Life in the Middle Lane

It seems like a lot of people lately are getting engaged or married. The overarching theme that I hear at engagement parties, and wedding showers and on invitations is the idea that marriage means getting to spend the rest of your life with your best friend.

What a wonderful idea.

Presumably, when two people decide to get married they have things in common. They know each other’s likes and dislikes, favorite foods, favorite movies, personal styles and so forth.  But more importantly, these two people are able to identify each other’s smells and the taste of one’s skin.  They know what they expect to feel when they touch a favorite body part.  If one were to hear the other’s voice at a distance, over the phone or across the way, they know unconsciously that it is them.

Countless times a day I think a thousand variations of “I have to share this with the GF!” when I read or see something that makes me laugh or cry. And I sometimes send her half a dozen emails when I read something that I know she will find interesting.

So when I hear about friends that have been in relationships as long or longer than myself going through the messiest of break-ups or even those that end because “We just aren’t right for each other anymore” I automatically put myself in their shoes and try to figure out what the GF and I can do to avoid their fates.

I understand what it feels like to want to spend the rest of your life with my best friend.  And it makes my stomach hurt to think about living my life without her in it.  I’ve lost best friends before, and it ain’t fun. I don’t want to go through that again.

When I see my newly single friends bouncing back from a break up, I marvel at how they do it.  How do you turn off the “I can’t wait to share this with them” button?  How do you forget about this person that meant so much to you? How does one go from sharing the most intimate details of life with a person to never speaking to them again?   Call me crazy, but I get attached.  Once I’ve shared myself with you, I find it difficult to just forget about all those details and go about my existence without at least wondering about the other person.

Unfortunately, the reality of life is that break-ups happen.  People, interests, desires all change. Sometimes we make stupid mistakes that change the course of our lives and relationships.  And while I know a break up would not literally kill me, that pain is not one that I relish having.  And maybe that’s why I try so hard to keep my relationship together.

I was watching an L Word DVD this weekend. In one of the overly-dramatic scenes one of the characters (Jody) realizes that her girlfriend (Bette) is a lying cheater. During the break up, Jody said that two things that really resonated with me.

Jody asks Bette if she still loves her, Bette says yes.  Jody clarifies by asking if she loves her to the exclusion of all others. Of course, cheating-ass Bette just looked sad and stupid.

Do you love me to the exclusion of all others?

WOW. That’s asking a lot, right? I mean, I understand the sentiment behind it- fidelity and so forth- but when you think about it that’s a pretty powerful statement.  Loving one person to the exclusion of all others means, of course, that you will be faithful to and love only that one person.  But in my estimation, this ACTUALLY refers to excluding everyone else.  This is why married couples leave their parents and start their own household.

Today, one of my friends told me she was happy to have couple friends because couple friends understand the importance of “couple time”. Couple time excludes everyone else. It’s time for you and your boo- alone.

In past relationships I was the girl that left her boyfriend at home and partied with her friends. I preferred my friends; I was more likely to exclude HIM. My current relationship is different.  I’d rather be with the GF than anyone else.  And when I am with my friends, I can’t wait to come home to her.

But that’s not all that happened on The L Word. Later in the scene, Jody proceeds to break down.  She lamented the fact that she allowed herself to love Bette as much as she did.  She said I was fine before I met you.

I had to yell at the TV screen at that one! Jody I feel you, girl!  Sometimes the GF pisses me off so BAD! Sometimes she does things that make me think back to the night we met.  I remember our first few dates and I think, if only she’d kept her damn hands to herself. If only we hadn’t had such a strong connection. If only she had left me alone.

I was fine before I met her. My life was going according to plan.  Granted, when we met I was ending a relationship that was less that satisfying but I had great friends, a great job and my heart was in check.

Then I fell in love with the GF and nothing has been fine since.  No one has makes me as mad as she does, no one makes me laugh as hard and no one makes my heart feels so full.

But sometimes I want to strangle her

I’ve been in Atlanta for almost two months now, and I’ve settled into my life with the GF and I’ve gotten a job. Next on my list of things to do is to make myself some friends. So like any good Gen Y quasi-computer geek, I went straight to Meetup and twitter. And while twitter hasn’t been really fruitful (too much spam) Meet up has been amazing.

There are meetup groups for anything you want to do. Me, I’ve joined a couple of arts/film/food lovers groups, a couple of writing groups and a couple of book clubs. So far, my I haven’t been able to attend many of the activities. All the activities tend to happen at the same time that I have something else going on!!!

A few weeks ago, I went to one book club meeting, and I wasn’t impressed. I spent a week quickly reading the book club selection, and not really liking the book. I almost chickened out of going to the meeting (I’m shy and not that into meeting new people). I talked myself into going, only to be pretty disappointed. I ended up leaving the meeting sad and depressed. I didn’t feel a connection to any of the the other members, and there wasn’t anything about that meeting to convince me to return.

Today was different, I attending a Women of Worth book club meeting. It was, in two words, hilariously awesome. It was my kind of book club; we read poems and drank vodka and laughed our asses off. It was so much fun.

When I got home, the GF asked me if I felt silly for getting all bend out of shape over the first failed meeting up. I didn’t actually answer her, but yep. I feel a little silly.

I generally have a pretty f-ed up view of the world. I expect the worst to happen.  I expect people to behave badly.  I have a horrible time trusting people.  I’m a cynic and a pessimist. I’m naturally sensitive, but I try VERY hard to keep my emotions under wrap, in a box with a key in a vault.  In a cave, under the ocean. (Being called a crybaby as a child will do that to you)

So when I read beautiful things written by beautiful people it makes me really happy and my faith in the world is restored (at least briefly).  And Marie had made me pretty happy today. In her post, Take Care, she asserts that we are in the lives of our friends, lovers, families because God trusts us to take care of them.

Read it again to make sure you got it. God trusts us to take care of them.

WOW. I got chill bumps while reading that statement!!! It is such an amazing and empowering thought. I am responsible for taking care of the people with whom I’ve been blessed to interact.

Sometimes I think about packing up my life and running away and living in a cave in the Midwest.  I’ve wondered if anyone would notice or care if I was no longer around. Most times I think I make a so-so friend. So to think that God (in her/his all-knowing wisdom) trusts me?!?!?!

I have friends and family with whom I have a cosmic (in my mind, at least) connection with.  People with whom I immediately feel comfortable.  People with whom I can be my total ridiculous self.  People who know me better than I know myself.  People who (on the days that I believe in reincarnation) I believe I’ve been living and dying with throughout the millennia. People I would die to save.

People who I am very guilty of occasionally treating badly.  People who I haven’t called, texted or even tweeting in forever. I ignore phone calls. I hold grudges.  I hurt feelings.  I rush to get off the phone or off the IM. I have horrible trust issues. I have hang-ups that keep me distant and invulnerable.

Sometimes I consciously tell myself that I shouldn’t care about anyone.  Caring makes one vulnerable and out of control. And I don’t want to be vulnerable and out of control.

When I think about how I treat people, I feel like an asshole.  Because Marie is right. How dare I not care? How dare I not trust myself to be the kind of lover, friend, family member that my loved ones deserve? I mean, if God can trust me (and my friends and family trust me) to do it properly, what’s my f-ing problem?

I’ve been admonished.

Thanks, Marie for reminding me that love, friendship and family are beautiful gifts that shouldn’t be taken lightly.  I promise to do better.  And I printed out her post and am taping it on my Vision Board.  I want to be the kind of person that God, apparently, thinks I am.

Worthy of the people in my life.

Over the past month, my awesome life coach, Jenny Ferry, and I have been working on being present in my life. As the end of an era approaches, I am to take advantage of my classmates and other friends and love them and be with them while we are all in Chapel Hill. 

Tonight, a group of us got together and had Indian food. 

Not just normal Indian food.  One of us found this Indian lady who cooks every Wednesday at her house.  She doesn’t just cook; this woman stick’s her little Indian foot in it!  With an RSVP you can come to her house, eat in or take out dinner for $10 a person. 

We went in with tuberware, got a crazy amount of food, left and ate dinner (family-style) by the pool at our apartment complex. 

It was SO much fun. And the food was A-MAZING.

We ate, and talked about each other, our classmates, our professors.  As I am not a fan of small talk, I love intimate conversations about hopes, fears, concerns, life…. And tonight was that kind of conversation. 

 I love that every time I talk to my classmate friends I reveal parts of myself and learn new things about them.  I love our closeness, I love our easiness, I love our generosity with each other.  Even though we will be scattered across the country in a few weeks, and I will be soooooo far away from these crazies that I have come to love and admire, I KNOW that these are my life friends.  While our relationships will change with our geography, I have to beleive that we can remain a part of each other’s lives.  (otherwise I’ll go stark raving mad)

I love my ‘maties!

Anyone who has even been in my apartment has probably looked at my book collection (it is impressive) and anyone who has looked at my bookshelf as probably seen my collection of astrology books.  I love astrology.  I believe that many of the things we need to know about each other can be explained through our sun and rising signs. I’m a Sagittarius sun sign with a Leo rising sign (aka I’m a tactless nomad who wants to be queen of the world, lol) 

Anyway, I’ve celebrated half a dozen birthdays this month. No. Seriously I have.  It only took me about 5 minutes to look around me and see something that was mildly shocking. 

I’m surrounded by Aries women; the GF, my college BFF, and my post-college BFF, along with 4 of my favorite classmates are all Aries women.  

As I’ve celebrated one birthday after another this month, I’ve pondered this serious question. 

What is it about me (or them) that makes me love Aries women? 

When I really started thinking about it I realized a few things: 

Sagittarius and Aries are both fire signs which means that Aries is one of the few signs that can handle what I dish out.  My friends and I, and the GF and I can fight and not kill each other.  This is important in relationships.  Some signs (*cough* water signs) are super sensitive, and trip out over the bluntness of an Aries or the tactlessness of a Sag girl. 

Fire signs are strong signs.  We are not wishy-washy. If a hard decision needs to be made, ask a fire sign to make it.  Fire signs are natural leaders, and can generally be found telling someone else what to do.  You’d think that this would make it hard for two fire signs to get along, but Sagittarius is a mutable fire sign, which leaves me more flexible that than the stubborn ram. 

Fire signs are confident.  I like that in my friend, who wants to hang out with someone who always needs to be told how hot they are.  When I tell my friends how cute they look, I often get the “I know it” look.

I’ve done LOTS of those compatibility tests, and they always say that I am most compatible with other Sagittarians and Aries. Always. It always says something about only being with someone who could match my passion with an equal passion of their own….and could put up with my sh!t and not let me take advantage of them.  

It seems that I have taken heed to that recommendation and let it slip over into my platonic life. My life is richer and full of people who understand me because of it.  I haven’t lived my life asking potential friends immediately about their zodiac signs (wait, I have done this once or twice), but I when I think about my various groups of friends I can only think of two or three who aren’t fire signs (and one of those is my baby sister, the Pisces).

 It seems I can truly find my match when I play with other fire signs. (Maybe I should ask all new friends about their zodiac signs.) 

Happy Birthday to all my April Aries Babes! You rock my world!

Hey you, what’s your sign? (Since we are talking about it, and all.)

Friday night was the MPA picnic.  Officially, it is the last get together before graduation. Unofficially I expect to drink with my classmates every night between now and May 9th aka graduation day!!!!!

I hate the MPA picnic because is huge, everyone from administrators to faculty is invited and it is the one event where EVERYONE brings their kids and families. It happens way out in the country and it is OUTSIDE so I get eaten by mosquitoes.  Furthermore, I have to make nice with people that I really don’t like much.

I decide (at the very last minute) that I should go.  (I mean, it is the LAST official event). I figured it would be worth it since skits and stuff were planned where we get to make funny of each other. (I like to experience my 15 minutes of fame like everyone else.)

 I was horrendously late; fortunately, I didn’t miss the real festivities (just the food). 

After about an hour of small talk, finally we came to the reason for the gathering! The faculty gave our class our superlative awards.  I received the award for most likely to grow an electronic appendage.  (This is hilarious SINCE I DON’T EVEN HAVE A BLACKBERRY!!!! —-Can you tell I really want a smart phone???) I had no idea that anyone else had noticed the number of texts I send and receive, my in-class blogging, twittering and facebooking.  Or how I am always preaching to them about the power of the world wide web.

Remedial as it is, my phone, laptop or netbook are never far away, and I have been known to stop a conversation to check on my phone. Since I seem to be the most technologically advanced of all my classmates, I guess it is only fair that I am awarded for my self-promotion efforts.

Later my classmates and I introduced ourselves. (we’ve had to introduce ourselves 100’s of times over the past 2 years)  This time we introduced each other using the academic, professional, and personal information we have gathered about each other over the past 4 semesters.  I was introduced as the Social Media Queen (no surprise there).  The introduction went on to say that when I’m famous, I’m firing everyone.  This was cute and funny because in class whenever we talk about ethics and HR practices, I’m always quick to fire someone. I have ZERO patience for ethical lapses.  If someone knowingly breaks the rules, I believe they should be fired.  However, in HR and Ethics classes my classmates continue to be appalled at the speed with which I would fire someone.  All in all, I LOVED my introduction.

Shortly after the introductions, I left the picnic.  I figured I should leave before I realized how much I’m going to miss those crazy sons of bitches. I didn’t want to consider how empty my life will feel without them in it every day.  Seriously, I prayed for friends, then I was admitted into the MPA program and fell in love with 25 strangers.  Now it’s all over.

And I’m too cool to cry in front of them.

This is really a testament to my absent-mindedness and my sheer unexpected genius.

A really close and dear friend of mine let me borrow something expensive (I’m not going to tell what is was, hopefully to prevent my friend from killing me)  that was extremely on my recent  trip to California.  It was amazing to have this particular thing.  It made my life so much easier, and honestly I don’t think I could have gotten around the region as easily without it. 

When I landed in San Francisco, I immediately needed this item so I took it out of my luggage so that I could use it.  It was at that time that I saw that it was a multi-piece item.  I kept the piece that I needed out, and I hid the other pieces in a place where they would be “safe”.  For this very expensive luxury item, the safest place was the glove box.  Not the middle storage section under the arm rest where I kept other stuff, but the glove box. 

(aside) My biggest fear when I borrow something from someone, especially when it is expensive, is that I’ll break it, lose it or get it stolen. I work very hard to make sure that those things (especially the part where I lose something) don’t happen.  So I’m generally a great person to let borrow something, because your stuff is SAFE with me. (HA! LOL) The GF doesn’t ever like it when I borrow her books. 

I used this thing all week and it was a life saver.  And the pieces that were in the glove box? Never had to use those, so I never thought about then again.

Anyway, when I was leaving my rental car in the San Francisco airport for my return flight home, I was very careful to make sure that I got everything out of the car. I checked the front seats, under the front seats, in the back and in the trunk.  And I was very careful to put this particular item in my checked bag.  (I didn’t want to have to lug it out and send it through the x-ray machine.)

When I got home, my friend asked for the item back because she needed it.  And I gave it to her.  Her first words to me where “Where is the rest of it?”

My heart sank.  I told her that the rest of it was in my luggage, and I’d get it to her when I finished unpacking. And I started praying that that sh*t was there because I wasn’t sure.

A couple days later I finally finished unpacking.

And a few days during a bout of  insomnia it hit me; I never saw that item when I unpacked everything.

 I got out of bed and checked my suitcases. Not there. I checked through my dirty clothes. Not there.

I go back to bed and fall asleep.

The next night, in the middle of the night, I remember where the hell I put this thing. In the f-ing glove compartment!!!!!! 

I’m starting to feel sick because I CAN NOT afford to replace this thing and I’m thinking that the odds are low that the item is still in the car. 

I call the car rental office (in the middle of the night) and am told to call back the next day.  Which I do. 

The next morning, 8 am pacific time, 11 am est, I call the car rental office again, am transferred to Lost and Found (I am very excited that they have a lost and found).  I tell the lady that over a week ago I rented a car and left pieces of this really expensive thing in it.  I describe the car and the thing and I tell her that I am 99% sure that it is in the glove compartment.  In less than ten minutes, she confirms it. She makes me verify that this thing is mine (apparently this happens frequently), and she pops it in the mail to me.  

I got it today.  And I did a little jig.  (And made sure to thank the heavenly deities) 

Times like this, I love my life. 

Moral of the story-> Things in the glove compartment are safe. But don’t put stuff in the glove box to keep it safe; if you are absent-minded like me put expensive things somewhere where they can be seen and not forgotten. (or remember to check the glove box, dummy) 

 

God takes care of children and fools, at some point I left one group and joined the other.

I heard that Wednesday is Day without a Gay Day, where gay people are supposed to call out of work to show the straight people what it would be like without gay people. Unfortunately (or whatever) I am an hourly employee, and I do not have the option of righteous indignation. A day without work, for me, equals a day without pay. And it’s the holiday season so I gotta buy gifts and my bills still come whether gay people have equal rights or not. So instead of calling out of work, I’m writing a blog about gay stuff. That’s just my contribution.

In addition to telling everyone I know about Day without a Gay day, I decided to also tell some gay stuff about myself.  Wanna hear it? Here it go.

1. I’m not one of those man-hating dykes.  I actually really love men. Some of my favorite people are men.  I find them attractive and wonderful.  Some of them even smell good. Some are even super awesome kissers. And in my book, being a good kisser and smelling good are good ways to end up with a Monica attached.  Unfortunately (or whatever) the thought of actually having sex with a man makes me throw up a little in my mouth. No, not really. In all honesty, it makes me feel like this: ____________________________________________________________________________________

And that is not the way I’m supposed to feel about having sex.

2. I think there is a gayness scale. And EVERYONE, even ugly ass Laura Bush falls somewhere on the gay scale.  As one of my lesbian friends tells it, everyone has a little homo inside. She actually said something dirtier, but I’m not printing it in this blog, lol.

On my gay scale, 1 equals not so gay and 10 equals super duper gay. I think I fall around a 7-8 on most days.  This makes me pretty freaking gay, as the gf often tells me.  The gf also says many gay people who have been gay for a long time aren’t as gay as I am.  I take that as a compliment.

3. My mother told me today that one of my cousins said I had gay tendencies. Hilarity (and slight confusion). What’s even funnier is that this is a cousin that I see, tops, 3 times a year, and one of the last times I saw her, I was engaged. To a man.

So my mom was telling my cousin about my ‘friend’ and it slipped that this was no ordinary girlfriend. To which my cousin replied, I’m not surprised, Monica does seem to have gay tendencies.”

What the f*ck does that mean? I mean, gay people don’t always think I’m gay. In gay clubs, I’m the chick that looks like the straight chick that’s just there to support her gay friends. And none of the lesbians talk to me. Which is tragic, because I like to be hit on.

But really,  I shouldn’t be surprised. When I came out to my friends, for the most part, they all said some form of, Well duh, nitwit, we were just waiting for you to figure it out.

Argh! I wish my asshole friends had let me in on the secret, or set me up with a pretty girl or SOMETHING! Damn them.

4. I’m pretty out to my friends; they know me better that I know myself anyway.  I came out to a select few of my classmates, although I think most of them had figured it out, ’cause you can’t refer to a person as a) A significant other or 2) They, them or other non-gendered pronouns without the Master’s kids figuring out that something is up. But when we were thinking of renting a 6 bedroom house together I figured I should tell them that I’m sleeping with a woman before we signed the lease paperwork (I wanted to give them one last out before they’d be stuck with me).

I’m not out to my co-workers, not because I think they’d stone me, but because I’m really confused about how the whole, “Hi everyone, I’m gay” conversation actually comes up.  I mean, if the gf is ever in town when I have a work thing, I would definitely bring her and introduce her as my girlfriend, just like I did over the summer on my internship. (I still don’t think most of my summer co-workers got it, even though L tried to make it as obvious as possible.)

5.  I don’t really think gay people should get married.  But not because they are gay.  I don’t think anyone should get married. I think getting married is stupid.  What’s the point really, when you can get divorced for $300?  However, I do think that EVERYONE should have the right to do the same thing, so if straight people can get married (and divorced) at the drop of a dime, why the hell can’t everyone else?  Especially since I fully believe that 2/3 of the straight people could happily be in homosexual relationships.

6. Love, Actually is my FAVORITE holiday movie, and I think someone should buy it for me.  I’m adding it to my Amazon wish list. Look up my Amazon wish list using my email, which is here.

Happy Hump Day!!!!!!!  Hug a Gay person

I had three really great conversations with cool, intelligent people over the course of 48 hours. And the topic of conversation?  ME!

This is what I learned from those conversations:

>>I am under tremendous pressure. Not because of deadlines, and papers and graduating from MPA School, however. I am under increasingly large amounts of pressure because I care too damn much about what other people think of me. Large amounts of my time is wasted because I am wondering, thinking, stressing over what this or that person is thinking about my decisions, my words, my life. I’ve called myself a chameleon for years, it is only now that I realize that this is not a compliment.  My chameleon behavior has caused me to wonder “Who the hell am I, really?” Because I’m someone different for everybody.

This is a problem, but I have no one to blame but myself.

>>I have carried friends and loved ones on my back, making sure that their lives ran smoothly, fixing their problems, being a sounding board but in the meantime I forgot about little ol’ me.  Who the f*ck takes care of me?  Instead of advocating on my own behalf, I have been more likely to work for the best interest of others. I ask, What works for you? What do you need? What will make you happy? Never once stopping to ask myself, What the f*ck do you want, Monica?

This behavior must cease and desist.

>>I say bad things about myself all the time. Regardless of all the great things I do on a daily. Despite all the awesomeness that seeps from my pores on the pages of this blog.   I often have feeling of unworthiness, inadequacy (this would be worse if I were a man, hee hee), I dwell on my shortcomings, my mistakes, regrets, etc. In short, I am never good enough (in my own mind).

And that is just plain wrong! I am so cool.

How do I know? Everyone tells me so .

Seriously, I have NEVER given myself a reason not to believe in my coolness. I always bring it. I rock. (Even as I say it, I don’t know why I have such a hard time believing it.)

I have to unwind my negative tape. And put in a better more positive tape (thanks for that visual, gf!) And give myself a daily pep talk.

>>My life is better when I’m spontaneous. And flying by the seat of my pants.  When I make a decision quickly, I’m a happy camper.  If I have time to stress, agonize, and worry about a problem, then I stress and worry, then make the decision anyway, but at the end I have a decision and an ulcer.

My need for spontaneity may explain why procrastination works so well for me. The last minute allows me to do what I need to do.  Then I release the decision, project, problem into the Universe, and I don’t have to worry about it anymore.  When I have too much time to work on a project, I end up stressing over it, and waiting til the last minute anyway.

>>I’m a rule breaker. I like to do things my way. I don’t like to walk single file. I don’t like to follow the speed limit. I don’t follow directions well. I will do stupid stuff sometimes just to see if I can get away with it.

But you know what? For 26 mutha f-ing years, I have done NOTHING but follow the rules and do what everyone expected of me.

And I’m over it.

I have been having a reoccurring NIGHTMARE for at least 3 years, where I’m suffocating and no one will help me, even when I scream my little head off.  Tuesday, someone that I pay to listen to me said something along the line of ” Well, if you’d let her out of her cage more often she wouldn’t try to kill you.”

She didn’t really say that. But she should have.

What she did say was that I am all I need and I am good enough. And when I free myself from the pressure of being PERFECT then I’ll stop suffocating. And when I truly understand and believe in myself, my super scary nightmare will go away. Because the real Monica is ready to stand up.

Intellectually I get all this. I see how all these horrible bad habits make my life harder and miserable. But old habits are hard to break. Will people still love me if I start caring for myself more than them? I sure hope so, but that is not the point here.

The point is that I’m learning, slowly but surely how to get back to me (for the first time, ever).

And I love my gf, ’cause she lets me be a complete teary mess and she listens to me.  She reminded me (and I didn’t even have to pay her for this nugget of wisdom) of all the things I’ve done over the past 18 months where I did what I wanted instead of what EVERYONE else expected.

• I broke up with my fiancé- who is a great guy, btw (just not for me)
• I started dating a woman
• I told my family that I’m dating a woman
• I moved out on my own
• I started graduate school
• I’m taking a hodge podge of non-finance/budget classes
• I’m moving far far away from here

And these are all things that make me happy. And I don’t care what you other f*ckers think!