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.