Not For The Faint Of Fart. Heart! I Meant Heart!

So Smith is too busy to read here anymore, or at least I assume he is, seeing as he's off training and whatnot and is too busy to call or email. Not that that should matter because we're on a break right? Or should we be? (Except, I think maybe we're broken up. Right?) I'm lost. Anyone else?

(By the way, if you don't watch the tv show Lost, may I take a moment to suggest you get yourself caught up before the new season starts next year? Yeah. You should. Awesome.)

OK, disjointed post anyone?

Anyway, since I'm guessing Smith's not finding much leisure time to access this site anymore I feel free to regale you with stories that involve his butt. Also, to post photos of said butt.



OK, so maybe not as much of a butt-shot as some of you might have been hoping for, but still. Allow me to point out that it's the most appropriate photo I have for the story I'm about to share. Plus, I promised I'd show you the photos of him enthralled with the "coolest slug ever". So, there you go.

The photo also includes a glimpse of one of my "awesome" tarps. Did I mention how in love with my tarps Smith was? He was very much so. Apparently I bought the best tarps ever. I'm just cool that way I guess.

Anyhoo...

When Smith was here visiting a few weeks ago, we did some camping. Now, as a rule, I insist that at least one night of camping involves nothing but junk food. So, after a meal of Kraft Dinner, Corona, strawberries ( they snuck in there somehow), pistachios and sour cream and onion chips, we sat around the campfire and discussed big things. Like, what the heck were we going to do about the fact that we don't live in the same town and may never be able to do so. It was with rather heavy hearts we decided to call it a night when Smith reached his "tired point".

Smith, you see, gets tired and that's it. He gets tired and he needs to go to bed. He falls asleep and that's the end of it. ( Sometimes this is enough to make me want to tie his shoelaces together. I am jealous of those who sleep well, especially when I'm not. ) I didn't expect much conversation from Mister Sleepy-who-was-four-hours-ahead-in-terms-of-time-zones once we'd cleaned up and bedded down for the night. I was surprised, therefore, to hear Smith say "Uh oh", not long after we'd piled under the covers.

"Uh oh what?" I said, turning to him, wondering if he'd forgotten to lock the car or something thereby needing one of us to venture out into the cold. He looked at me and said, rather solemnly,

" I farted."


"And it's a bad one."

(Now, Smith knows, as do all my friends and acquaintances, that I grew up in a house where you do not say the F word. We know sometimes people do this f-a-r-t-i-n-g but we do not refer to it as such and we do not laugh about it or talk about it or do it on purpose. As I've said before, I am a delicate creature, or, at least, I was raised to be so. And, well, tooting in front of people is something I do my best to avoid.)

So I, of course, burst out laughing and did my best 5 year old boy impression "Ewww, SMITH! EWWW. That's disgusting, don't say that, how could you say that? Ewwww gross!"

Smith looked at me.

"No, really. It's really bad. Like, really." The wisdom of our dinner choices was suddenly called into question.

"Well, whatever you do, don't let it out" I declared, knowing full well the wisdom of containing a "stinky one" within the confines of its originating area.

"No" said Smith, " I have to let it out, I can smell it and I'm going to die. It has to equalize"

"Equalize?" I stared at him, my voice starting to rise in panic "What do you mean it has to equalize? No, it has to stay contained. Where it is!"

At which point, the insanity began.

You see, Smith decided not only to lift the covers, but to FAN THEM!

Yes. Fan them. INSIDE A TENT!

He said something about equalizing or equilibrium or dissipating and all I could think was "I do not want to smell Smith's smelly toot! This is not sexy! Also! I do not want to be stuck in a tent with a smelly toot!"

"Stop! Fanning! Fanning will make it worse! I don't want to smell it!" I shout, tears streaming down my face, my sides aching from laughing so hard.

"You don't smell it yet? You're so lucky?" he gasps, continuing to fan.

" No... I don't, and it's going to stay that way, I think I'm safe! Stop fanning already, it's friggin freezing!"

And then it happened. It hit me.

Let me tell you, if it had not been such a cold night, or had I been wearing more than my skivvies, I would have made my escape right then and willingly sacrificed myself to a quick death by the local cougar.

"Why Smith? Why did you fan?" I pleaded. "Why did you make me have to smell that? That's just so wrong! No! Oh Lord, save me, please!" I groaned, my pillow pressed tight against my face.

We lay there for a while, willing IT to go away and we debated the relative merits of "letting it sit safely on HIS side" v/s "the need for it to be let out and lessened" and I kept that pillow pressed against my face for a long long time, convulsing periodically in laughter.

Smith, eventually, fell asleep. ( Or, maybe he passed out, that's possible too)

I, however, did not. I was like a pre-teen girl at her first sleepover. Every few minutes, just when I thought I'd calmed down, I would burst into giggles again.

It was, in that moment, the funniest thing that had ever happened to me.

I'm kind of glad now that IT happened just then. It gave us something to laugh at. And, if you'd been there I think you would have laughed too. (Had you not passed out.) It gave us some adversity to survive together.

No, really. I have a brother. I know stinks. This was. Beyond. This could have taken down evil dictators in a single sniff. We survived it. Together.

Shudder.

So there. When they next go searching for WMDs? You can all point to the above picture.

Smith's bottom has the potential to cause uncontrollable laughter and cause widespread panic and destruction. All in one... smell swoop. Er. I meant fell.



PS. If you're wondering, I did, indeed, write this post before this one. It's the roller coaster you see. One minute waaaaaay up! The next minute? This.

Ok, Don't Be Mad

But. . .

I called Smith yesterday.

I know what I said, but I didn't follow through very well. I'm better, sometimes, at giving advice than heeding it.

It wasn't a bad phone call. I wasn't sobbing or yelling. I thought about it first. It just seemed like the right thing to do. For me. In that moment.

See, my friend C (yes, she who introduced us and who has another guy lined up, apparently) came over on Friday (which forced me to clean my place so it didn't look so much like Pink when he loses it) and we went downtown where she took me to (one of) her favourite ice cream place(s). We came home, ordered pizza, watched a silly movie and talked about Smith. (Not necessarily in that order)

When I told her I had deleted Smith's phone numbers, emails, etc but I really wanted to call him, C asked why I'd done that and pointed out that his number would appear on my phone bill when I told her I didn't know how to call him even if I wanted to.

And my brain said "huh".

It's not that she was encouraging me to call him or anything. I just felt relieved knowing I could.

And then I found the piece of paper I'd originally written Smith's number on, so long ago.

I recycled it.

And realized that if I went onto the web based account of my POP mail I'd still have a copy of the email Smith sent me last week.

Again, relief.

And then I fished his number out of the recycling.

And put it away.





Until yesterday, when I called C and told her I was going to call Smith.

"Well, ok. Um, why?" she asked.

"Because." I replied.

"Ok."

And that was that. No judging, no encouraging, just "ok." Just what you want to hear. Neutrally supportive.

So I called.

Shaking fingers and all.

I guess I'm glad I did. I asked him if he was sure, told him I knew it was a silly question and we talked for a while. Smith seemed surprised I'd deleted everything and asked me why I felt the need to make everything so black and white.

I didn't really have a clear answer, but said I was trying to move on or something.

We talked for a while before I had to go, and I guess I might feel better. In a way.

We're really still not together, but, in a way, that's not a huge change from what was and has been for a long time. It's just now that I know at least he'll call sometime, or email sometime and that's good. It's a relief. Maybe I'm not meant to go cold turkey with Smith. Maybe it's more of a weaning.

Or maybe this is just an intermission. Maybe someday I'll get to title a post "Mister and Mrs Smith".

Don't roll your eyes and shake your head at me. I like having a modicum of hope in my life. Life is nothing without it.

I'm doing the best I can. It might not be the wisest/healthiest/easiest of paths. I don't know if being in contact with Smith will make things better or worse or no different at all. It seems that unless some twist of fate puts him in this town we'll never be together; we'll never have a shot. Maybe hoping for that twist of fate is a bad idea. Maybe it's the best thing I'll ever do. Maybe it's the worst. Maybe a month from now I won't care. I don't know. I'm just trying to get through the day.

Without eating quite so much junk food.

Without falling to pieces.

Without things having to be completely black or white.

Just Decide

OK, here goes, rant time. You've been warned.

All I want is to get off the emotional roller-coaster I've put myself on.

And maybe you'll tell me that it really is that simple. Just. Get. Off. Just stop doing whatever it is that's putting you in that situation. And, yes, maybe it is that simple. Maybe I'm not letting it be.

So, here's your chance. Your chance to give me your collective wisdom and advice, because if there's one thing I can't do? It's give myself advice. I never listen to me. Even if I suspect I'm right.

Let me lay it out for you.

I've avoided talking about what's gone on with Smith and I for a few reasons.

One being that it's a bit of a downer and I try to avoid talking about it here, but as it turns out, I'm not talking about it anywhere and am just telling people "it's tough, but I'm fine" when, really, I'm not fine. Unless fine stands for Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional. Because, if that's the case? Then, hell yeah, I'm F.I.N.E. Damn straight.

Another reason is privacy. I got a carte blanche from Smith to say whatever I wanted about him or us, but I've still tried to keep him and myself as anonymous as possible. Also, once I start talking about what it is he does, it opens up a whole new set of questions I'm not sure I have any answers to and I'm not sure I want to talk about. But, avoiding talking about what he does, when it's one of our major issues isn't helping.

Finally, I'm not sure I have any idea what I'm talking about here. I really feel like I'm free-falling and,damn, it's a sucky feeling. Especially for someone like me whose life is built around the steady and predictable. I like control. I need it. I hate things that are out of my control. Um, hello, welcome to relationships. Especially this one. I know. I'm working on it, the control thing, but it's deeply rooted and it's not going to get fixed in an instant.

So. Let's back up a bit here.

About this time last year I told all my girlfriends I was ready to meet all their single men friends. Or, more realistically, I talked to my one girlfriend I knew actually knew single men in this coupl-ey town. C. told me about this cute guy who still had a girlfriend and another cute guy who was kind of overweight, and then she paused. "Oh!" She said, a glimmer in her eyes. "You should meet Smith."

Smith, it turned out, was one of her husband's best friends. In fact, they had all met on the same day. C. told me that Smith is totally hot and that if things didn't go well with her hubby she'd totally take Smith on as a second husband. "The only problem" she concluded "is that he lives in Montreal or something right now." So we put him on the back burner and went on with our lives.

Fast forward.

It's now summer and C. calls and tells me I *have* to come over to a barbecue at her parents' place. She insists I go, not just to hang out, but because "that hot guy Smith is going to be there". I ask her what he does and she says "oh, he used to steer Navy boats, but now he wants to fly jet fighters or something. But," she says "he's got a Masters, that's how he knows hubby. They were Science geeks together."

"OK." I say, "You're telling me he's hot and he's my age and he's single? What's wrong with him?"

C. goes on to tell me that he married a crazy French chick and they've since split up. No kids. Just a not very nice divorce. (Are they ever?)

So I go to the barbecue and I meet this Smith character. He's cute, definitely and I made a point of sitting down with him. Sure enough, he tells me that he was a Naval reserve officer and that he wants to be a pilot and that he lives in the Maritimes. I don't remember what else we talked about as I see people involved in the military as being "non-dateable." Plus, I'd already told myself I'd never do long distance again, and a two-hour drive this was not.

But he sticks in my head. Possibly something about him attracts me. Possibly C. not letting it drop. "He's coming to Victoria in December" she tells me "He told hubby to 'keep an eye on you' until he got back to town"

"Well, yeah," I said, "but isn't he in the Navy? I don't "do" Navy."

"Nope!" she says "He was just in the reserves. He's got his Masters, he's super smart! He's awesome. He's totally my back up husband. Plus," she giggles, "one of my friends *has* to sleep with Smith, just so I can find out what he's like in bed."

We laugh about it, but I do find myself thinking about this guy. (Great guy, going to move back to town). C. tells me every so often over the next few months that Smith has asked how I'm doing. I keep asking her when he's moving back to Victoria and she keeps saying she doesn't know.

Eventually, he comes to town for a weekend and C. has me over for a couple of drinks in the evening. I get all nervous and dress up all pretty and nothing much happens. I flirt (to the best of my abilities) and go away thinking about him even more.

Time passes.

And then there's the dinner party. Smith and I have been bugging C. and her hubby about each other, or so C. tells me. C. is determined that we meet up. And now her hubby's in on it too. He calls me telling me I HAVE to be at this dinner party. The dinner party that occurs the weekend after I've spent two days hanging out with the funniest co-worker ever. Co-worker with a girlfriend. Co-worker who makes me feel like maybe I'm not ready for a relationship after all. Co-worker I have to admit to myself that I'm interested in.

So, Smith and I have a non-eventful evening as two shy people trying to figure out how on earth to talk to each other. I leave that evening rolling my eyes at C. and telling her that guys are dumb and if they go out the next morning they should call my cell and I'd meet up with them.

C., matchmaker galore, gives my cell number to Smith and tells him that I want him to call me. He does. We go for a date. It lasts late into the evening. There is a connection. I find myself thinking "don't do it" and I ignore the thought. I let myself open up to the possibility of falling for this guy.

He leaves. For the other side of the country.

We start talking. Every day. We send emails to each other at work. All day. And then we talk all night.

I get confused. I start to feel like I'm falling for this guy.

And I start to want to slam on the breaks. This guy is in the military. He's going to be in the Air Force. Wait, he IS in the Air Force? What am I doing? I do not want to be a military wife. Ever. Ever. Ever.

Not only do I have my own personal thoughts about the Forces (and no, don't get into it with me here please) but I do not want to live a life that involves moving. And a husband who may go off for months at a time and possibly get killed. And moving. Anywhere. Whenever they say. Not living in this beautiful town. This town that I've chosen to live in. This town that I fought tooth and nail to get my job in. This town where my heart settled. I don't want to leave. It's my home. Military families move.

This is a deal-breaker for me, the military thing. It always has been, like smoking. I would never date a guy who smokes, and I would never be with a guy who was in the forces. The military. Whatever I'm supposed to call it. I just wouldn't.

Which begs the question; why do I even start?

I think can answer that for you.

C. didn't necessarily tell me he was a military guy. She told me he was a guy with his Masters who was just re-evaluating his life after an unhappy divorce. She told me he was coming back to Victoria. This is who I set him in my mind as.

When I first started getting to know Smith I avoided talking about what he actually did for the first little while. I told him very clearly that I could not date someone in the forces. He told me that he understood that and respected that.

And we just kept on going.

We kept on talking and romancing and I kept on feeling more and more panic settling quietly inside me. What was I doing? Why was I doing this? What the hell was I playing at?

But, damn it feels good when you're first connecting with someone. The day we first went out on a date, he told me that he was going to have to come back out to see me. Soon.

And he did.

And it was glorious.

We tried to talk about "the big picture" and I tried to explain that I wasn't one to up and move, that I wasn't willing to give up my life here in this town for anything, especially not the military life. And somewhere in those first few weeks I heard whispers of "maybe". Maybe he could become a spy like me. Maybe he could get his PhD. Maybe, maybe it'd all be worth it. Maybe I'd mean that much to him. I clung to these whispers as if they were the gospel. I BELIEVED, I hoped, I hung everything on them. If, if, if. If I was the woman of his dreams (like he once believed his ex-wife was) of course he'd quit the military and come to be with me. It'd be amazing. Could you imagine someone loving you that much?

I could.

And we didn't talk about it. We talked about the distance and the difficulty I had with the four hour time difference and we talked about how hard it would be for one of us to move for the other but damn, didn't we want that to happen? Wouldn't it be marvelous when we lived in the same city?

And I knew I was rushing. We talked early about big things. Marriage, future. And I told him I needed to back off, that we couldn't talk about these things, except maybe in whispers.

And we ignored the elephant in the room. Me not wanting to be a military wife. Him not wanting to give up his dream of being a military pilot.

His entire life, this is what he's wanted. And I care for him enough to tell him he has to go for it. That he must chase down this dream, knowing all the while that I'm shooting myself in the foot. Knowing that if I want this relationship, I need him out of the forces. I need him in this town.

Things start to get difficult. Stressful. My life heads into an icky spell. Work is tough, love life is confusing. I'm not sleeping.

Smith comes out to visit again.

It's hard.

We fight. A lot.

I don't know why. Is it because of that damn elephant? Is it because I'm stressed out and not sleeping? Is it because we're not a good match? Is it because he's in my space? Is it because for the first time in my life I have the guts to stand up for myself in a relationship? Is it because I'm not ready for a "real" relationship? What is it? I NEED to know. I need to find out. I need answers. Clarity. Something.

By the time Smith's visit is up, the good times have been outweighed by the bad. For me, it's glaring. Smith is more positive and feels that it's just bad timing and that I'm extra stressed out with work.

I see it as a sign. And I decide I can't take it anymore. I can't do miserable and fighting and I'm not happy.

I tell him I think I want to take a break, to sort through some things.

We finally talk about the elephant and it's made very clear for the first time. Maybe ever.

Smith is two weeks away from starting his training to be a Canadian Forces Pilot. Smith is hoping that if he gets some posting time near Victoria while he's on breaks from training we might grow into such a committed couple that I'll move with him. Be a military wife.

I am hoping that he will choose me over being a pilot. I'm hoping that he picks a career that plants him in Victoria permanently and we can see if we're a good couple when we live in the same damn town. I tell him that I can reconcile myself to marrying someone in the military if that person lives in Victoria with me. Forever. He tells me that he can not promise this. It's not a reality. I ask him to consider it. We start re-hashing old scenarios that I've clung to since the beginning. Could he not do something with the forces that are stationed here? Could he not train as a pilot and then join the Coast Guard, also stationed here? Could he not just be here. With me?

No. He can't promise that. It's not that simple. Plus, this is his dream. He wants to fly planes, not fighters, but planes that are not based in Victoria.

So.

We leave it as "let's see."

And my heart breaks into a bunch of little pieces and I watch him trying to figure out how he's supposed to help me through this.

And he flies away back to the maritimes, where he packs up his stuff and takes off to the training program in Manitoba.

Which is where we are now.

I can not, for the life of me, find any emotional stability. One minute I'm angry at him for wanting me to give up my life for him. The next minute I'm missing him terribly and just wanting him to be here to give me a hug. Before I know it I'm horrified that I ever considered marrying into the military lifestyle and the next minute he sends me the first email in the week since he got there and I'm high as a kite because I'm so happy to hear from him and isn't that a sign that we should be together?

It's awful. I can't be sad and move on because I'm not ready to give up. I can't be calm and in love because I don't want to end up moving out of my town and my comfort zone and my job. Smith is asking that I hold on 'til August. At that point there is a tiny possibility he won't have made it through his training selection at which point it's all off. I know in my heart he'll make it through, so that's not something I'm waiting for. He may also be able to get a posting out this way for a few months between training sessions. (Two years worth of training, by the way, to get your wings) In my mind, this would be the best option, he gets posted out here, we have a few months together to see if we're a good couple or if the fighting continues and we're not meant to be a long-term couple anyway.

But Smith's closed off. In some ways I can't expect any less, I pushed him away and told him I wanted to take a break. But in another way, he's told me he's doing it because he's determined to focus on his training and that's hard for me to hear.

We talked for the first time in a week tonight. I was so thrilled to hear from him, but I didn't know what to say. He's off in his own little world and I can hear it in his voice. He's not there for me and I can feel it. I don't know what to think. I've told him I want to wait til August to see what happens, but I don't know if I can do it if he's going to be so emotionally detached.

I asked him if he'd thought about things since he got there. We'd had a big talk before he left and I'd done nothing but think about things since then. He said "Honestly?" And I answered for him "You haven't."

Maybe that's my answer. He may have thought about me, but he didn't think about us. He says he can't. He says he has to be emotionally selfish and focus on his intense training.

Which leaves me wondering; how am I supposed to do this, long distance for two years, with this emotional distancing, this focus on training for two years, and knowing that at the end of it all I'm supposed to want to move across the country with him?

No. Can't.

But, my counter-argument to everything is that nothing's set in stone. Nothing is set. Maybe I'll decide I hate being a spy and want to become a gardener or librarian somewhere else in Canada. Maybe I'll decide that I'm up for an adventure. Maybe I'll decide I'm madly in love with the characters on Lost and I'm going to stalk them. Maybe he'll decide he doesn't want to be a pilot. Maybe he won't be selected past this round. Maybe he'll fall madly in love with me and move here. Who knows?

I sure don't.

But I need to be OK. I need to be doing better than just coping. I need to get off of this hideous mental and emotional roller coaster.

I'm not good at letting go. I'm not good at waiting and seeing. I'm not good at trusting and having faith. I want to know. I wish I could just decide.

Just decide to either move on and forget about Smith or to wait and see what happens, being happy while I wait.

That's my key. I just want to be happy. Content. At peace.

I thought taking a break would make me happy, I thought it would be a relief. It hasn't been. I've just been sad and lonely. Miserable. I find myself staring at the fridge when I'm supposed to be looking for my toothpaste. I've talked to this guy every day for nearly four months. How else am I supposed to feel?

I can't seem to win. With him I'm anxious and frustrated and scared. Without him I'm sad and miserable and low. Which would you choose? Neither? Yeah, me too.

I've distracted myself plenty for the last couple of weeks. And I've been so up and down I'm surprised I'm still functioning some days.

So. Advise me. Help me. You don't really know it all, but you know the basics of who we are and where we're at. Show me any glaring holes in my logic and listen to me as I argue illogically back at you. Give me some of that objective advice. Tell me to walk away, tell me to stay and believe in love. Tell me to go, tell me to stop. Just tell me. I'm so over flying high one minute and crashing the next. I need some stability. Some consistency.

I just need to decide and stick with it.

In or out.

As my Dad said to me once; "Shit or get off the pot."

Indeed.

But I'm paralysed you see. Fear-filled either way. Being with him is scary as hell, means things may happen I do not want to happen. Being without him is scary too. Lonely. Means being without someone I've grown to care about and have grown close to and have shared a lot of myself with. It means maybe making a mistake. It means having to start again. I don't know if I can.

Fix it, my darlings.

I'm not listening to anyone else's advice. Maybe I'll listen to yours.

Well, That Didn't Feel Nice

I told Jay about this blog, and he asked if he could read it.

I said, sure, but maybe just not right away.

I said that partially it was because I wanted him to get to know ME first, before he got to know this version/side of me.

And also partially because once he's read some of the stories here, I'll feel like I'm telling them to him twice.

But I also wanted him to know more about who I am, and my writing is a part of that, as is my photography, and well, they're both represented here.

So I sent him the link and then started reading through some of my archives to see what he'd be reading.

And my early stuff makes me laugh.

Which then makes me a little sad because I was lighter and freer way back in 2006, and how *did* I lose that?

(And, on a side note, I found a few typos and broken links that I feel like I should go back and fix, but soon. Let's just put that on the "to do" list for now.)

I fast forwarded through a few years to see what I'd written about Smith, the last significant relationship (Bird and Chad not really included in "significant") I've spoken about here, and reading through those thoughts really upset me.

Upset me because I'd forgotten how much I was hurting, and how sad I felt through most of our relationship, beyond the heady early days.

And then, upset me because I started to think... crap, what if I'm doing the same thing here... and my mind wandered off down that unhappy road for a while.

But then I stopped myself.

First off.  Jay is not Smith.

Not at all.  Not even close.

With Smith?  I never knew where I stood, or where we stood.  And with Jay, I know exactly where we both are, and were we are as an "us".

And although Jay and I may not have met yet, we're already really close.  And we've already talked through some problems and some worries and some things that are really healthy and adult and, well, what I'd always hoped for in a relationship.

But maybe even more than that?

I'm not the same anymore.

I'm not the same person I was when I met Smith.

And I have to remember that too.

And I have to remember to stop jumping ahead.  Or behind, I suppose.

Jay and I have a really good thing right now.

And the future will happen when it happens and we will figure that out and deal with that then.  Not now.

We've committed to getting to know each other, and to working through any initial awkwardness when we meet, and we've committed to figuring out, for good or bad, what to do once we do get to meet.

That was never a commitment I had or felt from Smith.

So, this is different.

But, still.  It's hard to look back on old posts and see where I was hopeful and tried to make something work that didn't.

And it's hard to want to protect myself from doing the same thing, possibly, again.

But that's not fair to me, or to Jay, or to anything, really.

Smith and I weren't meant to be, and I struggled to make it be.

I don't know yet if Jay and I are meant to be (but I think, and hope, and very often believe we are) but I'm not struggling.  It's just... good.  And simple.  And feels right.

Smith never felt right.  Or, I suppose "Smith and I together" never felt right.

Jay does.  And Jay and I do.

So no more comparisons.  Just what is.







Oh, and a mental note to myself?  Don't re-read the old posts about things and guys that didn't work out.  It'll just make you feel blue. 

The end.

The Missing*

I've been thinking, lately, about how my breakup with Smith (Dude, can I tell you how tired I am of talking about our "breakup"? I kind of hate that term and wish it would just disappear and that I could create a new term that didn't just make me sound pathetic. Because, we're not on a break, we tried that already, but since I'm not totally really completely moving on [yet] I hate calling it a breakup. Sigh.) Smith ended things and how I've felt so many different ways about it.

Most people are familiar with the stages of mourning or the grief cycle and I've been thinking about how what I've been going through fits perfectly into this model.

I think that I was in a denial phase for a really really long time. I think maybe while we were even still together I was trying to convince myself it was working better than it was and once things stopped going well at all I couldn't face it. I didn't want everything to be getting in the way of what I thought could be a good thing.

Somewhere in there a lot of bargaining took place. I kept on thinking of what I might be able to do to save the relationship. I started to consider things I didn't want to do and I started to try to force things to be different or to change, knowing all the while the more I forced it the less it worked.

And then the depression.

And anger.

And depression.

I'm not sure where I am right now. The stages aren't mutually exclusive and sometimes you cycle back and forth and in and out of them and there's no way of telling how different people will go through things or how different things will affect someone, so as you all reminded me, I'm not "supposed" to be anywhere, really.

I'm not sure I'm accepting that our relationship is over, so maybe I'm in some sort of bargaining stage again or something? I just know I've been missing Smith lately. The anger isn't as strong (seriously, it suddenly disappeared about two weeks ago and I can't figure out why) and I'm not feeling so blue anymore even though there's still a lot of sadness there.

I guess, right now, I'm feeling un-convinced that Smith is meant to be out of my life forever, but if he is, I believe that time will show me that and it'll be ok.

Maybe that's just denial in a different form.

It's certainly interesting to be able to look at it and see where I've been and what I've gone through. Blogs is good for that, eh?

I miss Smith and only time will tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing. The point is, it's a thing, and there's no point in trying to hurry that thing away.

My grief over what has gone on with the end of my relationship with Smith will run its course at its own rate. I'm going to try not to beat myself up over trying to be where I (or anyone else) think I "should" be.

"Be gentle with yourself" -Max Ehrmann

*A play on a beautiful song by the amazing Xavier Rudd, My Missing, the key words of which are "I miss you in my life" which is terrifically true for me. I miss Smith in my life and sometimes I think he feels the same way.

Making Peace With Things

When people write what sometimes later become clichés, they are often describing something that is common throughout the human experience. Something that transcends race or gender or age. And while I'm not particularly interested in discovering why a saying that has meaning loses its power through overuse, I am interested in the truth that I'm currently finding in the idea that "It is always darkest before dawn."

The past several months, for me, with regards to Smith, have been difficult ones; the past few weeks incredibly so.

And it's not as if our situation has changed, but I'm starting to make peace with things. I'm more able to let go of trying to control the situation. I'm calmer and more accepting of the fact that the universe knows what it's doing. I've come to understand that in trying to force the relationship I have made it untenable, even though that's not quite the right use of that word.

We've talked about our relationship, Smith and I, over and over and over. And while there isn't a resolution to be had, I feel now like I've been heard, and I feel like I'm listening to him. It's not easy, and I still can't tell you how things are going to end, or even if they ever are, but right now I'm ok.

Which brings me back to the thought I started with; things with relationships seem to get better for me only after they've been really really bad. It seems the more important the problem, the more invested and involved with it I am, the harder I have to crash through everything before it starts to feel better.

With Smith and I, it's like I had to get in the worst possible place, get right in there, be hurt and angry and disappointed and devastated and lost. I had to feel all those things, feel like there was no way out. Once I felt that, it freed me up to be clear and honest. Maybe it was the sense that I had nothing to lose; it made me look at everything in an unemotional way. It made me look clearly at what I was feeling and doing and I saw things that were fair and things that were unfair.

Somehow hitting my absolute bottom in this relationship let me see that I wasn't the only one who mattered, and in finding that, I found I was able to feel like I could let things go. Let go of what I wanted because it was hurting him. And that's not love.

Maybe for the first time ever, I've truly understood the meaning behind another well-used saying: If you love something, set it free.

When you really love someone, not selfishly, not because of what you want from them, but because you love who they are, you want them to find peace. I had really hoped that I'd bring that to Smith; and now I can. By understanding that he needs to be where he is and follow a path that doesn't appear to lead him to me, I can let him do that. And that's what I'm trying to do. It's not easy, but it's the right thing to do.

I'm making peace with things.

For now, at least. And I'm really hoping it lasts.

I'm not expecting Smith to come back to me, as the saying goes, but I'm not ruling it out either.

If it's meant to be, it will be. Until then, I need to let it go and just have faith in the knowledge that I'm doing the right thing. I know where my heart is. And I know where my heart will be until time, or a new love makes it otherwise. I can't force this relationship to go the way I'd most like it to and I can't force myself to stop loving Smith.

I'm not sure I've made myself entirely clear in this post. I guess I just wanted to say that although things have been really bad lately, it feels like they're getting better.... no, that's not it; it feels like I'm getting better.



And that's a relief.




Barn's burnt down. Now I can see the moon. - Masahide

It Was All A Bad Dream Spinning In Your Head

I've been having some pretty intense dreams lately, what with the wacky sleeps and all the emotions that fly around at this time of year and stuff.

The last few ones I've remembered have been about Smith. Or, at least, a Smith-like character. (You know how in dreams you know who the person is even if it's not quite them? Yeah. That.)

In the one last night the transport hover train he was in (with the Forces) crashed but he and this girl (kind of me) survived and had to walk through the forest away from it. And then we had to sneak into a hotel but when we did I became him and he became the girl and we couldn't find a room and the hotel was scary.

I know, it may not sound like much, but trust me, it was one of those hideous nightmares that you just want to be over even though at the time you don't know it's a dream. Actually, all of these have been that intense. And hard to break out of.

Around Christmas time I had a dream where Smith showed up unannounced at my house. Well, my awesome mansion actually! And he brought a litter of kittens and a bunch of girls who were all trying out for his show which was like a combo of evil-Bachelor and Next Top Model. The girls were all teenage versions of the nasty girls I went to highschool with and Smith had brought them on purpose knowing they'd be mean to me and dude, they were. All blonde and leggy and mean mean girls.

And then there was the weird one (as if the others weren't weird enough) where we were on a ship travelling through the Arctic (but the Arctic with trees, this beautiful place) and when we went outside so I could take some photos of the scenery, this massive rogue wave appeared and knocked us over and we barely made it back inside the ship and then the whole thing sunk.

Bad, bad, bad, they've all been bad. And to be frank, I'm a little tired of dreams that are less than restful.

I'm getting better at leaving them behind, but the ones with a Smith-esque person seem to stick with me longer than most. Good ol' subconscious eh?

I guess I hope he's ok, but my brain's sure as heck letting me know that it thinks being with Smith isn't a good thing for me.

I get it brain. Now how 'bout some happy dreams, kay?



Queensryche - Silent Lucidity

An Interview. Not with a Vampire.

So I thought that since I haven't told you much about Smith, I'd get him to tell you about him. Self.

Wha?

So, here we have a fairly accurate transcript of an interview I had with Smith this weekend. Because, yes... he is here right now on a visit. Which is very cool.

Victoria's Interview with That Guy Link Gravatron Smith The Invincible, Esq.

V: So, hi, Smith. Welcome to my blog.

S: Thank you. It's a pleasure to be here.

V: What can you tell us about yourself?

S: Well, I'm a fairly simple guy with fairly simple aspirations. I come from a nuclear family with three brothers. My father was a school teacher. My mother was a secretary. I grew up in the tiny fishing village of Saint Castille near the Galapagos Islands. (Editor's note: At this point he giggles and I start to believe he is no longer as near to the truth as he might be)

V: Alrighty then. Why don't you tell us what you look like. How would you describe yourself?

S: I'm a six foot one Caucasian male 170lbs (Ed's. note: It's like a personals ad!) with hazel eyes. I won't give you my hair colour because the nature of my work requires me to change it often (Me: He's going to try to convince you he's a super secret spy.. I can tell.) I like turbo engines, squashing bad guys and generally bad-ass spy stuff (Yup, there he goes)

V: OK, I'm not sure that last part has much to do with how you look, but it does bring up the obvious question, what do you do?

S: See above.

V: Is that a no comment?

S: No. See above!

V: So, you're saying you're a spy too? Like me?

S: I cannot deny or confirm that allegation.

V: Can I roll my eyes at you?

S: Yes.

V: OK. Moving on. What's something someone might not know about you just by looking?

S: That I'm a bad ass spy. No, wait. I didn't just say that. Let me get some growlies. I'll be right back. (Smith gets out of bed to grab some almonds. Why he calls them growlies is beyond me. Wait, did I just say he was in bed? I didn't mean that. I meant he got up from the interview chair. Yes, that's it. )

V: No seriously. What's something someone who just met you in the street would be surprised to know.

S: I'm bilingual.

V: Giggle. Are you talking dirty?

S: No, that would be bi-sexual.

V: Nooooo that's not what I meant! (giggles to self again)

V: Let's get back to business. So what do you think about the whole long distance thing?

S: Well, Victoria, (there is a long pause here, and some crunching of growlies) it's definitely... challenging. And not the kind of challenging you get from studying for a difficult math test. It's the kind of challenging where you're like "Damn. This is challenging." (Note: he's doing that thing again where I'm not sure if he's serious. He eats a few more almonds and then starts again.) The hard part is not getting to see each other and be there for each other. There's a whole lot of looking forward to the Someday and sometimes not enough looking at the present.

V: Like Christmas presents?

S: No. The here and now present.

V: I knew that. I was just being silly and cute.

S: Of course you were.

V: And, do you read this site? Is it weird reading about yourself in the third person?

S: No, I actually read about myself in the third person all the time. Although, it's not always on the news.

V: Are you being funny again?

S: I can not confirm or deny that allegation.

V: Sigh. (I consider rolling my eyes again)

V: Well, thanks, Smith. I can't think of anything else to say so, yep. Thanks. Give me a smooch now!

S: (insert almond flavoured smooching noises here)

Smith and Wesson

OK. So where did we leave off?

Besides this and this, I haven't really said anything about the Smith Situation (seems like an appropriate moniker, I've decided, unilaterally, just now.) since the end of May.

This may have led some of you to believe I was moving on and that the relationship was no longer a relationship in any incarnation.

This would have been an erroneous assumption.

Sorry.

I feel like I led you on. I just didn't really know what to say.

The past two months have been a bit of a waiting game for me. Smith and I really had nothing to go on in terms of what might happen or how we'd make it work until we knew how this initial course would go for him and what came next.

And, maybe I was embarrassed to admit that I wasn't moving on, that I was sitting around waiting to see if he might choose me or if something would change to bring him out here or what.

And I wanted to support him. The course was really tough for him in a lot of different ways and I wanted to try to put my fears and insecurities aside and try to be there for him and encourage him and maybe even help him through it somehow.

I felt that if we could just make it through the course, things would settle and clarify and we'd be able to take a look at where we stood. I figured that either:

1) He would continue with pilot training and hopefully get stationed in Victoria for a while during training breaks

or

2) He would continue with pilot training and we'd grow closer and when he got permanently somewhere I might take a leave from work and live somewhere else for half a year or so to see

or

3) He would not continue with pilot training and would come out here and do something else, maybe train to be a spy or go for his PhD, or be my pool boy *

I guess I didn't take the time to consider a fourth option. Most likely because it didn't come up in our conversations over the past few months. But, unfortunately for me, this fourth option is where we stand right now.

It does not currently sound like Smith is planning to come out here. He has reasons. Many. And he keeps reminding me of them whenever I try to talk to him about the possibility of him coming out.

I guess, somehow, somewhere, the elephant in the room changed. Or maybe there were two of those bastards (and goddamnit why won't my space key work consistently?) or maybe it's all just part of the same parcel.

Where it stands right now, it doesn't seem like either of us is willing to move somewhere just to give the relationship a go. I guess I was hoping he was, and it's looking like he's not.

I'm sure there's some way to not take that personally.

I'm sure there's some way to make us stop feeling like neither one of us thinks the other is "worth it" to move for.

I'm sure there's some way to make this all work out without any resentment or anger.

I'm just not sure what that is.

I mean, I guess it makes sense, right? If he's unsure what to do career-wise, shouldn't he get that sorted out first? Sure he should. I guess I would just really like it if he could figure out a career while living out here. Or, better, want to have a career here. Or, even, train for a career here. Or just work here. It's not like he doesn't already have skills and degrees; he's amazingly employable. (And good looking, with really nice eyes, and makes me laugh when I'm grumpy and is good to snuggle with and silly and kind and stuff.)

I really really want a chance to give a relationship with Smith a shot and I'm not sure how that's supposed to happen.

So while the final chapter in this relationship isn't quite completed, I'm bracing for the fact that it might be soon.

But I guess we'll see, right? Anything could happen, really. I suppose it's just back to waiting again.

And when I'm feeling calm and sensible, I tell myself that if Smith and I are meant to be together it will work out, it will be easy, and it will make sense.

When I'm not calm or sensible, I want to do whatever it takes to convince him to come out here so that we can try.

Why aren't I moving for him, you may ask, seeing as I tend to talk only about him coming out here? Well, right now he doesn't know what he's going to be doing. If he stays with the Forces he'll have to go into a different trade and that means training. Somewhere. And then posting. Somewhere. And that means I'd have to wait until he was settled and then give up my job to go where he is to see if things could work out. I guess that's just not very appealing to me, and I feel guilty about that.

And I feel guilty too, for wanting to convince Smith to just move here already because I know how badly that could turn out if he comes *just* for the relationship and it doesn't work.

Sigh.

So I'll try to be calm. Ish. And I'll try to believe that what's meant to be will be.

And when I'm having trouble believing? Well, I guess I'll just have to find something chocolate to eat.


You may want to buy stock in Mars bars or something.








*(I kid, I kid!)



I don't have a pool.

Out Of My Mind, Onto My Couch

I'm no better, as far as I can tell and am feeling rather like a Victorian lady, all weak and prone to spells and not really in possession of a working brain at all. It's terrible timing for work so I'll be back in tomorrow. Not sure that I'll be much use, but I don't have a whole lot of choice.

Or, at least, that's the way it feels.

It's times like these that I miss having a boyfriend; someone to cheer me up and call me and check to see how I'm doing. Someone to give me some sympathy and maybe even tuck me in and take care of me. Someone to baby me, I suppose.

Smith has been a touchy subject lately (speaking of not having a boyfriend), even around here. (I've received a couple of comments lately that suggested that it's time I "move on" and "get over" him. Which, you know, fair enough, but I'm going at my own pace here and doing the best I can.) Unfortunately, when I think about Smith these days my thoughts tend to be bitter and angry and that's just no fun to talk about.

I also keep in mind that Smith reads here occasionally and knowing that I'm aware of not turning this into a myspace type thing where the Exes post nasty things about each other for the whole interweb to see. So I try to let myself calm down before I post anything I think I might regret later. Hence, many deleted posts that never make it past draft stage.

But what was my point?

Right. It's in my low, quiet moments that I miss being in a relationship, and right now that feeling is generalized to Smith. (I've had the occasional odd moment of missing an Ex from two or three years ago, but that's probably just my psyche messing with me) I'll go through a whole day being beyond angry at Smith and then will be sitting reading, or watching a video and I'll suddenly want to call him and tell him I love him and can't we just work it out and be together?

Which is odd, because I no longer think that's a good idea and am maybe even starting to wonder about starting to date again. (But don't quote me on that, okay?)

Alas, I'm almost out of those special soft tissues and may have to get up the strength for a trip to London Drugs for more, but first I must shuffle my way to the bathroom to pee out all of the fluids I've been drinking because I'm a good girl and that's what you're supposed to do.

Hi. I'm sick. Sorry for the lack of cohesiveness.

Gravatron the Invincible Has Spoken

So I called up He Who Has Not Yet Been Named tonight and told him we needed to have a serious talk.

I think he was a little worried until I started babbling about how CUTE the name "Link" was and how HOT Brendan Fraser was in that movie and how everyone LIKED Link. (Cool Brendan Fraser fact: Apparently in any Pauly Shore movie he's in, he calls himself Link. Awesome, no?)

(Note to self: Always do research BEFORE trying to win argument. Knowing this coolness now does not help your case.)

He was pretty insistent that Link wasn't the name that was going to represent him for all eternity on the internet.

There was a lot of pouting.

I told him all your counter-arguments and still he said no. Finally I told him that, fine, he HAD to come up with his own, "better" name then since he was being such a big party-pooper meany pants and ruining all my fun. (I may have left that last part out though)

He asked if he could have the weekend and I said "NO! We've (the royal We?) already waited since LAST weekend and WE all wanted Link, so no."

There may have been more pouting. (Note: It would appear to be difficult to pout effectively over the phone, but apparently I can. I have mad skills.)

He said he'd be ok with "Gravatron the Invincible" and I said "HA! I'm telling them you said that!" And then I mumbled that that was too long to type anyway and could he not come up with something decent like we had.

He said since I'm not using his real name for anonymity's sake (does anonymity need a sake?) could he be "Smith" or something?

This seemed like something I could live with so after a bit more "puhleeeease"-ing, I said I'd compromise and take Smith.

After all, Mr Smith is a hottie. ( Twelve Monkeys anyone? Thelma and Louise? )

So, as soon as I can make myself sit down, I'll tell you everything you've ever wanted to know about Smith*

(AKA. Link Gravatron Smith The Invincible, Esq.)





*Or, I'll at least tell you something. Promise.





Unless,of course, I decide I don't like the name and decide to change it anyway.






This post took far too long to write.
I edited it a lot.
I need to sleep.

A Light Haunting

I keep seeing Smith this week.

First of all, I was emptying out a drawer looking for a specific item a couple of weeks ago and I found a CD. I wasn't sure what was on it, so I opened it up on my computer and found I'd kept all the early, romantic emails from Smith, and all the photos I'd ever taken of him, and us.

And it wasn't a nice feeling; seeing them and reading the couple of emails I opened. It made me miss what I thought we were going to have all over again.

But, I didn't linger long over the CD and I recycled it and moved on.

Until yesterday, when I was in the grocery store and the man in line in front of me struck up a conversation about chocolate with me. And, let me tell you, this guy could have been Smith.

Same look, same height, same hair, same way of talking and moving and all of it. Same.

It was weird, because I didn't realize it until mid-way through the conversation and when I did, I didn't quite know what to do with myself.

It made me want to run home and call him and get back together, because Smith had a certain charm about him, and this guy did too.

But, then again, don't they all?

I'm not sure why I keep running into Smith reminders lately, but maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it's a final purging before the Universe moves me on.

Or maybe it's a reminder.

I'm just not sure what of.

Sigh

So I've been having a bit of a rough time lately. The last month or so has been . . . well, 'confusing' is probably the closest I can come to putting a name on it. I'm not great at naming feelings, tending to find things either 'good' or 'bad'. And when things are feeling bad, I tend to hole up. Dig a figurative den for myself and try to hibernate. Usually this works well and my friends know that if I disappear for a week or so it's just me taking some time for myself.

They also know that after a week or two it's time to call me up and shake it out of me, whatever it is.

And that's what I'm trying to do right now. For you, my interweb friends. I'm trying to shake it out and shake it off.

Up until a few months ago, my life was relatively stress-simple. What I mean by that is that my stresses were limited to a few things, usually just work related stuff. The only time I had concerns about relationship stuff was when I was feeling sorry for myself and wishing I had someone to snuggle. Other than that, being single is fairly stress-free, emotionally.

Being involved? Not so simple. Because there's stuff involved in being involved. Thinking, wondering, emotions and feelings, ups, downs, in-betweens. Uncertainties, fears, hopes and all those things you thought you put away from your past that now show up again without actually being invited; oftentimes disguised as something else.

And all of this? Takes energy. Emotional energy. And my job? My work? It drains emotional energy. Super secret spy work is not all fun and games, my friends. It's a day in, day out kind of work that doesn't allow you to go home and leave work behind. You're always thinking about the next mission or the one that didn't go well or you're polishing your spy-gear and making sure you're caught up on the latest bio-warfare. And lots of nights lately haven't included the greatest of sleeps. Work's starting to talk about the possibility of re-structuring and of spies moving to different offices and I'd really just like to curl up for a few months if no one would mind.

And it's a busy time. Not a crazy busy crunch time, yet (OK, I have to pause for an aside here. I've got random music on in the background and I've just had two King Missile songs in a row and I'm feeling a heck of a lot cheerier. Go on.... download Sandbox and try not to smile.) but because it's not, I've taken on a bunch of extra things. I don't know why. Please don't ask. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

But I digress.

So, if we add on to the fact that work has me rather dazed and confused and sleepless, the fact that I've put myself in another long distance relationship, things start to seem a little overwhelming. And the kicker about this particular relationship is that someone's going to have to move. A long way. Which would seem ok, right? But keep in mind the fact that we've spent a grand total of 11 days in each other's company. How is someone supposed to move across the continent after 11 days with someone?

Well, they're not, obviously.

Ok. But. How is someone supposed to continue building a relationship where there is a four hour time difference and a flight costs hundreds and hundreds of dollars and both parties work? Plus? How is this relationship supposed to work when one of the perpetrators is kind of not good at being patient like everyone keeps telling her to be?

Which leads me to my confusion.

I'm not good at being patient and letting things happen and seeing where the flow will take me. Or, at least, I'm really not good at it when it comes to relationships. Really. Not. Good. But I'm also old enough and logical enough to know that neither of us knows the other well enough to pack it all up and move just to see what might happen. Sure, it'd be great if Smith'd do that, but realistically, his career is taking him elsewhere right now and I think he needs to follow that path. Especially since I can't make any promises and I'm not moving.

I just don't know. If he lived here, I still don't think I'd know. And that's good, right? I mean, I'm famous with my friends and loved ones for just rushing into a relationship without really knowing much about the guy and how we get along. When I think back on the fellows I could have married I'm happy things didn't work out in the end. So truthfully, I really don't know if Smith and I will end up together long term and that makes it very hard for me right now. I can not do a long term long distance relationship. It's not as if we started out locally and then he had to move for work. We started out far away. And it's hard. And it's too intense a lot of the time.

One of the things I struggle with is the large time difference. Four hours. That means that when I'm just home from work and settling from my day (you know, taking off the black cat suit and putting away the spy-gear) he's heading to bed. And by the time I feel relaxed and am wanting to pick up the phone and talk, it's 1 or 2 in the morning for him and he's already asleep. Most nights we end up talking between 6 and 8 my time which means he's heading to bed around midnight and getting 6 hours of sleep. And I'm feeling guilty about that. So I find myself either rushing to get home and ignoring the things I'd like to be doing so I can talk to him, or watching the clock to make sure I'm not keeping him up too late. Smith says I can call him anytime and that he takes naps during the day so we can talk later, but as someone who occasionally has sleep problems, I know how bad it can be to mess with your sleep schedule, so I'm not going to call him up at 2 AM just to say hi.

What I want more than anything is for him to live here. For him to have lived here since the beginning. I feel cheated out of a "real" courtship with dates and separate apartments and meeting friends and having time to ourselves. It was great when he was here last month; it was romantic and wonderful and intense but after it was all over I didn't feel what I thought I should. I didn't feel sure. I didn't feel like I knew all the answers. I just felt wary. And confused. And lost. And I wanted to pull away. From all of it. It was all too much with a sense of nothing behind it. It was honest and loving at the time, but almost meaningless once I was separated from it. I got back from my vacation and I had, literally, no recollection of our time together. My mind had somehow dissociated itself from everything I'd felt, as if it knew there wasn't enough background and time behind all the feelings to back it up. It was like my brain remembered all the times I'd rushed into a relationship without really knowing and didn't want me to do that this time. Which, again, perhaps is a healthy thing, but it hasn't felt great. And it was hard to turn around and have to tell Smith that.

To make things worse, I wasn't able to talk about it. Not with friends and especially not with Smith. The poor guy has had to deal with me clamming up and pulling back without being fully capable of telling him why. Without really even being fully conscious of what I was doing. Just knowing things felt wrong and I had to try to fix them. Sometimes I'm not sure why he's still around. (And then I remember that I'm awesome, and for just a moment it seems to make sense.)

Things still aren't great. I'm in a weird place, but I'm trying to move away from it. I'm trying to find a way to talk to Smith about it, and maybe babbling about it here means I'm closer to understanding what is going on in my brain right now. I hope so.

I know I haven't been around here much lately. There's not much worse than having a thousand things to say and sitting down to write them out and nothing comes. It makes it a hundred times worse. Emotional writers block I guess.

I don't know how to end this dis-jointed babble-filled post, so I'll just end it here: I hate feeling confused and I hate feeling stressed and overwhelmed. The only thing I hate more is change and I've got that going on right now too. It's been a bit of a month.

Know this much; I'm fine. I'm ok. I'm strong. But I'm not quite myself and I'm missing me.

So, for now, I'm going to head back to my den.

And I'm going to nibble on the chocolate Smith sent me in an Easter package.

Because he's just that good.

I'll try to be around a bit more, I promise. Until then, if you're jonesing for a read, take a look back through my archives. I love finding a blog and reading through the archives, so if you haven't already here, go for it. Start at the beginning; August was fun!




PS Sure wish I could reverse chronologize my archives. I hate opening August up and getting the 31st. That just seems... backwards.

PPS I'm not going to re-read this post right now, so advance apologies for editing that happens once you've already read it.


PPPS I think "chronologize" is an awesome word even if it's not really a "real" word. Reality is relative.

StupidStupidStupidStupidStupid

N.B. Whatever is going on with Smith and I is nothing if not fluid. As soon as I'm sure things are one way, we talk and things shift subtly. So, while this post was exactly what I was thinking and feeling a couple of nights ago, it's no longer quite where things are at. Really, right now, I'm inclined to delete this post, but on the other hand it's a valid representation of where I was just a breath ago and so I think I'll let it stand. Things aren't different, particularly, and nothing's "fixed", but I'm feeling better. I'm calm and I'm OK. For now. : ) Long story short, don't feel obliged to read this, kay? Kay! Or, read it, but don't be surprised if it deletes itself someday.

I'm going to stop banging my head against the wall long enough to write this post out and then I'm going back to it.

I figure it's about time I flagellate myself publicly over what an idiot I'm being with the whole Smith thing.

Because, really, could it be any clearer that this isn't going to work out? How many more times do I have to hear this guy say he just can't/won't/isn't going to come out here? How much longer am I going to sit here waiting for a decision to be finalized when it's already fairly obvious that it. has. been. made. already.

I think, most often, realizing you're doing something really stupid takes a while because there are so many other things that get in the way.

Like hope.

See, I'm at a place in my life right now where I want to settle down with The Right Guy. I want to have someone to travel with and hang out with and live in a tiny apartment so we can save up to buy a house with. I want to get engaged and look for a house and choose a dog together and get married and have a honeymoon and have deep discussions about having children and what does it all mean? I want to live my life with a great guy who is my best friend. Even when we fight. I want that. And I know they say "be careful what you wish for" and that a life with The Right Guy will probably not be what I'm expecting but I still want it. And while I've been seeing Smith (or whatever we're supposed to call the last six months of crap) I've imagined doing all these things. With him.

I think that whole 'what I want in my life' dream is why I'm having such a hard time just giving up and writing Smith off as just another relationship that didn't work. Oh, and could it maybe be compounded by the fact that I have no idea if this relationship actually works in person over time, that I have only 18 or 19 days of face time with this guy? Which, really, logically, should make it easier to end, right? Except it doesn't because I'm an idiot who sees the best in everyone and always waits for the happy ending to come. I want to believe that all the good things we've done together, all the things we've overcome and worked through actually mean something.

But, damn, I feel like a fool right now. I've spent the last few months holding up hope for this relationship all by myself. I've believed enough for the two of us. And to come to the "wait and see" expiration date to find out that I waited for something that didn't really exist anywhere but in my own mind is kicking my ass.

Doubly so because this is too damn close to what I did during my last significant relationship. When my charming (ha!) Ex (let's call him Drunk Dialer) left town for nine months, I told him I'd wait until he got back. We had had the most amazing start to our relationship, quite stunning, really, and I was willing to wait for him to come back. And I did. I even remember one night at a party turning down this beautiful guy because "I was kind of seeing someone". And then D.D. came back and within a month told me it wasn't going to work and he just "wasn't boyfriend material". Right. The old "it's not you, it's me" crap.

So now here I am again; I waited for a guy because I wanted the relationship to continue and now it's not going to. Turned down a couple of dates because "I'm kind of in a relationship". Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupider. Fool me once, and all that.

So if my anger at myself seems excessive to you, it's probably because there's more to it than just the past six months.

And, damn, I'm angry with myself. I can't begin to tell you how stupid it makes you feel to realize that you've been on a different page from the person you love for so long and all those excuses you made for why things didn't seem right were due, not to the fact that he was under stress, but to the fact that he doesn't want this the way you do. Or maybe, even, at all. Excusing behaviour that you wouldn't have put up with otherwise because you thought you were on the same page and he just needed (insert stupid womanly thought in here, like, space, or support, or time). So stupid.

Or can I tell you how angry it makes you feel to think back, or worse, look back on things that were said when you first met. To recall promises that were made and realize that they never meant anything because if they had you wouldn't be having this conversation with yourself. If he'd meant everything he'd said when you first started falling in love, he'd be making this work. It makes you sick to your stomach to think you believed him. To remember what you felt and what you hoped for based on those words that have turned out to be untrue. Lies, maybe. Fluff, definitely.

As if all the above isn't enough, I'm angrier still because I know I'm not walking away fast enough. Oh, sure, I'm maybe turning away, kind of backing away slowly but I'm still not completely done. I'm still waiting for that last scene, the one where he realizes he's wrong and comes back. The one where he realizes it's worth it all to be with me. The romantic one that makes everything I've gone through worthwhile.

And that pisses me off more than anything else.

StupidStupidStupidStupidStupid

Comic Relief

I promised myself when I started this here place that it wasn't going to be somewhere that I got all heavy or sad. Life gets like that and I don't want to put those vibes or energy or whatever it is out there. I like spreading the good stuff when I can.

All this means it's been hard for me lately to post. I'm blue right now and have an awful lot to sort through. Being blue means less funnies for me to share and sometimes that means not much to say here.

Ironically, I have some really funny stories from when Smith was here. Now that I feel like the dagger's no longer sticking directly into my heart (is more just stabbing through my ribs every so often in a gentle sort of stabby way) I thought maybe I could tell you some of the funnies.

I'm unsure whether or not I should get into it here. "It" being what's going/gone on with Smith and I. Part of me thinks it'd help, while part of me thinks it'd just be a drag for people to hear. We'll see.

For now, allow me to just draw your attention to the photo above.

See, as Smith and I were packing up our campsite, I noticed him bent over, dealing with something on the ground. I figured he was getting out a stubborn tent peg or something equally studly and manly. (Um, yes, I left the sticky ones for him.)

After realizing he'd been down there for three or four minutes, I did what any concerned girlfriend (OK, let's not use that word... um....) what any concerned person would do and grabbed my camera. (Those photos later, I promise)

He called me over, all excited.

"Victoria! You've GOT to take a picture of this guy! Seriously, he's so cool."

So, I went over, camera in hand, ready to get a photo of the amazing creature Smith was so enthralled by. I figured it was something beautiful and exotic, or maybe cute like a ladybug.

I should have known better.

At least it was a banana slug and not a banana phone*, right?



*Please. Don't Google "banana phone" I didn't link to it because I love you and I know you value your sanity. But, dude. If you DO Google it because you can't help it and you're kind of self-destructive that way? Well, then you should probably go here too. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Edited to add: Ok, somehow I managed to post this with comments off. Now y'all have to come back and comment.

Advice for the Broken-Hearted

Dear us,

When someone ends a relationship with you, it's going to hurt. What you want to do is try to make the length of the hurt shorter, if possible. While I can't help you with the crying, I can help you with an important part of moving on, the, um... uh "I Can't Think of a Title" part.

Here's what you need to do:

1. Delete his/her number from your cell, contact lists, phone, memory. If you've memorized it, un-memorize it. Now you can't phone your ex sobbing, begging, promising or threatening. If he/she made a mistake and wants you back? Well, they can call you. There's nothing worse than having an ex tell you to stop calling after they've already dumped you. Get rid of the phone numbers. (Smith's numbers are all long distance, so there's no way I remembered them. I can remember all but three digits of his home number, to be honest, but still, can't call him.)

2. Erase his/her email from your address book and databases. You do not need to email this person anymore. The relationship is over, they ended it, there's nothing more to be said. (This took me a while to figure out how to do in Mail, and I nearly threw up once I realized I could no longer contact Smith even if I wanted to. This is why you do these things fast, and hopefully while you're still in shock and a little angry.)

3. Get rid of any reminders of him/her. Throw out photographs, emails, gifts, PHOTOS, all of it. If you need to, put things in a box and give it to someone, but trust me, the sooner you get it out of your house, the sooner you can start moving on. (I've done this twice with Smith now. Once when I told him I wanted a break, and now again. I put all his emails and photos on a disk and it's in a cupboard somewhere. Means less chance of me running across things that hurt when I see them.)

And that's all I know. Everything's so individual. Maybe some of you like to get out and party it up. Maybe some of you like to stay home and watch sad movies, I don't know. Do what you need to do to remember that you're a good person and you do have people in your life who love you and that the asshole who just dumped you is going to regret it until the day they die. And hopefully they'll die sad and alone on that day while you're off living your fabulous life without them.

Good luck. Other fish in the sea and all that.

OK, now seriously:
I wrote this right after Smith broke things off. Now I'm not so sure. Really, most of the time I just try to do what seems like the right at the time. In this case, I'm just remembering my last breakup and the fact that I got over it eventually. I still think this is probably pretty good advice. It just doesn't make it feel better. That part's just going to take a while.