The Promise

The onset of October always leads me to thoughts of marriage. Fall is my favorite time of year, and I have always imagined my wedding in the Fall since I was old enough to think about it. 

Originally, i wanted to be married on my parents' farm in Kentucky surrounded by sunflowers at mid-afternoon, just before the sun begins to set and the bugs come out. 

When I was asked to marry one of my exes, the dream changed to a small wedding on the Centre Seal the first week of October. We wanted to be married by one of his favorite professors (he wasn't very religious) and then run around campus taking pictures of ourselves at all the places we loved and had memories together. 

Now I still have dreams of a wedding in the Fall... but I don't really care where it is or what I wear (I just want to feel pretty). I have eschewed the idea of elaborate plans, and a woman with as many law school loans as I have isn't keen on spending a lot of money on one day. I'd much rather save money on the day and plan a trip to Europe or New Zealand or some white beach with turquoise water. 

All I want at my wedding is love. I want my family to be there. Whomever my husband will be, I want his family to be there. What's important about the wedding is not the flowers or the rings or the dresses or the food (well, except maybe the cake... You know me and cake). 

It's the promise. It's knowing that you have found the person who will love you even when you are at your least loveable. Who will remember where you put your keys; kiss you even when you're sick and your breath tastes like it; and be more angry at you than they ever thought they could, but still hold the door, make your dinner, or toss a pillow to you when one of you is sleeping on the couch. 

I know that type of promise exists. I've seen it in my parents. I see it in my dad when he surprises my mom with wildflowers or a hostess banana flip from the convenience store. I see it in my mom when she always makes sure his favorite shirts are ironed and jokes about how he has a full closet but always wears the same three. 

When he watches Dancing with the Stars with her, and she constantly buys him containers and tubs to put his "papers" in and complains about the mess, but then confides in me about how lost she'd feel if she had to eat dinner without him or Bucky. 

I've seen it in the hard times--when they've supported Matthew and me through countless surgeries and procedures. When he's held her when she cried for us-- when I left for college, when I moved to France, and almost every time I take a plane from KY to DC. 

Through death and heart attacks and loud, cursing "discussions" and disagreements on money and time, they are always there. Their love for each other is always visible from the outside, even when they don't see it. 

Why? It's the promise. It hangs in the universe above them--the gift from God that they accepted by taking each other through this life. It binds their hearts and souls in ways that in the darkest times, still shine through in the way they look at each other. 

It proves that two individuals who are meant to be one can still be themselves, but come together and be a better version than apart. 

The strength of their promise is what gives me faith that unconditional  love between two human beings is real. That promises like theirs, when not made lightly, don't have to be broken. Rather, they can grow stronger with time and seal a bond that will last long past their earthly lifetimes. 

Dating-- a moratorium

Well, since my entry about the LDR, I can attest that there is in fact an end worse than the break up text. We will call it, "the tacit turnover," meaning that the person tells you absolutely nothing about the way they are feeling, despite you trying to probe for some answers during a phone conversation, which you now surmise was cut short so they could instigate said turnover. 

After informing you of nothing, they then proceed to delete you from their life without warning (and in my case, on my birthday) and publicly declare themselves in a relationship with a woman you've never heard mentioned before. 

So, the maneuver consists of a silent bait-and-switch. And then throwing the fish (me) back into the proverbial sea, half-gutted. 

That tacit turnover, ladies and gentlemen, marks the end of my dating life. 

No more. 

I am done. No more dating online, offline, long distance, short distance, or next door. 

I would rather live a generally happy single life than risk anymore unnecessary carnage at the hands of these loser heads I seem to attract, thank you very much. 

Yes, I've wanted my own  family more than anything on earth for as long as I could voice my wants... but I'm really starting to think that what I want is not worth all of the crazy I have to endure to find it... and all this endurance without even an inkling of assurance that I ever will meet my match. 

If he exists, he's going to have to find me. To the rest of the men in America, go sell your crazy somewhere else, we're all stocked up here. 

Birthdays. being alone, and burning holes into my flesh...

I'm turning 32 on Sunday.

I'll admit to you that by this time in my life I thought I'd be in a different spot.

If you'd asked me at 22 where I'd be at 32, I would have told you that I'd be married, settled, out of debt, and probably teaching French in some school system or running a small solo law practice.

Instead, I'm single, still in debt, a Masters student, living in one of the most expensive cities in the nation, childless, and I speak French about once a month.

Not at all the same.... not at all what I thought I'd want.... but better.

Since 22, I've completed law school, become licensed in 3 states,  lived alone in France, moved alone to a completely new city, and sought out my job, my living situation, and my church family all on my own.

I have survived 1 marriage proposal, two shattered hearts, and countless ego bruises.

I have fallen in love with my best friend, and watched the rejection from him become the absolute best thing for us both.

I have gone on about 50 first dates in the past 10 years, but only 4 second ones.

I have learned how to budget, ignored my budget, and cried and figured out how to pick myself up off the floor when there was nothing left to budget.

I have jumped from a plane, taken leaps of faith that have resulted in love, and a few that have resulted in heartache.

I have endured a job I hated, left a job I liked, and found a job I love.

I have gained friends, lost touch with some, and watched one lose her fight with cancer.

I have doubted my decision not to just stay in Kentucky.  I have had lonely nights and weepy weekends, and eaten entire tubs of icing because I was convinced that if I was going to die alone, I might as well be full of chocolate.

I have become more attached to a dog than I was ever aware one could be.

I have learned how to sing myself to sleep, take myself out to dinner, and celebrate small victories alone.

I have learned that there is nothing wrong with doing these things alone.

The past 10 years have taught me that the people who love me will remain in my life regardless of distance, or passage of time, and even on the days they don't particularly like me.

They have taught me the value of going out on dates with people who remind me why I like my life as it is.

They have taught me the value of anticipation-- the reward that's in the waiting.

Waiting for a job.  Waiting for the right kind of love.  Waiting for that moment when I'm sitting alone in the quiet of my apartment feeling completely content-- needing no one and nothing else.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment.  I guess you could say I have arrived.

32 is not what I thought it would be at 22.... and neither am I.

I am stronger, more confident, sure of my own worth absent any other opinions... and completely ready to take on whatever surprises this next decade may bring.

Bring it on 30's.... let's see what you've got.

The perils of the LDR....

Ahhh, the long distance relationship.  The old LDR.

I had promised myself after my heart was broken by a man who lived in KY while I was living in Virginia that I would never again stand on the precipice of such an arrangement.  And yet, here I am, finding myself completely smitten with a man who lives 350 miles away from me.

Never say never,guys.

People say that relationships are hard. And they are.... the in-person relationships are wonderfully, fantastically, unbelievably hard.  But they are worth it.

You know how you can really tell if you like someone enough to want them around in person, though? When it's 3 am or 3 pm or 12 pm or whatever time of day, and you get some exciting news, your dog learns a new trick, you stub your toe, or you buy a new shirt, and the first person you want to tell is not anyone who's standing nearby... but that person who's 350 miles away.


Yeah, you could say I'm in deep.

What I've learned about getting to know someone from so far away though, is that it presents its own set of challenges.

1)  First, this LDR.... what is it?  No, really? WHAT IS IT??  It walks like a duck, talks like a duck, but it is a....herron???

If you talk every day, but only see each other every month.... is that dating?  Is that a relationship?  I think the answer is different for every person and every couple.  The LDR often requires the DTR ("define the relationship" conversation).  You could decide to call it a relationship; you could decide to call it dating.  You could decide to call it nothing, but if you decide to call it nothing, you had still better be clear on what the rules around dating other people are.... otherwise, you could end up giving your whole heart to a person who is giving his to you, and someone else, and someone else.

Personally, I like labels.  I like knowing where I stand.  In my last LDR, that was a huge issue for me, mostly because the guy had proposed to me, but somehow still wasn't ok with declaring himself to be "in a relationship" with me on Facebook.

Red Flag much?

This time around.... I'm not so concerned with what the rest of the world knows quite yet.  I love this person very much.  He loves me.  I know I'm important enough for him to have mentioned me to other people in his life.  I am ok with that.  I don't date anyone else at the moment, and I trust that he doesn't either.... because if he did, I surmise, based on our conversations, that he would tell me. Would I like to be in an "official" relationship?  Yes.  Of course.  But that will come in its own time....

I'm not going to wait in limbo forever.... but I also don't want to have every important conversation of our lives via text message.  If it is meant to be, it will be.  So here I sit, contrary to what I said I'd "never" do.... in my perfectly undefined, happy nothing.

2)  Every time I get a text from this person, my stomach flips faster than a McDonalds Quarter Pounder on a Friday night.  Communication in an LDR is key.  And in these days, you can communicate at the drop of a hat.... so why not take advantage?  Tell funny anecdotes from your day.  Take a picture and send it.  Pictures of you.  Pictures of your food.  Pictures of your environment.  Make the person feel as though they are there with you.  If you want them to be there and they want to be there, you have them in spirit, and that's what matters the majority of the time.

Just be careful about what you say in a text message.  Say what you mean and mean what you say.  Some deep conversations are better in person.  Others can be had over the phone.  Use your judgement.  Just remember, inflection can't be expressed in a text.  Also, "Let's eat Grandma." is not the same thing as "Let's eat, Grandma."

Please, please, please... I'm begging you... do not end the relationship in a text.  My last LDR ended via gchat, and to this day, everytime my current guy sends me a text that looks serious I'm always afraid that's the one.  If you can't be there in person, use the phone.  Good grief.  And if you're worried about not wanting to make the person upset, I'll just say this:  they'll get over it.  And so will you.  No one's life is going to be ruined because you are no longer together.  Put on your big boy/girl underwear and cowboy/cowgirl up.

3)  Trust.  An LDR will help you build trust with a person quicker than just about any situation.  Since you are not with them, you have only to trust that they are truthful about where they are, who they're with, and what they're doing.  In some sense, it requires more blind faith than a relationship where you see each other every day, but if you are transparent about what you do and who you are, the trust you build while separated can only lead to positive outcomes together.

4)  And while you're building this awesome trust, remember that the buck has to stop somewhere.  The LDR is not an indefinite arrangement.  If it's been 6 months and there has been no talk between the two of you about the potential of making this LDR just an R without the LD, it's time to cut bait.

Take it from a woman with experience.  A man who knows he can string you along will unravel that string as far as he can and tell you whatever he knows you need to hear to keep it going.  Same thing is true for the ladies.  Don't fall into that trap.  You are worth more than that.  Words and months of texts, e-mails, and calls with someone you genuinely enjoy are amazing, but unless you can see some progression toward action to accompany those words, that's all they are.

In that case you should LDR yourself.  Leave, and Don't Rationalize.

        

A note to anyone who wants to date me

It's not always easy being the man in my life. I'm sure every woman can say that with some modicum of truth. I am no different.  

But I can say that dating me is sometimes an adventure in ways that dating someone else might not be. 

1.  Strange people follow me. 

I am often approached by people who are homeless, random people on the street who take an unsolicited interest in my life, or the occasional passerby. 

This phenomenon generally occurs for 1 of 2 reasons:

a) The person wants to tell me how inspirational I am or tell us how inspirational we are. This happens everywhere. At the movies. At the grocery store. Stepping outside my front door. 

And the "inspirational status" won't just apply to me. Once strangers ascertain the fact that we are together, they'll let you know how wonderful you are, too. 

"Oh, you're such a good person," they'll say. Or, "You're so wonderful for helping her."  Chances are, at the time that they say this, you won't be doing anything particularly wonderful or helpful or good, but strangers will want to give you an extra gold star just for hanging around me. 

(I'm not saying you wouldn't deserve one, but I'm saying it would be more for putting up with my sometimes irrational thought processes and enduring watching the Bachelor on Mondays than it would for carrying my coffee or getting my arm braces out of the car). 

Get ready to make a whole lot of inspiration porn for random people. Yes, that's a thing, and it's not dirty. It deserves a blog post of its own... so ask if you don't know. 

b) The second type of concerned passerby will approach us trying to help. They might give us unsolicited advice on the simplest things-- things we've done many times before-- getting groceries into or out of the car, going up steps, or walking in the rain. They will want to offer their assistance. 

This type of approach bothers me much less than the inspiration porn seeker, because these people are just trying to be helpful, to do something good for their fellow man. 

However, these interactions can be a bit intrusive and stalkerish at times. Case and point: I had gone to Starbucks last week with a friend. I got my order and tucked it in the front pocket of my bag with a straw as we headed to the car. 

A man, who had been watching us inside the store, follows us outside, almost to our car, and asks my friend, "Where's her order?"  He had not seen me pick it up, I guess, and was concerned that he didn't see her carrying it out. 

I told him, "I have it right here," and pointed to the cup in my bag. He never addressed me, and he left. 

2. Which brings me to my next point: People will talk to you to address me. 

They will ask you what I want to eat at a restaurant. They will hand my purchases to you. They will treat you as though you are speaking for me. 

They will often assume you are my brother, personal caregiver, cousin, assistant, whatever. 

Sometimes, this is frustrating for me. Sometimes, it will be frustrating for you. But try to stay calm. These types of people are clearly ignorant... because if they can't see why someone would want to hang around me for more than a paycheck, they are missing out. 

Of course, you should also be aware that if you show me any type of affection in front of one of these people, they will gawk. 

People with disabilities don't date. We aren't sexy. We don't get married. And we can't have families. You'll be debunking myths everyday, just by your decision to be with me. 

(Hey, maybe I should give you a gold star.)

3. I am a person with a disability. I am proud of it. Be aware of this fact. It is not something I want to change. It is not something YOU need to make allowances for. It is beautiful, and natural,  and a part of me that has helped me build many of the personality traits and characteristics that I love about myself. 

It is a part of me that follows me everywhere-- to work, at home. Out on the town, and you may find yourself introduced to new ways of thinking because of it. 

 

People first language. 

Crappy para transit services. 

Incessant planning for extended travel. 

My disability pride is a part of me that I want to share with you. I want you to be proud of it too, because it is part of my culture, and if you are with me, it will become a part of yours. 

Be prepared to listen to my rants about inadequate housing, employment discrimination,  rights of parents with disabilities, inaccessible buildings, ignorant people at work, websites that blind people can't use, the whole Netflix debacle, whatever. 

These are things that are important to me. They are a part of my fight for civil rights. For mine. For yours. Four ours. 

I say all that to say that even  though I am a passionate advocate, I will also be your girlfriend. 

The girl who loves lazy Saturdays, cooking for you, sending packages, church on Sundays, coffee, guacamole, chihuahuas, French, and music. 

The girl who thinks morbid thoughts at night, who is so concerned about your well being that she sometimes sounds like a mother, who will make sure she tells you every day how important you are. 

The girl who does what she says she's going to do, says what she means to say (except in cases of extreme hyperbole) and always, always, always loves you with her whole heart. 

Yes, it's true that its not easy being with me. But it is equally true that I'm 125% worth it.