If I Lay My Heart on the Table

Sometimes I wonder if I get in-depth enough here when I write. More often than not, I present to you my stories, full of analogies and zany emotional grievances.

But beneath my ribs of steel lies a heart, ready to burst at any given moment; a heart that murmurs nervously more than it beats steadily.

Too often I can't find a happy medium: should I allow myself to give into everything that turns those murmurs into heavy beats, or should I keep it in a cage where it's safe from anything that could touch it?

These are the questions that weigh on my mind. Because how do we know that we are ready to dive in and let go of the things we fear about love and the like? I can preach all day about having fun and not taking things too seriously, but maybe that is really my problem.

I haven't taken myself seriously. My friends can attest to this. I haven't totally considered how the actions of those I allow to walk by my side affect how I love.

But what if I did put my heart out on the table? What would someone say? Someone may examine and see the scar tissue of loves lost and not totally healed. Another might see the stitches I've haphazardly sewn myself because I was too stubborn to let anyone else touch the injured part of me. One person would definitely see the burns which became dark spots, the slowest to recover.

There is a lot going on in my heart, and I assure you not all of it is negative. The parts of my heart that have been hurt the most are the ones I've tried to heal by myself. And the parts of it that are still full of life, are what I want to keep the safest. Those parts are innocent and should not be punished for having good intentions. But experience tells you that exposing your heart means letting people treat it like a specimen...to let it be examined and discarded when it's no longer of use.

Falling in love is scarier to me than jumping out of a perfectly fine aircraft. I walk by myself at midnight and have little fear about what will happen to me. But to expose the ugly, dark side of myself? That's horrifying. There's a struggle when you understand that you can see the bright side of everything. However bright it may be, the light can blind you from seeing what's underneath. That's what happened with CSB when he told me we never were. That's what happened when I decided to continue seeing OGM even though I knew he would move.

I can be selfish and flakey. Rude and obnoxious. Inconsiderate and foolish. Needy and angry. Who wants to see that? I don't like wearing my heart on my sleeve. People who do annoy me. They can't bend and adjust to obstacles. As for me? I try to take the most logical approach to love.

What?

The logical way. Tactical. Having a Plan B in case Plan A doesn't work. To consider all the horrible things that could happen, and creating a mental survival plan because experience taught me that I will get hurt, and I will need to learn to stitch the wounds. Bandages unravel, so I must learn to cauterize.



(Source: zenpencils.com)

Every time I feel my heart try to rattle its cage, I think about the next best way to repair it. Because I know I will let it happen. Believe me, I know it's not the best way to live. And then there's this school of thought: fall in love because it happens naturally, not because the opportunity appears to present itself. Fall in love with the person, not with the act itself.

These thoughts wake me at night. Hell, they prevent me from sleep at night. The difficult part is to dismiss that I am the common denominator in why my relationships crash and burn. The end result is always the same: I learn and move on. Sometimes the end isn't so horrible. Other times, it's devastating.

I'm prattling on because what it comes down to is the biggest question: how much should I hold back from falling for someone? One of the mothers I adopted sympathized with me one time. She told me she falls fast, hard, and at one point very often. I tend to do the same. In an effort to protect what's left of my heart, I hold back. I put on this front that I can move on. It's not me, cupcake...it's you. My time is valuable and I don't want to waste it falling in love only to hit the ground hard. I've done it enough. I don't know how much more my heart can handle. I don't know how many other hands I can trust to touch it.

My burlesque mama is of a different school of thought: enjoy it, but never settle. If I enjoy it, that's how I get blinded by the deceptive rays of something good. It's this game I tend to lose very often.

And then there's TD.

• The way he kissed my shoulder the first time while he was capturing video of my dog acting like a fool for her toy.
• The way he melted into my back while we watched TV
• The way he leaned over, closer to hold my hand while we lay on the couch
• The way he traced my back with his hands and I felt a surge charge all the way from my toes and up to my lips where I met his

And then...

• The way I melt into his arms when he reaches for a hug
• The way I found the perfect nook on his shoulder to lay so I felt safe in his arms
• The way I look forward to hearing him tell me sweet dreams every night
• The way I smile when he asks me to let him know I walked safely into my home and my doors are locked
• The way I felt when he smiled at my excitable reaction to the end of my favorite show

It has been one week of this. Not to say that anyone should put a time stamp to matters of the heart, but when your heart is healing, it knows what it needs for nourishment. I wasn't expecting it this soon, and especially not from him.

Again it's just the way he is so open with me. By showing me he can be comfortable giving the caring part of himself to me this soon, it's like he's giving myself permission to do the same. I guess that's how it's supposed to be...

With bated breath and one eye open, I find the key to the cage. The hesitation is still there, but my hand is holding the key, resting in the lock, almost ready to release it into someone else's hands where I can trust that they will help me heal it so I don't have to do it on my own for awhile...

Boyfriend Application

It wasn't most ideal, but The Trainer texted that he is moving for sure, and didn't want to get into something knowing one of us (or both of us) would get hurt. However, I respect a man who lets me know right away. He did let me know that he felt bad about how impersonal it was, but the sooner we figure it out, the better.

He's right. And no...we both don't like it. In fact, we are still talking casually. Not much harm done.

But I was Bad Decision Kitty and decided it was worth it to check if anything was different on my profile. I may have given another guy my number. Chatted with a few other men. No matter. I'm Jax Single Girl. I have adventures. Sometimes my adventures lead to poor decisions. I'm not trying to go that way, but it's like they say: plenty of fish in the sea...just through out the line. Right?

Anyhow, I remember a post I submitted awhile ago about Matthew Grey Gublar's "Girlfriend Application." You may know him very well from Criminal Minds as Dr. Spencer Reid. Or as Joseph Gordon Levitt's friend in 500 Days of Summer, the angsty hipster love story of this generation. His character in the movie said "She's better than the girl of my dreams...she's real."

Why do I have such a hard time finding someone who believes that and will stay? The men I encounter either don't and lead me on, or the do and they leave. The cynic in me thinks I'm what's wrong: the common denominator. But I don't want to be the cynic. I want to be the ardent believer that love can happen to anyone. If it can happen to Honey Boo Boo's mom, it could happen to me.

So here it is. This is my boyfriend application. I am accepting them right now so feel free to pay it forward.

(Source: Sedonafilmschool.com)

Wanted: A companion

Must love dogs. Other four legged animals are acceptable. No spiders please.

Body type is negotiable, but please be presentable with caring eyes and open arms

Laughter must be part of your genetic make-up, but not always at my expense

Hugs are important. I appreciate when they come from a genuine place

Friendship is a must. Put the friend in boyfriend and we're off to a great start

While I prefer tea, I am willing to drink coffee as long as we can have great conversations

Though I am an eternal optimist, I have my bad days. Cheer me on, but challenge my neurosis

I like holding hands. Please hold them as if to protect me from scary monsters under the bed

Don't be offended by beer burps. I take pride in my own brand

Piercings and tattoos are not taboo. You are a canvas as I am as well.

Pessimists, Debbie Downers, and the lazy need not apply

If you can come up with more creative shapes for clouds, you have already won me over

Kindness is a must. There is always someone who has it worse than you or me

Please have some sense of culture. I like to talk about books, music, and movies. Yes, The Hangover counts as culture

Halloween is my favorite holiday. Let's dress up and eat all the candy

What I mean to say is cuddle me, remember tacos are better than burritos, and bring out the best in me as I will for you

I look forward to the response.

Reality

In my utter moments of optimism with The Trainer, I have failed to mention one thing:

Much like OGM, he is a nomad. His job is contractual, forcing him to move around the country.

He has a meeting tomorrow discuss his time here.

While I am an eternal optimist, he has the sunny outlook of an Eeyore. Even when we talk I have to remind him of ways it could constantly be worse. I told him not to worry because why worry about what you don't know.

Sound advice I rarely take myself.

Being the usual sunny me, I forced the "I hope it goes well" line. Translation: I hope you stay. I was forward enough to ask "if you had your way, what would happen?"

I would change a few things, but I want to stay here. I've had one year contracts and have never wanted to stay with them.

...Promising. And vague. The smitten kitten in me hopes that I'm part of why he would like to stay in one place longer than a year.

I'm melting. I don't know if I should be happy or devastated. I never want to get in the way of upward mobility...but I am ready to settle.

I said it: I am ready to settle.

I'm not willing to give up the strongest parts of me. I'm not ready to put my feet up in stirrups and pop out ankle biters. That's not what I mean by settle. I mean...I'm ready to find the following:

- A hand willing to fit perfectly into my own
- A challenger who cheers me on in my hardest days
- A tender set of moments where I know that he's with me too
- The reassurance that we are in it together

There's a time in a single girl's life where she's done clicking dating profiles, chatting up/avoiding strangers in bars, waiting to see if her married friends have unmarried guy friends. I never said I wanted something immediate.

I think the word I'm looking for is stability. I have enough chaos in my life; other than my dog, who's going to take a moment to enjoy this chaos with me?

We still (supposedly) have a date on Friday. I can hear it in the voices of my friends. I know they don't want me to get hurt. They avoid this conversation with me because they know I've gone through enough trouble with guys and they're bracing for impact.

But...what is love (and the like) without the risk?

We spend so much time wasting away, worrying about where we'll be, who'll be there, and if it is all just and right. As for myself, I've spent too much time not worrying and giving all I have and getting little to nothing in return. It's such a fine line to walk.

Is it wrong to close my eyes, inhale a staggered breath, release the worry, and to just let my vulnerabilities go? There's no doubt; I have a lot to offer, which is why dating is so frustrating for me. The moment it seems that someone out there can be that hand, can challenge and cheer, will hold me and show me he is there, it all falls like sand through the fingertips. And sometimes I wonder if it's because, in many ways, I hold on too tight.

I bet this is how Freddie Mercury felt when he asked the desperate question: Can anybody find me somebody to love?


If you want me to be 100% truthful about it all, I want something special to happen between me and The Trainer. I cannot deny what my heart is feeling lately. This is the slowest I've ever taken anything in the dating world. The fact that I'm more excited about a first kiss is so new to me. By now, as in my past has shown, my toothbrush would be on his bathroom sink.

For now I am Amelie, once again melting into a puddle of longing and uncertainty. I could pray to things I believe and I don't believe, cross my fingers, eyes, and toes, but it won't change anything that happens tomorrow.

The Hesistation of Using Training Wheels

You're wondering when I was going to bring up The Trainer. I call him that for a couple of reasons. The most obvious one is that he is, in fact, an athletic trainer. Or, if you know me personally, you would call him an upgrade.

After messaging other guys on a dating website, I came across his profile. The first thing I noticed was his adorable friend: a sleepy puppy, cuddling against his master. The second thing I noticed was his bright eyes.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you are watching a death-defying act and you stutter a gasp? That's how it felt. I swallowed that gasp and opened up a message to compliment him on his eyes, along with his snoozing companion. This athletic and handsome guy couldn't possibly message me back. I was incredibly wrong. It was immediate. He accepted the compliment and we got to talking. What happened next surprised me: the conversations seemed natural.

I know, I know. How is that surprising? The fact that someone still wanted to talk to me. While it's never right to put one's self down, I couldn't get past how natural talking to him was. Some people call that chemistry.

Saturday night light chatting turned into Sunday morning texting. All day. It definitely helps that we had a lot in common, so conversation didn't get stale.

Naturally I was excited about the whole matter. Later I met with a friend of mine for dinner and mentioned him and how I felt like I was on training wheels for dating again. With reassuring eyes, she said that no matter what happens, I at least don't have to worry about expectations.

Come again?

When she explained it, it all made sense. Other than what I had read of him online, I didn't have other people's opinions about him, whether they were good or bad. If anyone has been set up by a friend, he or she knows that there is an image of this strange, new person you're about to meet. If it doesn't meet your expectations, you're let down and it's a bust. However, if it goes well (as it sometimes does) not all is lost. But it made me wonder.

What was I expecting out of this?

After what happened with CSB, I now know that I need in a partner, and that I have standards I'm ready to upkeep. The only expectation I had was to not waste my time on something less than deserving.

After almost three weeks of talking back and forth we were set to meet. Sadly, we hit a speedbump and life happened to him, so we had to call a rain check. What made this better was the words he said: I still definitely want to meet you.

Be still my mending heart.

That was nice to hear. And his curiosity about me made me curious too. I knew I wanted to meet him, but I was taken aback at how genuine that statement felt. It wasn't forced. None of this has been forced.

Is that what's supposed to happen?

I feel as though I'm a kid, in a neighborhood street, learning how to ride a bike again. Internally I'm begging to have the training wheels removed, but on the outside, I look as though I still need them.

This whole process has been a lesson in starting over and doing it the right way for myself. Not the easy way, not the apathetic way, not the "we'll-figure-it-out-later" way.

So far, he is a good trainer.

I could gush and go on about what we've talked about: books, our jobs, our dogs, our work, but that's not what makes it compelling. What does is that epiphany that this guy is good for me. And he probably doesn't even realize how important that is to me.

This is why I was eager to meet him, to study him, to understand what it is about him that makes me feel great. We've gone out on two dates and the scary part is admitting how much I want this to happen...and how I am willing to wait for it to get better, even if this feeling doesn't end with him.

So I'll slowly prop myself on the seat, carefully put one foot on the pedal, and then the other. With my head facing forward, head held high, I start to move with the training wheels, embracing how they are helping me take the next step without any fear.

The Beats that Move Us

My father always said this growing up. No news is good news. And it's true. Things with CSB have been quite amazing. This isn't going to be one of those intense, extremely wordy posts (maybe) where I analyze every last minutia of my relationship and dating CSB. No, this is simply to say I'm absolutely thrilled and in love. And anyone who's ever felt this way can write their own story here after reading my own. You know what? I lied; I'm totally going to ramble on because it's good to be in love.

I've had some conflicted feelings regarding my career status, and just to spare him from constant complaining, I almost never bring it up with him. Yet in his charming naivete, he asks me "why aren't you working in your field? You have a degree." Oh honey...it's not that easy! I have to remind myself that he spent 10 years in the Navy, and had job security that most would only dream of, especially in this economy. The whole point I'm driving at is this: he believes in me. He gazes into my eyes and encourages me to better myself and to not settle for anything less than what I want. Then it dawned on me: I am slowly reaching a point where I can do this in a relationship...so I should apply this to other facets in my life! He is handsome as he is smart. And like a typical man, he reaches out to offer a solution to a problem I have either never discussed or realized I had. In return, he looks to me to help him better himself. The other night I helped him restructure an annotated bibliography in MLA format. It's been six years since I've attempted to do this. But I took the time to reeducate myself so I can help him achieve the grades he desires.

There's so much to be said about the last month (!) I've spent with him. My mother had a bit of an accident and he talked to me into the daylight hours of Christmas making sure that I was fine.  I have worked insane hours this month, and all I wanted was a bowl of spaghetti. Tonight, after weeks of wanting some, he took me out to dinner. All of these things should be expected, right? Well, I'm still getting used to it. It's a change of pace to have a man pay attention to the little things, especially since I have always seemed to be the only one who paid attention to the minor details.. And all the while, I'm amazed because our schedules are drastically different since he started school again. He works early hours and goes to class at night. Like a hardworking student, he does homework when he's not at work or at school. I work a typical 9-5 and am lucky if I see him after class. Not to mention my fire troupe has been picking up business, so practice and shows are challenging and often. But he makes that time for me. What a wonderful change of pace.

We spend hours talking about music. I know I'm encroaching on cheesy territory here, but music really unites people in ways we don't think we can without it. Almost like saying good morning, I send him a YouTube video of a song I think he'd like. In return, we stay up till 2 in the morning, watching videos on his laptop, exploring new music together. What's more fascinating for me is that he automatically saves the song I show him, and talks to me about how he found more of the same he liked the next day. One night we played pool...well, he played pool and I just handled a cue stick like a fool. After a long set where I naturally won by default, he pulled out a $5 bill out of his pocket and said "let's play on the jukebox." And we had very similar tastes. We laughed at our choices and told stories about the songs we chose. And to cap it off, he ends our set with "I Touch Myself" because why not.

This is the man I'm falling in love with. The man who makes me laugh so loud in a restaurant that people stare, which makes him laugh harder. Let me remind you...his laugh is not cute! The man who texts me binary jokes (There are only 10 types of people in the world. Those that understand binary and those that don't.) so he can remember his IT homework. The man who checks in with me to tell me how much he's accomplished that day. The man who is excited at the idea that I have a job opportunity. The man who is excited to tell his friends he's dating a belly dancer. The man who wants me to teach him piano while he teaches me chess in return. The man who I can honestly say can turn my day around because I remember all of these things.

I can't think of anyone else I can have a conversation with about Yo Yo Ma's version of Elgar's cello concerto, and how much the 1st movement took my breath away. And in response, he shows me an opera from Hannibal that he thoroughly enjoyed. All of this followed by conversations of what we love about motorcycles.

In a previous post I talked about how sometimes dating someone can be a mundane series of events. This is not what it is, nor is it what I hope it turns out to be. This is a series of adventures full of stories I look forward to telling anyone who will listen. There is a passion with him that is difficult to explain sometimes. What we share is more than physical. The physical passion is just that much better because of the conversation, the coffee, the music...

I started this post with La Valse d'Amelie in my head and am finishing it with Elgar. I want to relive these moments with CSB. And it's silly and foolish because at this rate I won't have to; we will keep creating them. When was the last time someone came into your life and inspired you so much that you had to write about it?

And to think it started with a cup of Irish coffee, a magician, and a playing card.

It Comes Down to This New Adventure

I believe it's safe to say that CSB and I are officially a couple. He shows up to all my fire shows. He always reaches for a kiss. He always asks me what it is I want to do. And he simply wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him. This is such a great feeling!

But what, you ask, does that mean about the state of this blog? Well just because I'm not technically single anymore, it doesn't mean that I won't have any future adventures with CSB! With each new date and lover I've been with, I have encountered a new set of lessons, whether it has to do with life or love. OGM taught me what I'm willing to settle for. Academy Boy taught me that online dating isn't for the weak at heart.

And CSB? Well, I have had to learn how to accept being adored. I know it sounds odd, but truly I am not used to being so desired, at least in the non-sexual sense. I've either dealt with the mundane schedule of doing a,b, and c, or having the pleasure of being with a phantom boyfriend. What's that, you ask. You know when your friends ask about your boyfriend and they know ALL about him but they never see him? That is what we call a phantom boyfriend.And as stated earlier, I've also had to define what the line is between a completely physical relationship and something more meaningful and deserving.

In any event I will always have something to talk about. I will always have casual observances on dating. I will continue to enlighten your day with little stories about the crazy ways I fall in love. From my many conversations with friends, I  totally understand now that everyone falls in love differently and falls into relationships differently. I have always thought that by sharing my stories, it would help me further understand what I require, what I refuse to settle for, and then hopefully help you, my readers, reach the same little epiphanies that I do with my single girl adventures.

In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy my midnight dates, have deep, insightful conversations about fate and coincidence in a crowded club, laugh at his ridiculous laugh, and enjoy myself being happy with someone else who is happy with me. Because isn't that what it's all about anyway?

 

Fear of Falling

My best friend laughed at me one recent morning and said in so many words, you are so gung ho with everything in your life, but why are you so cautious and weird when it comes to dating?"

I guess I must have had donut-glazed eyes and have been gliding around in a hazy disposition when she saw me. My heart is still a'flutter with the possibilities of my adventure with CSB. I find myself giggling when I usually have a boisterous, sea-parting laugh. I'm watching romantic French movies on my small 25-inch screen TV (reading subtitles is difficult on such a small screen!). I have been listening to songs that send lightning through my veins because I want to duplicate the way I feel whenever I'm with him (romantic heroin? Ugh, that sounds awful...). 

Let's be real here: I haven't exactly taken the straightest path to dating enlightenment. And I do think about it often. What DOES make me so scared of plunging all-in for love? Anything new is scary, and that's exactly what this experience is. We haven't had "that talk" of what we are, but I have made it clear that I'm not some girl he can just hook up with and leave me on the side, which he responded well to on more than one occasion. Breakfast after sex is usually a good indicator of being in some semblance of a relationship, right? I like where this is going, so why force it?


This is why falling in love is so scary for me. Of course I understand there is always a risk in love. Yes, that little, one syllable four-letter word:  

Love.

I've accepted that I have fallen in love with a man I barely know. How can my heart know that this is something good, but my brain is saying, slow your roll, homegirl? You're being foolish! Yet we can make love all night and go out to breakfast in the morning and continue to enjoy learning about each other. Do you understand how awesome that is? And because that's awesome, I'm afraid something as silly as my insecurity about this situation will ruin it. Does that make sense? Because I have to ask myself too if I'm in love with an idea I'm afraid of losing...

And he has this creepy Tom Cruise "I'm in love with Katie Holmes" crazy laugh. He smokes. But you know what? I don't care. I like him in spite of those things! We were at a club on a recent weekend and he was making me laugh with his adventurous spirit. It was crowded and when people would bump into him, he'd yell something absurd like WE'RE SWINGERS! I guess most girls would balk and run away, but I laughed! It was just so ridiculous. And we were outside talking to our friends and he was going to get a drink at the bar. I told him I'd stay out. He looked at me with his beautiful blue eyes and said, "come with me. It will be an adventure."

On another recent occasion, I received a text message from him. Here's how the conversation went:

Him: So your friend asked me about you tonight.
Me: Ok. Who?
Him: So and So's girlfriend
Me: Oh ok! Well, what did you say?
Him: That we're getting married next week. Best to thrive on awkwardness
Me: Be still my beating heart. Since this is short notice, I'll pick catering...the hot dog cart. Our friend can officiate as well!
Him: Haha! :)

Okay, I really, really may have met my match.  And I don't want this to end. He is this intriguing individual. And when I think back on how this all started it's such a wonderful story that I don't want to end. From watching afar, doe-eyed and scared to make my presence known, to asking a magician to pull the right card from his stack. From late night text messages to midnight rendezvous into a whole new world. From late mornings under a down comforter to waking up with him and the adorable dog who chewed my shoes.

I know often times in my posts I say that I'm ready for something serious, something real, not something to pass the time. But I have to laugh at my naiveity. Because it wouldn't be the first time a story started out as a simple series of amusing events, something "not serious." Over time, these events can continue to play out as a series of misadventures which become incredibly mundane, or they can develop into greater adventures that collect and resonate with time, creating new and wonderful beginnings. So far, I can say that we've both kept up with each other. There's that fun little thing called The Chase, and it's been fun playing hide and go seek with a worthy opponent.

When I was younger, I always lived by the words, "labels are for cans," and as I've gotten older, I applied this phrase to relationships. As a result, I've gotten burnt. The boys would either take advantage of my carefree nature and completely forget I exist, or they would see it as an opportunity to let me know they're only here for a good time. I also suppose that is another reason for my fears. But the funny thing is that I was super cautious with OGM and my ex before him. I didn't dare think, let alone utter the word "love" when each one invaded my life. Then this man enters my world, full speed, without a warning label, and I'm in love. You can't help who you fall for or how hard you fall, I've learned.

What a good friend did tell me is that I can control the way I handle it. I kind of laughed, but it's worth trying. Being cautious has saved me from being totally hurt, but it has kept me from something I so believe I deserve. So long as he continues to show up unexpectedly to see me at work, text me nonsense at midnight, and hold my hand on our way to a bar excursion, I won't complain. I will relish falling in love. If I can free fall 10,000 feet from a rickety plane with a stranger on my back, I can fall headfirst and heart first into this crazy little adventure called love.