Cutie Patootie Date Spot

The Cherry Tomato

This restaurant truly offers a perfect atmosphere for a first, second, third, or fiftith date. It's adorable, cozy, and romantic. The wine list ranges from expensive to very affordable, the food is cooked in an open kitchen, and the service is almost sweeter than the canolies (which are amazing). The truth is, I am not really a "let's go out for Italian food" type of girl, but The Cherry Tomato, I love. I could dine there all day, every day, and never grow tired of the food or the atmosphere.

First on my LIKE list: Carbonara Pasta...and I don't even like bacon. Second on my LIKE list: Award Winning Meat Lasagna.

http://www.cherrytomatodenver.com/Home.html

4645 East 23rd Avenue

Denver, CO 80207

(303) 377-1914

Tickle Toy

Soooo this one time, I got a tickler. It came from a boy I was about to go on a date with. I mean, most boys bring, if anything, flowers. But the boy I found brought a tickler, from China nonetheless. He handed it to me as he walked in the door, expecting me to be grateful, expecting me to swoon. I grasped the tickler, certainly wearing my questions and shock on my face. I looked up...half flirtatiously, half in "you're an idiot" voice and asked him if he gave this toy to all of his female conquests. He replied, honestly and quickly, "no, I typically reserve such a prize only for the children."

*The said tickler is actually called a CAUTUYEN...apparently it is a children's toy, similar to a hackey sack.

That is so Colorado.

In Colorado, the boys don't ask you to dinner or a movie for a first date; they ask you to a bluegrass festival, a camping weekend, a half marathon relay race, a hike, or maybe, if he's ready for something chill, a brewery tour.

clear pool vs swampy land

I have a couple friends who have recently begun dipping their toes into the online dating pool. Online dating has become a legitimate way to meet significant others, and my friends seem to enter into the sign up process with the same excitment that I feel when securing a new catch. They glow when they get winked at and talk excitedly about noticing a new fish, much the same as noticing someone new in "real" life. However, it is not the same. From what I can tell, it seems that online dating comes with a heavier emotional burden than "regular" dating. And this perceived burden has caused me to run in the opposite direction from the online dating world.
When I meet someone face-to-face, I make small talk, laugh lightly, giggle at his jokes, allow him to buy me a drink, and eventually exchange numbers. On the first date, I may, or may not, begin diving into the deeper stuff; it's slow, and I don't have to disclose too much information until I feel confident and comfortable with the other person.
Online dating really scares me because, prior to the first date, there is already communication through the website, texts, emails, and phone calls. Users' profiles themselves contain much information and photos, so to me, it seems like there is opportunity for rejection before even seeing each other face to face.
And there we go--I have labeled my fear of online dating--REJECTION. What if I put all this information and pictures of myself on the website and no one even winks at me? How would it feel to have others see me, read about me and then not want me?
And what if they do like what they see in the online catalog? What if they do put me in their cart and ask to see me soon? It could work out, but, if it doesn't, what happens when there is already a sense of attachment because of the mulitple communication trys prior to date one?
For the sake of my heart, and all the boys who may want to wink at me online, I'll try to stay out of the online dating pool and keep my feet on the swampy land that is "regular dating".

Techno-feed

Image via Wikipedia

There is something to be said about dating in the 21st Century. I'm not sure what the something is exactly, but I know that technology like cell phones and computers and communication options such as texting, facebooking, and internet dating sites are, at the same time, the best and worst motivators for dating. Last week I went on a date. Before going on the date, I googled him. Not only did I google him, I facebooked him and google imaged him and LinkedIn him. Honestly, I don't even know what information I was actually hoping to find; I just knew that if there was any information out there, I wanted and needed to know it pre-dinner at Vine Street. I mean, it's crazy the amount of information we can find about people before we even meet them. My friends and I pass off this digital stalking as necessary for safety reasons. I mean, what if he has already lied about his job, current city, or even having a girlfriend. What if he is in a Facebook-declared relationship, and we have no idea? What if he lives with his parents or has a creepy criminal background? I have a friend who recently googled her new lover. She had been on maybe four dates with him at this point, and apparently, should have googled him prior to date 1. Her google search led her to discover that he was on the list for being a convicted peeping tom. Creepy and gross? Yes. Important to know before getting too attached? Definitely. Information that will kill any future dates with Creepy-Mc-Creeperson? Absolutely.
The truth is, I think our internet stalking screening reasons go way beyond safety. In truth, when I googled my date, I learned that he was outdoorsy, liked to cook, and use to be a dj. I also learned that he has had mulitple jobs in the past few years, lives on a farm, never wants children, and has 3 dogs and a cat. I think the cat was the deal breaker...I went into the date unenthusiastic and less excited had I not googled him.
Here's the kicker...not only, do we have the ability to learn valuable information before the date, we have the unfortunate advantage to learn heart-wrenching information after the relationship, date, or sex have ended. I have a friend who googled her ex-boyfriend. He was an ex from a long time ago, and he sucked. I mean, he hurt her feelings often and in the end, he cheated and then left her for a new girl. She googled his name; clearly, she was hoping to find out horrible information involving arrests, convictions, or anything really that would her to believe he lives in a world of constant unhappiness and pain. That karma is real and exists. Much to her dismay, she learned he is a business moguel who left his 6 figure salaried job to begin a which benefits at-risk children. I mean, what a blow!
And then, there is facebook. Chances are, if you're dating someone or friends with benefits or even just casually sexing someone, you've friended them on facebook. I mean, facebook has got to be the dumbest idea ever because once things end, whether good or bad, you're forced to get their updates, see their pictures, and even learn about their next relationships. You are slapped in the face with how they've moved on, completely, and left you behind. It doesn't even matter how amazing your life is without that person...because it really only matters that they're happy without you, and everyday you get to see the proof on your f-ing newsfeed.

So ladies...take caution with internet tools. Protect yourself, but also, protect your hearts. Stalk only as necessary and really, don't be afraid to not friend or add contacts or even delete contacts after things are over.

breakfast before sex.

i didn't really expect to meet a boy at a bluegrass festival in lyons...especially because i was attending the festival with family friends. but...a few beers and tunes into the festival, i was my usual socialite-self, buzzing from booth to booth, dancing with different groups, and chatting with various other bluegrass lovers. while walking towards the beer tent, a dark, curly haired boy reached out his silver fat tire glass to cheers my own mug of ipa. his name was marco--he teaches in china. really, that should have stopped me from pursuing any form of romantic contact, but alas, it did not. we went for a walk next to the river, sat on the rocks together holding hands, and even shared an innocent peck on the lips. i mean...apparently, i went from attending a family function to a romantic getaway with a water view.
eventually, we had to say goodbye and go our separate ways, but not before exchanging numbers. we agreed to meet the next day for brunch, before he headed out of town. so, brunch we did, at snooze, denver's popular brunch-boozing place. we talked about everything under the sun--recent heartaches, long lost loves, family dramas, dreams, goals, hopes, regrets.
the thing is, i didn't like him...not even a little bit. i wasn't attracted to him in the slightest, i didn't like the way he looked at the world, and i disagreed with almost every aspect of his education philosophy. and yet, over drinks and breakfast, i was able to open up to him more than some of my closest friends. i told him things about myself that i have never, in my life, told anyone. the encounter ended sooner rather than later...i mean, i only have so many deep, dark secrets to confess. after breakfast, we shared a quick hug, exchanged numbers-mostly to be polite--and parted ways.
watching him walk away from my front door, i came to the conclusion that everything i did with him, is everything i need to bring into my actual relationships, with the boys i like. with him, i was laid back and fun, as usual, but i was also deep and emotional and serious and a little bit broken. in short, i didn't just give him fun; i gave him all of me. and i liked it.

love in the morning.

The eggs, raw and liquidy in the silver bowl

Stirred into a color between
orange yolk and clear fluid.

Swirled with lines of seasoned salt,
decorating not only the eggs
but my tongue too.

The salt is a gift from you.

You told me that secret
on a morning in October
when you cared that I
had the best eggs in the world.

a bootate

so, my new realization of the 20-something dating world comes from my own recent experiences as well as the recent experiences of my friends. my realization is that boys in their late 20s have come up with a new form of booty-calling. i mean, i think i was pretty great at handling a booty call; i always said no. it was easier when we were younger, and a booty call was obvious. boys called after a night at the bar or at a party, and i simply ignored their calls. now, however, boys are a little trickier or maybe a little more classy, or potentially, they're a little more needy. Because boys these days, don't just booty-call; they bootate. this is a combo word--a combination of booty call and date (yes, it's casually lamo, so if there's a better name for this new move, please offer suggestions). here's the deal. boys call, invite us to dinner, and then expect to stay over or at least come in for a little bit. it might not always be dinner...it could be lunch or a rockies game or happy hour or a movie or a walk in the park or even a weekend in the mountains. the tricky part is that in every way, the outings look and feel like dates, and they happen repeatedly. so myself and my friends seem to get wrapped up in the dating aspect while the boys are just wrapped up in having someone for the day/evening/weekend and the whole night. the question is...why do late-twenty something boys need the date at all? can they really just be thinking of the booty? i mean, they spend the time getting to know us, and they even spend the money to take us on fake dates...they invest, and yet can't commit. are the fake dates just a way to justify the booty call? are the fake dates a way to satisfy their emotional needs without having to commit to a real relationship? potentially, boys in their late twenties feel that the repeated bootate is less complicated than an actual relationship. unfortunately, i'm not sure if the same rings true for the girls on the bootate. girls, myself and friends included, seem to view the repeated bootates as more confusing and thus more complicated than an actual relationship. and i think for that reason, boys and their bootates are selfish.
final thought: i think it would be helpful if, when boys asked us out, they let us know, up front, if it's a date or a bootate. this way, there is no confusion, and we get to decide if we want to ignore or accept the call.

love is real, 2.

we all deserve a little love story.

love is real.

It's funny how sometimes things actually work out. When we're least expecting it, a fairy tale happens directly in the middle of our ordinary lives, and whether we're the actual princess or maybe just the maid of honor, the fairy tale reminds us all that love is real.
I have a friend who, back in high school, dated a very cute boy. But like most young very cute boys, he was flighty, noncommittal, and kind of an asshole. Shortly before they walked across the stage to receive their diplomas, he walked away from my friend, and the two year relationship they shared. The thing is, it was high school; a lot of dumb things happen in high school with relationships and boys and the birds and the bees, but most of us, by our twenties, have long forgotten those high school sagas. Or at least we only laugh about them now. But my friend, she never stopped loving her high school boyfriend, and in her heart, she just knew that one day they'd be together again. Mind you, the broken couple, separated five years ago and have not spoken to each other since (sans a few drunk texts or light emails here and there). Most of us would roll our eyes at her "hanging on" behaviors or at least tune her out when she talked about his texts, sexts, or facebook messages. But the thing is, she is not a dumb girl.
Over the past few years, I have come to the conclusion that us girls, we always know what's going on with our boys. We might not want to believe it, and we might make dumb choices, but in our hearts and our minds, we know what's going on. We know if he doesn't really like us, or if he's cheating on us, or if he's hiding something. Point blank, we know if the relationship is not going to work out. So we fret and complain and whine and hope we're wrong, but we're never actually wrong. Boys aren't cruel (or smart) enough to pull the wool over our eyes, but sometimes we're brutal enough to pull the wool over our own.
The odd thing is, my friend had the perfect intuition; it was just not the typical. While most of us believe that the relationship is going no where or that he's an asshole, my friend always believed that they were suppose to be together. And, the other day, he confirmed her intuition. He called her; she answered, and after years of not speaking, he told her he was ready to be her boyfriend. He did everything he needed to convince her that now he was ready to be with just her and to work everything out. He explained that he'd been thinking about her daily for years but never called because he wasn't sure if he would hurt her again. He told her that she mattered; he told her he was sorry; he told her he wanted her. And all she had to reply was, "I know."

a hairy tale.

it's truly amazing: the details of dates that we don't actually disclose until we know the situation is going no where.
so here it is.
i met a guy on an airplane. it seemed like a totally cute meet...two people, relatively the same age, laughing and talking for hours on a plane. we dove into conversation about everything. it was fun and emotional and intimate. i mean, we were practically on each other's laps for 2 hours. and when we landed and exited said plane, we said goodbye. But then, he turned back, called my name, asked for my number. i agreed. i mean, who wouldn't. the idea of meeting a guy on an airplane is amazing...sure, he wasn't that cute, but the conversation was good, and he seemed relatively safe but at the same time fun. and let's face it, at this point, i craved a perfect combination of fun and safe. so i gave it up; my number that is, and much to my surprise, he called.
airplane and i went out for dinner and then drinks afterwards. halfway through the date, he asked if i would say yes to a second date. again, i agreed, and again, i mean, why not. he was still safe and still fun, and the conversation was amazing.
we didn't talk for a few days, and when we did, i knew it was over.
so here it is: the weird detail that i wouldn't disclose until i knew we would never go on that second date.
when airplane dropped me off, he walked me to the door. earlier in the night, i had looked frantically for a rubber band, and he had told me to stop. that my hair looked fine. i replied, that my hair was longer than normal, and it was such a hot night that it was driving me crazy; i just needed to put it up. he said, a little forcefully, to leave it because it already looked perfect. as we reached my door, he leaned in for a kiss; i reciprocated. it was kind of an amazing kiss: a rebound, a breath of fresh air, a cute meet that actually led to a fun date which ended with a kiss at my front door. and then, he leaned in and whispered into my ear, i don't think you should cut your hair. i asked why (mind you, this was casually mid-kiss), and he replied, "because then i can't play with it anymore. i love the idea of running my fingers through your hair forever. i love how soft and smooth it is, and how amazing it feels slipping through my fingers. it's so soft, i can't believe it."
that was when airplane became unsafe, casually awkward, and kind of creepy. he ruined my perfectly safe date and made it creepy and weird. he turned an end of the night innocent kiss into a full on fetish fantasy. i knew then that journeying into future dates with airplanes would really only lead to a hairy tale, not the fairy tale previously imagined during our cute meet.

California Roll: Take 2

I was suppose to meet Scooty for happy hour at 5:30. I kind of knew I needed to put an end to things. I mean, we had been on three dates, and although he was sweet and so nice and attentive to me, he didn't have the spice that I needed to continue. The conversation was often lacking...to the point that we resorted to talking about the weather, scooters, and cheese. (Did I ever even mention that for a living, he makes cheese?) But, when on a Friday, at noon, he texted me saying, "what time is too early for happy hour?!" My heart started to race; he had finally made a little funny, and I got super excited. Maybe he had just been shy and uneasy with dating. Maybe, just maybe, he was a little more spicy than the California Roll after all. I agreed to meet him and made a silent stipulation with myself: if happy hour was as spice-lacking as the rest of the dates, I would end it. I mean, we hadn't even kissed yet, so I figured a nice, "it's been great getting to know you as a friend" type closure would be a perfect ending to this little scooty situation.
However, Scooty threw me for another loop when I asked to meet a little earlier. He texted back, "I can meet you at 5, if you can handle my Hawaiian shirt." And I loved it. I thought he was making another little joke, so I texted back, "Of course, I can handle your Hawaiian shirt! In fact, I'll top it with my Hawaiian swimsuit."
And then, he called. I mean, he couldn't even handle a little mild salsa spiced texting. When he called, he proceeded to tell me that the reason he had to wear a Hawaiian shirt to happy hour was because he no longer had time to return home and change before meeting me. The reason why he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt in the first place was because it was how he got a little crazy at work on Fridays.
I proceeded to tell him, I couldn't meet him for happy hour. I couldn't meet him ever. The thing about people is that we either have spice or we don't; the recipes that are our souls, can't be added to or modified. They've already been made and baked to create who we are. Nice, sweet, and quiet, just doesn't pair well with spicy, silly, and dramatic.

best. dates. ever.

i think, sometimes, the best dates aren't romantic at all. they are the dinner and drink dates with two best friends who make you laugh till you cry, and a day spent with your sister drinking oberon in the sunshine.

awkward.

Him: Do you want to ride on my scooter?
Me: Um, not really.
Him: Why, are you opposed to scooters or something?
Me: I mean, I'm wearing a dress.
Him: Oh right. I see. I bet you never wear shorts.
Me: Well sometimes I do, I guess.
Him: No. I bet you only wear shorts when you're working out. Am I right? Tell me I'm right.
Me: I don't want to talk about this anymore.
Him: Because I'm right? I mean, just admit it; I'm right.

empty bowl.

after the first few minutes in scooty's house, i immediately took note of two things. First, there was an overall complete lack of conversation. he literally had nothing to say, and i had run out of my own material somewhere in the middle of date number 2. Second, he had pictures of himself, solo, framed around the house. At first, I jumped to the conclusion that he was vain; however, after a few more moments of silence, I had the time to realize that he has no friends to take pictures with.
he cooked a delicious dinner. as we ate, listening mostly to the sounds of us chewing, scooty suggested a walk to a close by ice cream parlor. it was then that i realized scooty loves the silence between us. i want to run away and hide from it, but he's perfectly comfortable with quiet contemplation and silence. the thought of walking a few blocks for ice cream and drawing out the silence seemed like the worst idea ever, and i don't even like ice cream. But, in true allison form, i smiled and said yes and secretly hoped for some sort of excitement to spark.
the short walk was actually 15 blocks, which, when wearing super cute sandals and walking in silence is not short at all. by the time we arrived at coldstone, i had entered into cranky-land. i was so bored and now tired and hot, and i dreaded the walk home.
however, things livened up when we arrived at the ice cream store, i ordered a typical dish of ice cream, size small. scooty, however, threw me and the guy working for a loop when he ordered an empty waffle bowl. I believe his exact words were, "can i get a plain waffle bowl please?"
and i was done. i laughed until i cried, and not really in a good way...more of a "wtf" or "fml" kind of way. and as i laughed, and scooty stared at me like i was crazy, i realized his ice cream choice is a metaphor for his life...he is the empty waffle bowl that he ordered. a nice, sweet, sturdy structure, and that is all.

sushi

sushi. literally, we had sushi. on a first date, he took me out for sushi. sushi is delicious, and it's trendy, and it's fun...when you're with a group of friends or family. but it's very unfun on a first date. the thing about sushi is that it is big and messy and gooey and complicated. it's like a food metaphor for a bad relationship...complicated, overly talked about, falls apart easily, and already broken. so when scooty suggested sushi, i casually died. the thought of struggling to cram huge pieces of rice into my mouth and worrying about spilling on my dress, looking like a fool, mispronouncing names of the rolls, and getting food stuck in my teeth, was unappealing and stressful. to put it simply, sushi is a huge commitment and obstacle to climb over on the first date. it seals two people into a "we're okay being awkward together" bound, which is moving way too fast for me. i just can't commit on that level...but i also have a really hard time saying no, so i just smiled and ordered the rolls i wanted and laughed fakely at the weather and told stories about being a teacher. by the time our food arrived, i was over worrying about looking stupid. i could tell scooty wouldn't care...he was the type of guy i could ask out right if there was anything in my teeth and probably pick it out in front of him. in all honesty, the spicest part of the evening was the california roll, and although it wasn't a bad date or a bad evening, no spice is just not allison.

Red Flags

Two Clear Red Flags:

He buys condoms in bulk. (I mean multiple economy sized boxes stacked in the bathroom.)

He dressed as Trojan Man for Halloween.

futuristic

Today, I went on a first date. It's the first, first date I've been on in 10 months. (No, I haven't been in a dry spell...just preoccupied). The amazing thing about going on a date with someone is that a date leads to thinking about the future. Of course, I don't mean marriage or children or mortages...I mean, have you met me?! But in reality, a first date makes you think about a second date and a second date makes you think about a text or a phone call and a third date makes you think about whether or not your friends will like him. Personally, I think about all of these things, but I also begin to think about whether I should trust him. Whether he'll end up hurting me. Whether or not I should let my guard down. But this time, as we sat talking about random first date topics, I wondered if he is someone I will hurt, and how he'll deal with that. I wondered to myself how he would feel if he lets his guard down and gets too close. I wondered if he will want me to meet his friends, and if so, will they one day hate me for leaving him behind. It's sad how others' careless actions can have such a huge effect on us, on our hearts. Or maybe it's important because I've learned that I never want to ever be the reason why people question themselves or their bodies or their hopes or their dreams. I don't know what the future will hold for me and my first date, but I do think these thoughts mean that I've learned to care again, and I really like the idea of caring.

sweat pants

my friend and i once talked about how all of us want mr. big (yup--i'm referencing the most cliche dating show of our generation). we want that crazy, noncommittal guy to commit, so we try or we at least look for him. the sexy, successful, romance-you-while he's in town man. and as we're doing it, or at least while i am, we get swept away. we know it's dumb. we know he's in control. and we know it's going no where. the thing is, my friend that i was chatting to mentioned, during the same conversation, that she had found her steve. and although that makes her the miranda (and let's be honest, no one ever wants to be miranda), she's happy. she's unstressed. and she's secure.
i was never secure, not ever with phoenix. i think, in ten months, i wore sweat pants one time. one time? in 10 months? and i am a sweat pants girl. i also started smoking cigarettes to deal with the stress of the back and forth and the ups and downs. and the confusion. because when you're casually dating someone for 10 months, it is confusing. and when he's gone or when he's here and didn't call or didn't text or didn't ask what i was doing, i became confused. but you can't tell big you're confused. he'll think you care too much or are becoming too attached or want more than what his job or heart will allow him to give.
and so i, personally, ate my confusion and my attachments. i hid that, sometimes, he hurt my feelings, and sometimes, he made me feel like i didn't matter. for 10 months, i allowed myself to believe that it was okay to feel like i didn't matter. i allowed myself to believe that the time i spent with my big was worth the pain of feeling unimportant during other times.
what i've realized is that steve may be short, and not cute, and casually unsuccessful or at least not passionate about his work, but he would make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world all the time. He would love me, even in sweat pants.

living.

i'm not really a dumb girl. but this time, this time, i was dumb. the bad part is that everyone, including me, knew that i was dumb.
one time, jack johnson sang to me, "you don't always have to hold your head higher than your heart." i think i'll blame my latest romance saga on him. because i didn't hold my head higher than my heart. i dove, heart first, into phoenix every time i saw him, and every time i thought of him.
honestly, it's over. this time, it's over for real. and now, my heart hurts. the whole time, my mind told me to stop, to get out, to look into the future and realize it was going no where. but isn't that life? isn't that love? isn't that what makes us get up in the morning...the feeling of diving in, heart-first?
as i lay, in my pit of despair, i still don't regret any of it, because if i'm not diving in, then what am i doing? observing, sitting back, watching the world go by? my heart hurts, and there's noting i can do to make it feel better, but sometimes, maybe, the pain of the ending is worth all that happened before. at least i know i'm alive, and at least i know i'm living.

crazy love.

it made things easier for me when you became a little crazy and you called and you texted and you emailed even though i asked you not to.

and it's crazy too that every time your number lights up on my phone, i still smile awkwardly, and maybe, sometimes, i giggle shyly as though it is the first night we met.

clear waters.

I've found that a substantial portion of our days are spent worrying about the first date. And maybe the second date. And maybe the third through twentieth too. And then, suddenly, the worry and stress disappear, and with it, the pedestal. I have a friend who has been dating her boyfriend for about four months. In that time, they celebrated Valentine's Day, a birthday, an anniversary, and have traveled away for a weekend together. For the first 121 days, it was fun and romantic and silly, but then, on that 122nd day, he fell off the pedestal...and, maybe, she did too. Because, when we're first dating someone, we have the privilege of LOVE GOGGLES. The goggles shield us from the bad, the gross, the grimy, the unattractive; they allow us to dive. And so, dive we do--head first into bliss. Inevitably, however, the water becomes murkier (or perhaps it finally becomes clear), and we see, for the first time, someone who drinks a little too much, or sends texts that are a little too silly, or is a little to shmoozy, or maybe even leaves a few too many skid marks. For my friend, when her goggles came off, she found herself looking at someone who, as he held her face in his hands, said, "did you use to have a uni brow?" I think it's maybe safe to say that her goggles weren't politely or even slyly removed. Her amazing new boyfriend casually picked up a hammer and shattered them. It was then that she realized she is not casually dating a new boy; it's perfectly clear she has a real boyfriend who likes her a lot. Perfectly Clear because he loves to look at her and notice all of her...even her beautiful flaws.

winter contrast

i always hate winter most
you can't smell hamburgers
on the grill
or drink oberon on the porch
laughing softly with friends
or listen to bluegrass while
swaying at outdoor amplitheaters
or walk barefoot through the grass
feeling its softness against your skin
or feel the july sun
making you warm all the time
and instead, you awake
thirty minutes early to scrape
inches of ice coating the windshield
and shiver violently
against the coldness
and watch the world pass by
as you gaze out your window
stuck and immobile
But in the winter, you can
go to the mountains with a friend who
invited you when you didn't expect it
and he'll make you warm,
for a little bit
late at night
when you allow yourself to feel loved

sitting in it.

Why is it that when things end and we say goodbye, it's never really over? There's no magical switch to tell our hearts and minds and even bodies to turn off and turn away. There's no way to just let it end and be done. Relationships, whether platonic or romantic, heavy or light, dramatic or uneventful, are a part of us for a long time. Even when it should be over and ending words are exchanged, all the feelings stay--they stay and we sit with them, because that's all there is to do.

I have two friends who have dated for years. They've shared vacations, hobbies, friends, a dog, an apartment, and even a trip around the world, but lately, sharing seems to be difficult. There's tension and obvious unhappiness--everyone sees it. I think even they see it. Yet, they go on. He tried to end it once, but it didn't take. I think that sometimes, sitting with the ending is harder than struggling through a relationship that no longer makes you happy. And that is the odd part. As adults, we understand the concepts of long term happiness and measurable success. Our professional careers, financial stability, and big decisions depend on commitment, logical thought, and intensive planning. So why is it that when it comes to love or even casual dating, we throw caution to the wind and act out of impulse, desire, and sometimes even fear. We see things going in the wrong direction; we're not dumb--we can see the warning labels and the dead ends--it just never occurs to us to use logical, rational thought when it comes to relationships. Take my friends for example. Recently, they traveled abroad, but while traveling, their relationship was so strained and forced that they ended their adventure earlier than originally planned. I think, at one point, I heard him say, "things got so bad in France that we had to come back to the District." About a week after returning to the states, they began dating again. The thing is, my friends are financial analysts. They spend their days looking at and measuring solid data. When their numbers dip in the wrong direction, they devise strategies and prepare, in advance, for future failures...so, why, when it comes to their failing relationship, do they not prepare for a solid future? They continue on the same crooked and distorted path with shadow of doubts looming every where. And in truth, the saddest story isn't really about what happens when we break up, the sadder story is about what happens when we don't.

jacob

today, in a book conference with one of my 8th grade students, we discussed the differences between edward's love and jacob's love. (for all of you non-tweens, we were discussing the twilight saga). i have always been on team edward. i have loved the bella-edward love story since day one. but my twelve year old companion, put up a great argument for jacob...and for this i love my job. she explained to me that yes, edward did love bella, but really, bella loved edward more than life itself. she would do anything just to catch a glimpse of him--she risked death, her family, her home, all in the name of loving edward. and he appreciated her, but at the end of the day, he left her when she needed him most, and he needed her to change. jacob, on the other hand, was a part of her world every day. he never asked her to sacrifice anything. he was there, like a rock. he was there as her friend, as her protector, as a member of her family, all the time. he never left her, even when she didn't give him everything he needed. he loved her in her current state, and never asked her to change into anything new for him.
and that conversation casually changed my life. i looked at my student and i told her she was right. that as she grew up, she needed to look for a jacob black. and she needed to appreciate him and love him and allow him to love her just the way she was.
i've spent my days chasing my edward cullen. the truth is, i've already had my jacob black, and i let him slip away. in real life, our jacob blacks are never as cute as our edwards, and they usually don't have his amazing abs, but they'll love us forever, just as we are. and that is amazing.

the casa.

I didn't plan on winning the bet. In fact, I planned on losing--my life so far has assured me little but non-winning situations, so when I casually suggested the wager: a night at Casa Bonita, I never expected to collect. And naturally, when my college football team scored the winning field goal in overtime, I jumped for joy--not just because I won, and not just for my much anticipated and awaited trip to Casa Bonita, but because winning the bet meant another date with Phoenix.

I like spending time with Phoenix. It feels comfortable and easy; he can not only handle my silliness, but he matches it with silliness of his own. I like that there is someone new to hang out with that allows all the seriousness of life to drift away and replace it with nothing but fun.

I am, after all, a professional in my late twenties who usually works too hard, stresses over thin paychecks, and consistently drowns in work, family, and life expectations. In the past, my relationships have mimicked the seriousness of my life--commitment, long-term talks, acting out of obligation, more realism than passion. Not to mention, that I am officially single for the first time in years.

With Phoenix, I'm allowed to just play. No strings, no deep talk, no missing each other when we're apart just laughter and playtime. And for a girl whose been running from her past love affairs, the situation is perfectly perfect.

And so, at Casa Bonita, we played. We played ice ball (a cheap version of skeeball), drank margaritas, watched cliff divers, ran through mock caves and pirates coves, won pirate rings, and rocked out to DDR. The truth is, that night, I laughed until my face hurt. And that's amazing...to have one night of pure joy, tangible fun, measurable happiness is sacred.

coffee with cream

after 7 months, i need you to know that i hate sugar in my coffee.