Dating Again

Okay so my main form of meeting new men (and women) has been Tinder. Not necessarily the best way, but I have met some people with potential. Some potential, anyway. The problem with men is that the good looking ones are kind of douchy and the not really great looking ones are clingy. The problem with women is that they just really suck at keeping a conversation going.

And the biggest problem of all: they’re just not Zak.

Every person I meet gets compared to him. Brutally honestly. And it’s not easy, really. Zak looks like Liam Hemsworth. His voice is deep and husky. His eyes are soulful and kind. He smells good without even trying. If he went to the gym more often, he could have the body of a Greek god, and almost does as is. He’s tall and his shoulders are wide. His ass is perfect. His legs are even good looking.

In short, everyone dwindles in comparison. They have nothing new to offer me. There’s no chance they will give me a better orgasm. There’s no chance they’ll make me laugh more. They might make me feel more loved but will that matter when I’m still clearly in love with Zak?

So maybe dating yet is not the best option. Maybe yoga and wine is all I need.

Dear friend.

Dear friend,

Breakups are hard. I know I said that I am fine, but you of all people should know that I am not. You should know better than to gush about your amazing trip and all the bonding and sex with your thoughtful boyfriend and then wonder why I am crying.  It’s been a week and I am not fine. I am heartbroken and sad because I thought he was the one and he changed his mind about all the sweet things he said and now I have to start all over again.

Dear friend,

Breakups are hard and I have never been the one to still care this much at the end of a relationship. I am so happy that you got engaged and that your relationship is back on track, but these are not happy tears. They are tears of jealousy and I am so glad that you mistook them. I am glad because more than anything, I want to be happy for you, but the moment you told me, I wanted to tell him the happy news because I knew he’d be happy for you but then I remembered that I couldn’t. So I couldn’t be happy for you in that moment.

Dear friend,

Break ups are hard. Thank you for being there and listening and letting me cry. Thank you for reminding me of all the things I had been giving up by being with him and for not judging me when I said he was more important than all those things. Thank you for pointing out all the things I had to look forward to and understanding that I was not ready to be excited for all of it yet.

Relationships and Condo hunting

This month I realized that trying to find a place to live is much like forming a long term relationship.

I faced the experience prepared in ways I thought were important. I made a list of things I wanted my future home to have. I hired a realtor I knew. I looked into finding the right broker. I asked people what extra fees they had that they weren’t expecting. I felt ready to tackle the situation.

I mean, I don’t go into a relationship that prepared. That’s not how they’re similar. I guess everyone has a mental list of things they are looking for in a partner, but it’s usually fairly flexible. Mine is, anyway. If you’re a decent looking human being with a decent personality, chances are, I’ll give you a shot.

No. The similarities started with the first place I fell in love with. Two bedrooms, two bath. My own bathroom at the end of a giant walk through closet. A laundry room with basically brand new front loading washer/dryer. Giant balcony facing the quiet parking lot. Coras around the corner. Starbucks down the road. 10 minutes from work.

I was done. This was it. This was the one and I had to have it. So what if it was a bit out of my price range? I could do it! I was going to have a roommate. It would all work out.

I thought the same thing about the first guy I fell in love with. I was 16 and he was beautiful. Blue eyes, dark hair with the swoopy side bangs. He was tall and a football player and I was head over heels.

Much like in the relationship with him, the happiness of the potential purchase was short-lived. Only an (excruciatingly long) week later, the lender gods said no to my application for a loan. I was devastated. How would I ever find anything I liked as much again? It was over. I would be stuck living with my parents for the rest of my life.

After a few weeks of pouting, I ventured back onto mls.ca and tried again. Still nursing my broken heart, I was cautious and picky. The places were all disappointing in some way. Not enough space, not enough kitchen, not enough windows.

I found another property that was *almost* perfect. Three rooms, a basement, no condo fees. Unfortunately the entire place was carpeted, the kitchen was small and falling apart, and much like with my first long term relationship, I ended up walking away from it because I didn’t think the end result would be worth all the work I would have to out into it.

That same day I stumbled onto the one 2.0. It lacked a laundry room, but that was okay. It was the only thing missing. It had two bedrooms, a beautiful bathroom, a cute kitchen, hardwood floors. It was move in ready. The price was even perfect. I put the offer in on Tuesday and the bank said yes on Friday, and for half a day, everything looked perfect.

Then the condo board said no to my 3lbs dog and I had to fight them on that because all the information we had received previous had pointed to her being allowed. It was only the first of many problems I would encounter with them, and as the weekend drew to a close, it was becoming more stressful than joyful.

My second long term relationship came to an end the same weekend. One day he was convincing me to stay with him and the next he was breaking up with me. One day he was calling our love a fairytale, the next he was saying he didn’t want “us”.

By Monday, I didn’t have a boyfriend or a condo.

Now I’m onto my third condo, and taking a break from the dating. We’ll see how it goes.

Shopping & Bad days

It’s 7:41pm on a Saturday night and I just inhaled my dinner because I promised myself I wouldn’t get distracted halfway through it again and let it get cold. I told myself that if I finished my dinner in one try, I would reward myself by eating some of the Purdy’s chocolates I bought earlier today and that I would make a blog post. It worked. Apparently, rewarding myself for getting things done is a good motivator.

It’s 7:43pm now and I just had a sip of wine as I reflected upon my day. It was kind of horrible. I woke up in a state of panic because I thought mother nature had gifted me early this month. She hadn’t, but after a trip to the bathroom (in which I had to sneak around as I fell asleep in a tank top and underwear and my house-mates fiancée was playing video games downstairs and I really didn’t want him to see me in my underwear), I crawled back into bed, realized it was only 10 am, and then tried to go back to sleep. It didn’t work.

I finally got up around 12:30 and was in such a terrible state mood/looks wise that my house-mate actually asked if I was going to turn into a human sometime before I left the house today. I almost smacked her. But after lunch (green string beans, corn, and gluten-free hot dogs, yum) I did make myself a bit human and then headed out for shopping.

Shopping was terrible. The friend that went with me is probably the most patient person, and I love her for it. We must have gone to 15 different stores. In West Edmonton Mall. On a Saturday. In my defense, she picked the mall and we both regretted it almost immediately after we walked in. But we still stayed for 2 hours. I bought two rings and 5 tank tops for layering because they were $2.90 each (gasp!) and did not find a short, white, lace backless dress to wear to my work Christmas party in 15 days. And a giant ice cream. Which I, not very surprisingly since my eyes are bigger than my stomach, did not finish.

We ended up driving to a Le Chateau outlet in hopes of finding something. We did not.

It’s 8:11pm and I just ordered a few dresses I really really REALLY like online. I put them on expedited shipping because I really need to know if they’re going to fit before I give up shopping in this city. Hopefully all goes well…

Moving out

So I’ve been AWOL (sorry). I went on a 3 week vacation out of country, and then I came back and work and stuff happened. It was all very crazy and intense, trying to get back into the habit of things, and I spent a lot of time sleeping and doing what bunnies do with the man-friend (oh, we’re at 3 months ‘officially’ now!). And then my birthday happened, which was actually a pretty awesome birthday, everything considered. And by everything, I do mean the parents of course. Crap went down with the parents, things were said, things were broken.

So I moved out.

Well, I’ve wanted to move out for a long while. Like… since I was 14. My parents aren’t terrible, terrible people or anything, but my mother is actually really difficult to get along/live with. She takes things very personally and it is very good at guilting people (read: me) and making every situation about her. For example, us moving to a whole new country so that myself and my brother could have a chance at a better future is somehow our fault. She treats it as if she had no say in the situation and we tricked her into it. It’s very absurd.

So naturally, she’s taking me moving out quite horribly. It was all fine at first, kind of. She’s a very passive aggressive person so I got comments and stuff, but it wasn’t anything too bad. It’s been about a week and a half now, though, and things are getting.. interesting.

For example, I was invited over for dinner yesterday and so I went. She wasn’t home. She decided she didn’t want to be there, whether for the dinner or while I was there, I can’t be sure. And then she got home as we were finishing dinner and just made everything really awkward. She started watching tv really loudly and asking really random questions and saying rude things. I went to a wedding on Saturday and she asked where it was and when I said it was in the Bride’s parents’ front yard, she said, “Oh, it must be nice to have parents.” At which point I packed up and left because I was not in the mood for it.

This morning I received a text about how she was sorry for ruining dinner and how she was clearly not wanted and that she’d just leave us alone next time. I haven’t replied yet because I honestly have no idea what to say and now she is messaging me on facebook as well. I guess I should probably think of something to say pretty soon here.

Letters to You

I was thinking about you as I fell asleep and it must have triggered it. As the bus shook me awake, I suddenly realized that he wouldn’t be at my wedding and the grief gripped me hard. It felt like someone poured cold water down my neck as I remembered his face the last time I had seen him, when I had told him he had to get better because he had to come to my wedding and he told me not to be silly and that he was too old to travel so far. I’ll bring the wedding to you, I promised, never once really understanding or considering that this might actually be the last time I see him.But he was frail then and old age had taken such a hold that I should have known he would be gone in less than a year. But I guess I didn’t recognize death at the time and now I wonder why I didn’t or sometimes I think I did but I just didn’t want to admit it to myself or to her. Because she needed me.

She never said it outloud but she said it in the ways she got annoyed when I was too tired to understand what she was saying or in the times she made me eat and eat and eat while not touching a thing herself. But mostly she said it when she packed two of our biggest suitcases full of her clothes. For a two week trip. So I knew that if I fell apart so would she. And so I didn’t let myself process anything. I just stored the images and the facts and left them for a later time. I didn’t realize that time would be tonight but I guess it makes sense. We left this place as quickly as we arrived then and now I have nothing but time to think about life and what it means and what it’s really all about. And so I started thinking about you and about how I would like to build a life with you and how I could be so very happy with you. And I woke up crying because I’ve realized that he will never know you and how good you are to me and I think he would have loved to meet you. And I want to show you everything about me and he was an important part of who I am and it feels strange that you will never know him.

I wish I remembered him better and in more detail but I don’t. I remember his kindness and how much he loved me and how good he was to me. And I guess that’s the only important thing now, anyway. It’s crazy, but sometimes I swear I can feel his presence with me. And I am sure it’s him because there is a sort of happiness I feel that I associate with him. A safeness. Sometimes I feel it when I’m with you and I thought at first that it was him then as well, but now I think it’s just you. I wish you were here tonight to hold me as I try to deal with the grief that is so long overdue that it keeps bursting out in the most unfortunate ways. I need your arms around me. It’s the only thing I can think of that would help.

Meeting his parents

So, my relief at being able to wait 5 more weeks before meeting Zak’s parents was very short lived.

Like, not even a week.

I came home on Friday with a plan to re-organize my room before my friend came over. I was going to nap for 2 hours, work on my room for about an hour and a half, and then I would be ready for her to come over and we were going to watch some shows before an early bedtime so we could wake up bright and early Saturday morning for our day-long trip to Calgary.

Things didn’t really go as planned.

Zak woke me up at 6 to tell me that they had an extra ticket to the Eskimo game and to ask if I wanted to come with. Now, I have never been to a football game, and I figured that if he had asked, it was important and I should probably say yes. And when he mentioned that it had been his sisters idea, I knew I had no choice.

So I went.

And met the sister, the sisters boyfriend, momma and papa, annnd close family friends that they call aunt and uncle. Oh, right, and it was his momma’s birthday. Soooo it was crazy intimidating, to say the least. I had a good long hour of panic while I ran around, trying to find something to wear and trying to move my room around. Which actually helped because I had something else to focus on.

The whole thing went really well, actually. The Esks won, I won a vacuum cleaner (which was random because I never win anything), then we went out for drinks, and his momma apparently really liked me. She said it seems like I make him happy (and coming from a boys mom, that’s kiiiiind of a big deal) and I seem sweet.

So basically, I freaked out for nothing.I figured it would go well, but it was quite difficult to relax about it. Meeting his entire family all at once was definitely easier. I think, anyway. I got everyone out of the way all at once, which definitely means that I don’t have to go through the awkward meeting situation again.

So yay for that?!

Fishtank News

Lord Snow has deceased. I came in on a Monday a few weeks ago and he was no where to be found. I had a fairly busy day so I didn’t have time to inspect the situation. Tuesday I still didn’t see him swimming about so I decided to investigate. After much searching, I found him wedged beneath the submarine. It looked like he had gotten stuck and died under it.

Upon retrieving his body, however, I discovered that he had been half eaten. This leads me to think that Captain Marcel did it and then with the help of Admiral Hopkins, they attempted to hide his body. During the criminal act, they got hungry and enjoyed some noms. It turned out to be a win-win because when they went back to hiding his body, they were full and also he was now easier to hide as there was less of him.

He did not have a proper flushing burial, and was instead thrown into the trash can. He is succeeded by no one as he was the only one of his kind and did not even live long enough to procreate.

RIP Lord Snow. You will be missed.

Mostly because you kept the tank clean and now the filter is working extra hard. Also because it was fun to watch you dart about the tank.

Tattoos and Happiness

So I got two new tattoos over the last week. One is a white ink bow on my wrist, which I’ve wanted to get for a really long time and I am so so happy that I finally did. I mainly got it because I love bows and I feel like bows are a perfect representation of me. Because I am super girly. And also a gift to the human kind.

Okay, but not really the second part. Maybe just men. (Okay, but really no.)

The second tattoo I got is an Aries symbol with a three-point crown above it. I will break down the tattoo and list out what each part of it means, but first I feel like I should explain what it represents.

In the last 3 years, I changed drastically. I forgot how to be loving, how to be caring, how to not be selfish with people. At the beginning of this year, I was bitter, I was mean, and I was cranky. I was unhappy. I hated myself and I hated how I reacted to things and I hated that I thought it was perfectly acceptable to yell at someone I supposedly loved.

I don’t yell. I take care of people. I splurge on people and most of the time, things I do are aimed at making those around me happy. And being happy is one of my favourite things to do. Being positive is just how I prefer to be.

But I forgot how to do that.

And then I met someone who reminded me. How to be kind, how to be loving, how to be NICE. How to enjoy kisses and simple things. Someone who reminded me that I didn’t have to second guess everything that happened and that I could be optimistic.

I guess I didn’t fully realize how much I changed until I realized how difficult it was to not freak out about some things. Also, a few months ago, I was out with a friend and she got a bit too drunk and started being very honest and, amongst all the horrible things she said about my ex, she also said “I’m so glad you’re out of that. I missed this you. You’re fun again.”

So. Now that I’m back to the ‘fun’ me, I wanted to make sure that I never forget how to be this me again. And that is why i got the Aries symbol with the little crown. Because that’s what it represents to me. Happy me. Enjoyable me. The best version of me.

The tattoo itself, of course, is just a compilation of the person that reminded me how to be this person again. Aka Zak.

Aries: His astrological sign.
Crown: His (real) name means ‘crowned’. Also I thought this was fitting as my mother has always called me her ‘princess’ and I have wanted to get a crown tattoo for a long while, I just couldn’t figure out what kind/where. There is also a meaning behind crowns and being in control over your emotions and life. Also I’m a leo and lions are king of the jungle. So. All the meanings for the crown 🙂
Three points: One of my friends has a thing with the number 3 and how special it is. Also, he’s my third. So it was a logical choice over, say, a 5 point star. Which was my second choice because there was one I really liked.

Now, I haven’t told Zak this yet. I feel weird explaining it to him. Mostly because I explained it to one of my friends and she gave me the whole ‘Oh you got a tattoo for a boy’ thing, but that’s really not what it is. I have had this tattoo planned out for some time. Like, I decided to get it back when things didn’t look like we would actually start dating and when he was driving me insane every other day and I thought I was crazy because I couldn’t stop talking to him. I’m pretty sure that was in April. I was supposed to get it back when I got my back piece done at the beginning of May but I was in so much pain that day that both the tattoo artist and I forgot. But she’d had it drawn out and ready to go.

I guess I just don’t want to explain it to him yet because … well, to be perfectly honest, I don’t even know why I don’t want to explain it to him. It feels like it’s mine and I’m not really sure that I want to share it. If that makes sense. Hmm.

Meeting the Parents

So a big thing happened yesterday.

I was with Zak all day yesterday and didn’t have my car because my friend drove me to his soccer game and then I just went over to his house with his car after. Anyway, when it came time to go home, he had to drive me, and just as we were pulling into my street he realized that my dad was behind us.

Now here’s the thing. When we made things ‘official’, we agreed that meeting the parents was definitely not on the immediate to do list. Or even like… the ‘To do in the near future’ list. It was on a ‘To Do in Like 6 Months of Maybe a Year’ list. At least for me, and he didn’t seem in much of a hurry either. Like, I haven’t even met any of his friends outside of the ones he lives with. So meeting the parents seemed like a faaaaaaaar off thing to do.

Until last night.

Because last night, when we realized it was my dad (who turned out to be both my parents, actually) behind us, Zak went ‘Oh, should I go meet your parents? And say hi?’ and I was like ‘Well…. if you really waaaaaant to.’ all the while thinking ‘NO DON’T DO IT THEN I WILL HAVE TO MEET YOURS UGGHHH.’.

Unfortunately, my boyfriend does not possess the ability to read minds, so he got out of the car and met my parents. And I did the whole ‘Ma, dad, here’s ma boy. Boy, here be my parentals.’ and each respective party was like, ‘Hi.’ and then my mom asked how our Hot Air Balloon adventures were (more on this later) and all in all it went well. She thinks he’s super nice and polite (and may have made a rather inappropriate comment about his physical appearance which caused some facepalming on my part). My dad also said I could take some sausages over to his house next time I went, which in my dad speak is, ‘I approve.’ so yea, went well.

Which makes me happy.

But now I have to meet his parents (I asked and his momma has already asked when she’s going to get to meet me) and I am terrified. I don’t technically HAVE to meet them, he’s already pointed that out, but I feel like I probably should because what if I wait too long and then his momma hates me because of that.

I do not want his momma to hate me.

So I got out of meeting them immediately and said I could after I come back from my trip. Which is in 5 weeks. So 5 more weeks without meeting my boyfriends parents. I can relax again.

And it’s not even that I have something against meeting them. I just want them to like me, and mostly I want to like them. And I had SUCH a great relationship with Allen’s mom that I’m afraid it won’t happen again and that scares me. Also I really want them to like me and he mentioned once that his mom didn’t like his ex and thaaaat scares me. Like. Poop my pants kind of scary.

What if she ends up being like the typical horrible mother in law (you know, IF that ever happens) and just makes my life terrible? Am I over thinking this? I should probably just not worry about it for the next 5 weeks. Hopefully that’s a thing I can do.