Unintentional Hiatus (what blog?)

Fuck yeah, internets! Been a while.

It's been a long chunk of months filled with depression, dating and death. Strangely enough, none of the 3 are related, which makes them all the more AWESOME!

So.

Depression. Like a genius, sometime around May 2011, I tried to work my way off of my medication and live a [prescription] substance-free life. I had left my terrible, demeaning, verbally abusive job (*cough* boss), had started a new, painless job with an office and a salary, and was in one of those "this is so perfect!" relationships. What did I have to lose?

My sanity, that's what. I can best equate it to PMS, around the clock. I was tired. I cried a lot. Over everything - broken nail, tear in my tights, screwed up my eye makeup, END OF THE WORLD. One day, I had to sit in the bathroom at work and compose myself because the paper cutter wouldn't cut straight. Spent weekends at Matt's, in bed, not fucking, but sleeping. And whining. No one likes that chick. He certainly didn't like that chick.

So, eff that. Back on the meds. Let's not try that again. Even the occasional feeling of numbness is better than the constant feeling of FUCK EVERYTHING.

Gradually, I have worked my way back into the real world. Working, adventuring, dating again.

Dating. Yeah, turns out, it was one of those"this wasn't so perfect because he didn't love me (as much as he loved me naked!)" relationships. And it's ok. We move on, like we do. And we try - sometimes we happen upon the worst dating decision we've ever made, and then sometimes, as we are losing hope, we happen upon sheer awesomeness in the form of something we never saw coming. And I'm going to stick around for this one.

So, Death. Fuck death. I lost 2 amazing people in 2011. My father passed away on Father's Day Morning (thanks, irony, that's really cute of you), and my uncle, who had been kicking cancer's ass for 3 years, passed away a little over one hour after my father's wake.

Before this turns all teary, I have to turn it around for a bit. My father was not good to himself. We all begged him for years to get his weight under control, for fear of, well, exactly what happened. We lost him 40 years before we should have because he just couldn't reverse years of damage. Moral of the story? Take care of your damn self. I assume I've got a good 55 or so years left in me. I would like to live those years. I don't want to leave my future family without a mother/sister/daughter/wife because I didn't take care of myself.

And don't get me wrong - I love to eat junk food, I'm terrible at pushing myself towards physical activities, and I have my fair share of bad habits that my doctor would not condone. But I try. In the end, I look at what happened to my family over the past few years, and I am able to say, "No Fucking Thanks."

My job is enough to keep me afloat, and I have amazing friends and family to keep me going.

Optimism is hard, but it is there.

Dating

For the first time in my life, I have been. Have I met some great people? Yes. Have I had fun? Yes. Do I particularly enjoy it? No.

I have never, in my entire life, had to "play the field." I've never had to search for romantic companionship. Somehow, I have always found decent guys and spend a good chunk of time with them. I've never had to work.

That being said, I had a conversation with Stephanie last night about the strange occurrence in which unattractive, selfish, terrible girls can find good guys willing to date them. Meanwhile, Stephanie and I are two attractive, nice, smart, funny girls who are sitting watching TV, eating ice cream in our fleece blankets on a Sunday night. I've known awful, unpleasant girls who have managed to get some of those great guys and string them along for months before the guy gets the balls to give up on it.

And, it happens. People want someone. Even jerks want companionship. The great guys will swear that there is some good in there, underneath all of that yuckiness. And I'm no image of perfection, either. I can be lazy. I don't always think before I speak. I expect a lot of the guys I date. I feel as though I am worth it.

Dating, for me, has been 50/50. I've "met" guys in all kinds of settings. I've been asked out by a guy who worked at Target. He pleased me with his straightforwardness, but overall he come on too strong, and I hadn't been single for long enough to seriously date anyone. I've danced with those random guys at clubs. I've made out with just-friends guy. I've been asked out by more than one just-friends guy. I've met multiple guys online, through eHarmony and OKCupid. I joined both as a result of nudges from friends who had success. How much can you really find out from a picture and a preconceived write-up?

In retrospect, I can't complain. I have had options. However, due to my past experiences, I am now pickier. I am fairly certain of what I am looking for. There are factors that I am willing to sway on, but I've been through too much to settle.

My very first date after getting out of a 4-year relationship was promising. We talked online and he seemed smart, witty, and really insightful. We met in Cambridge, where we wandered around and grabbed a beer. Smart and witty, he was. Insightful turned out to be just plain dull. His insights ranged from commenting on the women next to us and why they ordered the drinks they did, to the couple at the bar and why they ordered the drinks they did. The date ended early and amicably, which a gracious thank you and a good luck.

Speaking of promising, right before the new year, I met John. John was witty. Smart. Attractive. Tech-savvy. Charming. Caring. Relaxed. The guy I wanted to meet. For our first date, he came to Brighton. We had dinner. We laughed. I liked his face. He kissed me goodnight and I wanted him to kiss me more. On later dates, he kissed me when he left the room. He put his hand on that spot on my back. He rested his head on my lap while we talked about video games and watched TV on his silly iPhone. He was planning to come to the city for new years. Meet my friends. Sleep over. It was a plan. Until it wasn't. Until he felt sick and didn't want to travel. Until he stopped calling and stopped answering texts. People ask me what happened with him, and I just shrug.

Next, was one guy who was way too nice, one guy who was too young and too much of a jerk, and one who I could never date but do really enjoy sparring with.

In my head, there are others. Those who I toss around weekly, daily; who I see and I wonder; who I doubt I'll ever do anything about. They're the ones I don't put in writing, because once it's in writing it is real. In my head, they are protected, and I am protected.

So, I'm dating. I'm still dating. I'm still not particularly enjoying it. The not knowing. I'm not enjoying the not knowing. I miss the knowing. The constant. The security. It's in there, somewhere, and it wants out. And I keep telling it to shut the hell up and be patient.

Story of my life.