some reason, I've always trusted his feelings. I've always trusted him. And here I am, still willing to trust him. But I should know better ---- if he comes back enough for me to trust him, it means he'll have to break his trust with someone else.

an odd coincidence ... or fate?

i think i stumbled over myself, at the irony of it all. i kinda lost myself in the dreamy world of what seemed like destiny.

he had the same name as the one i'd loved so much. we met each other in the same way i'd met the other one and the sparks were the oh-so much the same. soon, i found myself with the new him in the same place, figuratively and literally, when i fell in love with the other him. it was all so surreal that i convinced myself that it was meant to be ... like i'd been given this second chance to fall in love in all the same places with a new guy and get that 'do over' in life that we all hope for. my fairytale want took shape looking out across the same blue water. my heart finally said goodbye to the other him as my dreams of forever with the new him danced across that same sea ...

it took a long time for me to see that it wasn't a fairytale, it wasn't destiny ... just a silly bit of coincidence that tossed my head and my heart into a jumbled mess of confusion.

it was hard to convince myself that fate wasn't going to win out, that the new him and me were just not meant to be.

the best part, i suppose, was that i realized how i could love again like that --- so deep, so true, so heartfelt. that a love would find me and in an instant i would know. i'm thankful for seeing that, just wish he'd been in a place to return it.

too bad that i didn't know in an instant that we weren't going to be each other's forever. but now that i have, i'm just going to let him go. it's easier this way. have to say, i'll miss the what we 'could have had together' more than what we actually had together. how we met, so randomly and so unexpectedly --- and filled with such irony, will always stick with me. but really, that's all we had. those first few moments. i think we both hoped for more, but since it's just not 'there' for us, there just doesn't seem any reason to hurt ourselves any longer. it's time to say goodbye --- or not even worry about muttering those words, since all we'll do is try to hang on. fate touched us, but soon passed us by.

maybe, just maybe ... it took the new him to get over the other him.

a love rush

isn't it funny how we're all so protective of our hearts, our thoughts, our feelings? so much so that we keep ourselves from falling in love. are the days of head-over-heels gone? so many books, so many shows, so many people tell us to not put ourselves out there too much. to guard ourselves from getting hurt.

but why?

isn't that part of the risk?

because, after all, the reward is so great. right? of course it is.

and while the hurt can be so deep ... isn't it better to have loved once than to never have loved at all?

i hope so.

(lost) love does hurt, especially on that first date

no matter what the reason for the break up, or how bad you were to him, or how much he hurt you, or how much you realize he wasn't (and still isn't) 'the one,' losing a love is rough. especially when he moves on.

i suppose it's fitting that i'm writing about this on a blog called the first date, because ours was wonderful. just perfect.

i still remember choosing my outfit, shopping for something new, the butterflies beforehand, the sweet glances during dinner, wishing he'd kiss me when he opened the car door for me, being happy to be tucked against him at the bar, and leaning in for a second when his first kiss was so good.

love came quickly for us, and six weeks into it our feet were tucked side by side in the sand, our hands intertwined as we dreamed of the wedding. it would be bliss forever. soon those six weeks were six years and even though we still loved each other like that night i wrapped myself in his blue button-down, it was over. he was so faraway, in oh-so many ways. i couldn't find a way to bring him back. he couldn't find his way back. we tried, oh we tried. we both knew it was futile to keep trying, just never admitted it. we tried for two more years to overcome the distance, the pain, the new lives and new distractions. yes, we tried. and in so many ways, our love and trust still remained somehow. somewhere, it's still there, just tucked deep away ---- like those champagne corks, and the ticket stubs, the sparkly gifts, and those heartwrenching love notes.

we'd always said we'd love each other forever. we believed each other. we'd believed in us. can't we go back to then? that beach is still there. why aren't we?

but then, it was over. gone in an instant, faded into a memory neither of knew how to recapture. and now he's moved on, finding bliss with someone else. i've wondered if their daydreams were the same. did he ask for her hand the way he'd wanted to ask for mine? will i cross his mind on that day? wasn't that supposed to be me with him there? i'll struggle to get through that day.

but love, it's such a tricky thing. isn't it better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all? i suppose. would i trade our sandy memories if it meant not having this hurt today? perhaps. the hurt right now is great.

i guess it's the memories of him that stay with me as i try to move on. it's always hardest to let go of our memories, our special moments, us --- especially when i find myself on yet another first date. i might never have one so special as the one he gave me.

12 years later

...and it's all still there. The feelings, the thoughts, the aggravations, and for some reason, the love. It's irrational and ridiculous and will soon be spiraling out of control. I know that, yet here I am, right back where it all began.

He hasn't changed in the least.

And I *obviously* haven't learned anything.