Tag Archives: mistakes

Looking back…

1 Aug

I don’t usually write this type of blog, but I am finding myself so incredibly blessed recently, that I can’t help but share my thoughts on the reasons why.

We make choices in life. Each choice, however small though it may seem, molds US and more importantly, the LIVES WE ARE LIVING, into who we are and WHERE we are today. Sometimes I am in awe when I look back and see how all of my seemingly unrelated choices have compounded into the life that I am leading. It’s pretty amazing to me. And I feel so incredibly lucky to have had the foresight years ago to have seen the path my life could take if I chose exactly the path I chose. And to my great relief, and surprise to be honest, my choices have brought me to exactly where I want to be. I’m so glad I was brave and took a chance.

I am speaking of three HUGE life choices in particular here… and a few mini huge life choices along the way as well…

Looking back, all I can say is this: I’m so so glad that I never settled. Not on anything. Not ever. I have always lived my life ‘as if’ and I am learning every day that there is NO OTHER way to live it. We only get one go after all.

So let’s go back and take a look…

Four years ago, almost to the month, I would NEVER have ever been able to predict that my life would end up where it’s ended up today. I had just moved home from San Diego to Woodland, Ca and I was pretty positive that I had made a huge mistake. I had lived in San Diego for 6 years, and although I had a strong feeling that that was not where I was meant to live out my life, I just could not seem to picture myself anywhere else at that time. My friends where there, my memories where there, my life was there. But I had left a huge chunk of my wallet there as well, and it was just time. After trip number 3 to Europe on a credit card, I could deny it no longer… it was time to go home and try to be a grown up.

My plan was to move home, live with the parents for a year, somehow pay off the $20,000 in credit card debit that I had accumulated and then I was going to move right back down to San Diego and continue my care free life.

I remember my friends warning me about dating while I was home.

They were concerned, even though I had been single for two years in San Diego and had no intentions of dating anyone ever again (after heartbreak number 3 that is), that I would find someone, fall in love, and never come back.

I moved home on a Tuesday. I went on my first date with Burny that same Friday. Isn’t life funny? If I had not gone to Europe so many times to get myself so far into debt and had no other option but to move home at just that time, perhaps I would have never reconnected with Burny in that first week… where would I be?

So needless to say, my friend’s worst fears came true. I met someone, fell in love, and never moved back to San Diego.

This was my first HUGE life choice: Burny.

I knew what San Diego had to offer me. I knew I would be happy there.  I had my friends, I had security, I had a job, I had a future. And I knew that dating Burny was sealing my fate of potentially living in Woodland for the rest of my life… and yet, I didn’t want to settle for what I KNEW. I decided to stay and struggle with Burny instead. I chose love. But mainly, I chose ME.

I know it sounds weird, but you MUST live your life selfishly sometimes… I can say that everytime I’ve done what’s right for ME, it’s been what’s right for everyone who I love and care about. If you’re not truly happy in your life, who will want to share your life with you?

Well, chosing Burny meant knowing nothing! Where would we end up? Where would we even begin? Where would we work? How would we ever afford a family? Sooooo many unknowns.

And just as I suspected, we were broke from the start. We lived with my mother. We ate what my mother cooked. We went on the vacations my mother invited us on. To say that we were living paycheck to paycheck would be drastically understating it.

I took a job that I thought I would love at an eye doctors. I wanted to get into the medical field, but I quickly learned that doctors are not always a picnic, but they are ALWAYS the ones calling the shots. Without realizing it… I had surrendered my entire life to my bosses… they decided my hours, my vacations, my WORTH! But it was stable, right? It’s what everyone does, right? It was the option that had the least unknowns!

And on the other side of things, Burny took a job working construction, even though he hated it. It was for money. It was for stability. It was for our future and yet it was NOT for us. Not at all. None of it!

Jump forward a year, 2008… three years ago…

I remember asking Burny what he REALLY wanted to do for a living. We had been struggling for a year, working the jobs we didn’t like for the sole purpose of ‘bettering our situation’, and yet we were no better off. We were still living with my mom. We were still broke. And I was still in debt. So I figured, what the hell did we have to lose at that point? I just couldn’t BARE the thought of forty years of that life!

I asked Burny what he would do if he could do anything. I refused to become the couple that came home from work every night and complained about our jobs to one another. Life is hard enough! And I just could NOT see the point in that!

So I asked him… and he told me that he wanted to join the Air Force and he wanted to be a firefighter.

Well alright then! That was to become the plan. Why head any further down the path we were on, if that wasn’t where we wanted to be? Sometimes the right thing is picking the most ridiculous option!

I say ridiculous because if you know anything about our lovely military, you know that taking this path meant taking a pretty significant pay cut… one that we already couldn’t afford to take. But again, life is too short to settle… so we took the risk.

This was the second HUGE life choice. We would not be where we are today without being selfish in that moment and doing what we WANTED to do instead of what our circumstances would suggest we should do.

Burny went off to boot camp, and I continued trucking away with my medical career… a career that was proving to drain me of all of my time and energy, without filling me back up with any sort of satisfaction or financial gain. But when I asked myself the same question I had asked Burny: What did I really want to be doing? Theatre just seemed like an irresponsible option at the time. We couldn’t afford to both chase our dreams. Because if there is no money in the medical field, there is REALLY NO money in theatre!! So I just continued on. At least I could rest well knowing that the man I loved was loving what he was doing. I knew that my day would come… I just had no idea what form my next life choice was going to take!

And to be honest, if I wasn’t living my life slightly selfishly, praying for and wanting something better for myself, I would have missed this opportunity all together. I would never have believed in the potential. I would have settled.

A little over two years ago, I was invited- fatfully so- to an Arbnne party.

I remember opening the email invite at work and immediately thinking:

“Oh my God! My very smart friend (bridesmaid at the time), who has a degree and a real job, is doing one of THOSE types of businesses!”

I honestly thought she was being ridiculous! My mother comes from Mary Kay and she must have passed all the negativity she got from that experience onto me, because I was not only completely opposed to my friend doing the business, I was put off that now I was obligated to go to her damn party!

Going to that party… was one of those mini life choices I mentioned before. I shutter to think where I would be without having gone.

I told you that I had no idea the form in which my huge life choices were going to take! We never know! But I am grateful that I had such a strong negative reaction to Lizzard starting this business, because it really incentivized me to actually go to the party so that I could talk some sense into her! And that was my only intention… not to buy, certainly not to do the business… but to harass her for getting involved with such a stupid, house wife-type business!

God works in mysterious ways.

Here I was hoping and praying for something more to come into my life… and without even realizing it… I nearly shot this gift down before I even had the chance to open the wrapping.

I like to think about the story of how a man was caught in a flash flood and moments before it hit, he was warned that it would come on the radio. Once he climbed onto his roof to escape the water, praying endlessly for God to save him, a helicopter flew over head and offered assistance. He told them ‘No, God will save me!’ Once the helicopter flew off, a boat came by and offered assistance. He told them ‘No, God will save me!’ Of course, the man died and when he greeted God in heaven and asked why God had not saved him… God could only respond ‘I warned you that the flood would come. I sent a helicopter and a boat to save you. I did answer your prayers!’

I love that story because so often we are blind, or UNWILLING TO SEE, the true blessings that are offered up to us daily. Everything happens for a reason. Never forget that!

So, needless to say, I went to that party… broke as a joke, still living at my moms- now MARRIED and living at my mom’s, still every bit as in debt as I was two years before, still working my butt off to better our situation at a job I didn’t like, still no where NEAR buying a house or even moving out, no where near starting the family I so desperately wanted, no where near my dreams of getting back into the theatre…

When I was trying to leave San Diego one of the three times I attempted before actually making the move home, I had a conversation with a dear friend about life. I told him that I knew moving home was a step backwards, but I thought that sometimes taking a step backwards was the only way to take a step forward. He disagreed. He told me that he would much rather stand still, than ever take a step backwards. I thought he was brilliant. I stayed in San Diego another year after that conversation…

Looking back… There is NO SUCH THING as a step backwards… the world only moves forward. I will NEVER stand still again. Standing still is being passive. That was definitely a mini life choice that taught me a major life lesson!

So anyway, I went to that Arbonne party and two quite extraordinary things happened to me there! One: I learned! I actually learned a TON about what I was doing to my body and why I might be on 5 medications for no reason… and Two: I was asked a very important question:

Where will you be in 5 years if you keep doing what you’re doing?

Wow!

I had never thought of it in just that way. I knew where I wanted to be in 5 years. I knew what I dreamed I would be doing in 5 years. I knew what I THOUGHT and HOPED I would be doing in 5 years… but when I stopped to think about what I ACTUALLY WOULD be doing in 5 years if I stayed on the path I was on… I couldn’t help but look back at the past two years and think… God, I’ll be doing the same damn thing five years from now!!!! OH SHIT! How did I let that happen???? All my living selfishly and wanting and hoping for more was leading me down the exact road I was trying to avoid!

Ever heard the phrase: “Wish in one hand and take a poop in the other and see which one fills up faster?”

So that was it. I made a decision (after doing some research), that this ridiculous option was going to be THE EXACT THING that was going to save us. Not just save me, but save my family! We were going to get everything we ever wanted out of this crazy, stupid, house-wife type business!

This was HUGE life choice number three… not going to that party, but DECIDING that this was the answer. DECIDING that there are no coincidences. DECIDING that if I was going to pray and wish and hope for things to change, I had better be willing to chance some things. And that’s just what I did…

Jump forward two more years to the present…

I didn’t know at the time that I was making HUGE life choices… but I can see it so plainly now. We make HUGE life choices, and a lot of mini huge life choices, every day. When we choose to complain instead of change, we make that choice. We we choose to settle, instead of change, we make that choice. When we choose to stay the path even when the path isn’t our best life, we make that choice. Everything, EVERYTHING in life is a choice. And it all leads you to where you are going… so beware! Look for those road signs. Look for those radio warnings about the flash flood that might come. Look for the helicopters flying around to save you… because often times we are too settled to notice them!

Two years ago, I made a small change. I took on the huge challenge of starting a business from home in the hopes that one day it would pay off for my family. I hoped more than anything else that even if I never got to see true financial freedom from this opportunity… that I would at least get some of the choices back in my life… I wanted to be able to choose if I stayed home with my family. I wanted to be able to choose when, not IF, I got to go on vacations… and where those vacations would be to. I wanted to choose my worth, and choose what I was going to do with my time.

It’s 2pm on a Monday and I am sitting here, with my swollen pregnant feet up, writing a blog because writing is one of my many passions that I want to pursue.

I wouldn’t say we know true financial freedom just yet, but in two years, we went from living at my mom’s, to buying our own house. We went from $20,000 in debt to no debt and even paying off my car and a new computer. We went from going camping for a lavish vacation (and don’t get me wrong, I love camping) to leaving in 10 days for the Atlantis resort in the Bahama’s on the honeymoon we could never afford to take. My husband is driving here right now in the brand new R-Class Mercedes Benz that Arbonne has given me to bring my first baby home in.

We went from living paycheck to paycheck, to living comfortably in a life of choices… choices that WE make for OUR family. I’m finally going to be a mom… and I feel so at peace knowing that my circumstances will never make the choices for me again. I call the shots now. And whether I want to sit at home with my new baby, or start a theatre company in my new town… I can do either because it’s my life… truly MY life now.

I am blessed. I know that. I am grateful for it everyday. I thank God for Arbonne. I honestly do. You can ask my husband, what has allowed us to get to where we are so quickly? Arbonne. Hands down. And now, as if I could ask for anything more, I have the AMAZING opportunity to help other’s do exactly what I have done… make a small change for a HUGE pay off. And now, that’s what I do for a living… I help others change their lives for the better.

If you know me well, and you think this blog is cheesy or a ploy to solicit my business… than you don’t know me well. This is my heart. I can’t express how grateful I am for what I’ve been given. But it’s so much more rewarding when you know that you have BUILT it for yourself. You made the choice. You made the change. You made the difference…

Two years ago, my Regional Vice President asked me to write down everything I could ever dream of having in my life. I wrote:

Debt free

Becoming a mom

Not living paycheck to paycheck

Owning a home

Travel

Being Content

It’s only been two years and I can’t help but notice that I didn’t dream big enough! I’ve accomplished all that and then some… now what? Now I get to dream even bigger! What a trip!

Don’t ever stand still in life.

Don’t ever miss the reason behind each everything that happens.

Don’t ever let life just happen to you.

Live your BEST life!

7 days

16 Nov

It took me 7 days to fall in love with my husband.

I think that is as realistic as ‘love at first sight’ is going to get. And to be honest, it was hardly the first time I had seen him. It wasn’t even the first time that I had talked to him or hung out with him. So I guess ‘love at first sight’ doesn’t really, actually apply here. And I believe that ‘love at first sight’ is pretty illogical anyway so I’m sorry I even brought it up.

Burny and I actually met in high school. I get asked that question all the time; ‘Where did you guys meet?’ When I say ‘high school’, people look surprised. And that surprises me. I heard a statistic once that most people already know the person they are going to marry by age 20. I heard that statistic when I was about 22 and I thought they were crazy. I just could not imagine marrying the guy I was dating when I was 22 and naturally when someone says that you already know the person you are going to marry, you assume it’s going to be the person you’re dating at that time. Well, I know I did. I don’t want to say I always assumed I would marry who I was dating, but I did often wonder if I would wind up with whoever the guy of the moment was at that particular moment. So when this person told me this statistic, I really hopped that they were wrong.

But guess what…

I do actually remember the first time I met my husband, and it’s kind of a funny story. I was dating LemonBass at the time, my high school sweetheart, and LB and I were sitting in the dark in the living room of his mother’s house and we were watching a scary movie. We had been dating for some time by that point so there was certainly no hanky panky going on. We were actually just watching the movie.

Que Burny’s entrance into my life.

Burny marched into the dark room, gave a rather strange look around, and curled up under a blanket on the other couch. Lemon and I looked at him expectantly, but he didn’t seem too concerned with giving us an explanation as to who he was or what he was doing, so we just went back to watching the movie in silence.

Come to find out later, that weird kid was one of Lemon’s brother’s friends who had been forced to smoke too much weed in the back yard.

Who could have ever guessed that so many years later I would have walked down the aisle towards that same kid? Certainly not me.

Burny was a year behind me in high school and he didn’t show up on the scene until my senior year, so our time in school together was limited. We weren’t what you would call friends, although I certainly thought very highly of him… once I got past the whole stoner thing. You could say that we knew OF each other. We had mutual friends. His best guy friends were my best guy friends, but I actually only have a few memories that include him.

One of which takes place at my high school graduation. A few weeks into our relationship, Burny and I just so happened to walk in on my sister and Mom watching home videos. The video that was up on the tv was of my graduation party. I was filming and I was scanning the back yard, commenting on all my crazy friends that were jumping around in the pool and all of a sudden… there was Burny. Right smack dab in the middle of a water fight with my step brother. I would never have remembered that he had come to my graduation party. Surely he was there not for me, but for our mutual friends who were also graduating that day. But seeing him on the video tape did bring back a very interesting memory…

Burny made out with my cousin that night. I remember my sister telling me all about it in the morning. I don’t think he will ever live that down. Life is really funny sometimes.

2 years later, after I had moved down to San Diego for college and had ended my relationship with LemonBass, I was home for Spring Break and a very close friend of both Burny and mine invited me out to see a band play. The band was called ‘Burn TACtics and the Loco Focos’. Maybe you’ve heard of it? 😉 Burny was the leading man of course, but I was mainly there in support of our mutual friends- aka the other band members.

But I have to tell you… I took notice of Burny for the first time that day. I leaned over to KayTown, who just so happened to be there with me and I told her that I was getting a major crush on the lead singer. What I was really saying to her was: Years from now, you are going to be a bridesmaid in our wedding. How strange.

After the show, I told their manager and close friend that if Burny ever broke up with his girlfriend- whom I knew he had been dating for years and definitely expected him to marry- he should give me a call! My friend told me that I had no chance. Apparently he expected Burny to stay with his girlfriend too. Little did he know that he too would be toasting at our wedding only a few short years later.

The next memory I have of Burny before I started my decent into love, happens to be a mere 6 months before our fated re-connection.

I was home for Christmas- home from San Diego that is- and  it was the night of my families annual Christmas party. If you have ever been to said Christmas party, you know that it is an epic time. Each year manages to trump the previous year and it’s greatly looked forward to by those who attend regularly. Needless to say, there is a lot of alcohol assumption going on. And this particular Christmas party was no exception.

Now, to be honest, my memory of this night varies somewhat drastically from Burny’s so let me just give you a quick run down of both.

My version goes like this:

I called one of Burny and my closest friends, PCharm. PCharm and I go WAY back. I have to say, PCharm is one of my oldest friends. I met him when I had just turned 5 years old and I’m proud to say that he was in our wedding. (That’s the cool thing about small towns). I also have to say that at this time, PCharm and I were somewhat… complicated. (That’s the weird thing about small towns). So when I called him to leave a message, I never would have expected that Burny would be the one to call me back. But alas, he did.

I remember having a brief conversation with Burny which went as follows:

Me: Come on over if you want, we are still partying.

Burny: Okay. We will try to stop by.

Granted, I do remember being a little bit excited that Burny was calling me. As I mentioned, I had always thought very highly of him. I knew he was an amazing guy. To this day, I’ve never heard anyone say a bad thing about him and at the time, he and I had never really had a very direct conversation so I was a bit flustered. And I will also admit that I had been drinking and that I am naturally a flirt. But I am pretty sure Burny is exaggerating in his version, which goes something like this:

Burny: Hey there… Is the party still going on?

Me: Yes. You should come over here and have sex with me.

That hardly sounds like me!!

Burny didn’t make it to the party that night. I wonder how my  life would be different now if he would have. What would be different between us? Would we still be together? Would we have ever started dating at all? Clearly,  it wasn’t our time quite yet…

That Christmas was the last Christmas I called San Diego my home. I moved back to Northern California the following June. I think I always knew that I was not going to spend my life in San Diego, however, it ripped my heart out to leave. When I graduated college, the plan was for me to move back home with my mom. But then I met Sinkin’ Ship and my plans changed. After my going away party, I changed my  mind and I stayed in San Diego.

After Sinkin’ Ship and I broke up for the last time, I put my tail between my legs and decided that the time had come at last for me to leave the beautiful San Diego weather. After my second going away party, MacTen convinced me that my place was still in SoCal. I moved into her dinning room and stayed. I just couldn’t make myself leave. It wasn’t time… Fate was working it’s magic.

Burny and I talk all the time about how timing has EVERYTHING to do with us getting together. If I would have moved home either of those first two times, we probably wouldn’t have reconnected. And if I had decided to stay in San Diego any longer than I had… he would have gone into the military and I would have probably never spoken to him.

But alas…

The third time I decided to move home from San Diego came along side my third trip to Europe. I had been toying with the idea that perhaps it was time for me to just bite the bullet and go home to pay off some debt before returning to San Diego of course. When I bought my third round trip plane ticket to Europe on a charge card I decided that that trip was going to be my last irresponsible action. I went to Europe in April and moved home in June. They say the third times a charm… but I wasn’t so sure. By the time I had my third going away party, my friends were kind of wondering if maybe I just had a drinking problem and needed an excuse to throw parties. I had cried wolf so many times that no one believed I would actually go… but I drove a uhaul up the state of California for the last time that year.

It was a Tuesday.

I had been home in Northen California all of one day. I was unpacked. I was miserable.

The ONLY thing that I was looking forward to was Friday. Why?

About a month before moving home, fate made another appearance in the way of facebook. Guess who popped up in the ‘people you may know’ section?

Burn TACtics.

Apparently my sister had recently befriended him and so facebook decided that perhaps I would also enjoy being his friend as well. Of course facebook knows all! When I went to click on his picture, an amazing thing happened… I noticed that his picture wasn’t a picture at all. It was an album cover! And I wasn’t excited because he had made it to the big time… I was excited because the album was entitled: Goodbye Emily Jane.

Goodbye Emily Jane????

That could only mean one thing! He was single! Everyone knew that his high school sweetheart and all around perfect girlfriend was named Emily Jane. Now was my chance!!

And PS… clearly, up until this moment I thought that he was still in a relationship and so I would never in a million years have been so flirtatious and forward the previous Christmas, knowing full well that he was off the market. But that’s neither here nor there.

I made my move.

I messaged him.

I told him that I was moving home and that we should hang out sometime. I made up some sob story about not having any friends back home and so he should feel sorry for me. I, of course, suggested we hang out the first Saturday that I would be home- many of my friends had agreed to go out that night already- but he had a wedding to go to that night. So, like the gentleman that he is, he suggested an alternative night. He suggested we go get a drink on Friday, the night before the wedding.

Perfect.

So as I said, the only thing that kept me from moving straight back down to San Diego that first week, was my ‘kind of’ date on Friday night with my future husband.

And I mean that 100%. Fate is a tricky thing. I really believe that if it weren’t for something potentially exciting in Woodland-aka a boy- I would have packed my car right back up and moved right back down to SoCal.

When Friday came around, I took the chicken way out and I decided to text message Burny. I have never been much of a phone person and I feel like texting just seems more casual. So I text him to see if we were still on for that night.

He called me right back. Like… RIGHT back.

And of course I didn’t answer. I was totally freaking out. I just sat there and watched the phone ring, thinking of some dumb excuse as to why I hadn’t been able to answer the phone that had clearly just been in my hand about 1/2 second before.

After laying by the pool with my newly re-established, oldest friend, Lark- I called Burny back and told him that I had jumped in the shower and had missed his call. LIES! He confirmed our plans, we set a time and a place, and now all there was left to do was wait.

I talked Lark into coming with me on my casual meet up as my wing man. She had just gotten married not even a month before that and we joked that maybe Burny and I would end up hitting it off and getting married ourselves. Life is just really really funny.

Burny and I met up later that night at a little place called Morrison’s. We exchanged hugs like we were old friends, but really, we weren’t. We weren’t friends meeting up to talk about old times… but since we had both brought along friends, we weren’t exactly on a date either… the boundaries were fuzzy right from the get go.

But I remember having a really great time that night. We talked about break ups and high school friends. We talked about San Diego and Europe. We basically just talked for the first time in any sort of real way. And I really liked him. I knew that right away. However, being that I was such a recent transplant from San Diego, I was still so used to the ‘straight to sex’ type of bar conversation. So I wasn’t sure if Burny was even interested in me in that way at all. He was being respectful and friendly and sweet… which were three completely foreign concepts to me at the time. Unfortunately, I had truly begun to associate my self worth with whether or not I thought the guy that I was talking to wanted to sleep with me. I’m glad I got out of San Diego when I did… imagine the giant mess I would have become if I would have stayed.

Either way, after the bar, Burny and I headed over to a friend’s house to continue chatting. We hadn’t had much to drink at the bar- which again, was a new idea for me- and so when we left for our second location, we both felt perfectly safe and ready to leave our wingmen behind.

That night, I am sad to say, Burny and I paid homage to our very first meeting all those years before. Burny and I smoked weed together. Gross, I know. Trust me, I hate that about our first date… but I guess it all happened for a reason. Because up until I smoked, I knew I was really winning Burny over with my charm. After I was high, all I could think about was how dumb I was acting. Needless to say, if we hadn’t have gotten high together that first night, we wouldn’t have addressed the fact that neither of us wanted to smoke weed ever again. And quite frankly, if we hadn’t have had that conversation, we probably would have broken up. I knew that he had smoked a lot in the past, and I also knew that I wasn’t ready to be dating a stoner… and so the conversation presented itself very early on, which looking back… was a blessing.

So anyway… we hung out until 4:30 am that first night. We didn’t kiss. We just talked. But I walked away a little more committed to staying in Woodland than I would have liked.

That was day one. We made plans to go on a hike the following Monday.

Day two: Saturday.

Burny had a wedding to go to. He had invited me to come with him as his date, but I had already made plans with the rest of my friends to go out on the town in honor of my return. But I knew it was already too late for me; I would have much rather have gone to that wedding with Burny than anywhere else with my friends. But alas, it was not meant to happen that way.

Before the wedding, Burny called me just to say hello. I thought that was very sweet and I appreciated that he wasn’t a game player and didn’t think that he had to wait any certain amount of time to call me because guys,… girls hate it when you do that! But even still… despite the great night, the invite to the wedding, and the phone call… I wasn’t so sure that Burny was interested in anything more than friendship.

That night out at the bars, I found myself in somewhat of a predicament: I had been left behind by my friends. I have to say, it’s not the first time that it’s happened to me, but it is the first time that I literally had no one to come and rescue me. I tried to call Burny, which is a HUGE sign that I was already in too deep with him, but he text me to say that he was drunk and was unable to drive.

I figured it out, don’t worry readers… I always do. I found my way safely back home without making TOO many bad decisions.

But anyway, the next morning when I woke up, I already had a voice message from Burny. He was checking on me to make sure that I had found my way home safely. I decided that I was not going to be afraid of the phone, and I gave him a call back instead of texting. You should be proud of me!

I asked him if he would like to come over to go swimming. He agreed. We both invited friends over and we made a day of it. Again, I found myself a little concerned that I was breaking all of my rules and I was going to get myself attached… but I figured that I had had my heart broken before and I could probably stand to have it broken again if he just wanted to be friends in the end. What the hell!

But just for good measure, when I hung up the phone, I looked at my Mother and asked her:

‘Are you ready to meet your future son-in-law?’

It’s frightening, I know.

Burny stayed for dinner that night. Non-date number 2 and he was already meeting the folks. I’ll never forget sitting across the table from him as he talked with my mom and step dad. My mom kept shooting me these looks like she was trying to say: Don’t screw this one up! It goes without saying that I had never brought home anyone even remotely close to Burny. He was just in a class all by himself. I mean, I wasn’t worried about him meeting my parents. I knew he would impress them. But I found myself even more impressed by him because of how actually IMPRESSIVE he was. And to be honest, it was really starting to freak me the hell out…

What if he really did just want to be friends? For some reason, I just could not get that out of my head. But I had no choice but to continue to fall for him. There was no turning back.

After dinner, Burny and I got back in the hot tub. He sat on one side and I sat on the other side and we talked. No hanky panky. We just talked about everything. I can’t even remember it all, but we just couldn’t seem to be silent. There was too much to know.

After the spa, we laid in our wet clothes on the floor of my mother’s living room.  We were both wrapped in towels, our heads propped up on pillows, and we talked some more. Burny kept telling me that I had these ‘looks’ as he called them. He told me he was trying to learn them all. And each time he noticed a new ‘look’ he would point it out to me. He told me I was beautiful. He told me that I had the face to be in movies, which by that point he knew was my dream. But he didn’t kiss me. He didn’t even touch me.

When he left, it was 4:30 in the morning again. We hugged goodbye.

That was day three.

Day four: Monday. Our hike!

Remember? On Friday night we had planned to meet up Monday and go on a hike. We hadn’t planned to see each other on Sunday and so now that we had, Monday definitely felt more like a date than I think either of us had really intended it to be. It was the first time that we would actually be alone from start to finish, on purpose. I was pretty confident that if we were going to cross over into the dating category, we would need to have our first kiss on this, our third non-date.

He came over to pick me up around 10am, only 5 1/2 hours after he had left my house. We hugged good morning, but there was no kiss. We made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and hopped in the car. He knew where we were headed. He had a plan… I could only hope his plan included him busting a move. I’ve never been one for sober move busting and since I knew we had not packed any BudLight… it was going to be all up to him.

We had discussed hiking at length on Friday. He asked me what I was most looking forward to doing now that I was back home and my answer was hiking and camping. It’s true that I love the outdoors, but it’s also true that I’m a girl and I need to take things slow. When we agreed to hike on Monday, we also agreed to hike something mild and relatively easy. I hadn’t been doing much hiking down in San Diego.

He said he knew just the place.

It didn’t take me long to realize that his ‘mild and relatively easy’ was a LOT different than mine. OH MY GOD! I thought I was going to die. It didn’t help that the temperature was a ripe 109 degrees, or that the trail he had planned for us to take was now under water. He hadn’t accounted for the snow melt.

So as he tried to figure out a way for us to get to this magical location that he said we could hike to, have lunch, and return from all within about two hours… I did my very best to keep my mouth shut. I had said that I was an outdoorsy girl and I knew for a FACT that he was a very outdoorsy guy and so the last thing I wanted to do was complain. As a matter of fact, the last thing I wanted to do was talk… I was so out of breath from the incline of the trail that I knew if I were to talk, my breathing would have given me away as a rookie in no time! I was so embarrassed.

About 30 minutes into the hike, we found ourselves hiking along what I can only describe as a cliff side. We were walking along the cliff parallel to the steam below us. The ground was like quick sand. Every step I took filled my tennis shoes with dirt, and sent me sliding just a little bit further down the cliff face. I was grabbing on to bushes and trees and dirt and logs… whatever would keep me from sliding down the hill and/or falling on my ass. I had so many splinters in my hands and my shoes were so full of rocks that I thought I would never get through the day without crying. But Burny was moving so quickly that it was all I could do to keep up.

We weren’t talking to each other and I wasn’t quite sure why that was. I knew that I was too out of breath and too pissed to talk, but I wasn’t sure why he was so quiet. I figured he was either annoyed at my slow pace or best case scenario, out of breath himself. I never dreamed that he was actually thinking the exact same thing I was:

‘If we don’t quit soon… I’m never going on another date with this person again.’

I of course meant that I would rather not date this amazing guy if it meant that I would have to be subjected to this on a regular basis.

And of course he knew that if he didn’t abort mission, and abort it quick… I was never going to agree to see him again.

So true.

Alas, as we approached the 1 hour mark, Burny turned to me and said:

“This is not going as planned. Do you want to just go back to your house and get in the pool?”

Sweeter words I had never heard.

Relationship saved.

As we headed back to the car, the flood gates opened. We both started complaining and laughing openly about our disastrous first hike. He agreed that he was just miserable and he commended me on making it so far without saying a word. I promised him that it had not been easy.

As it turned out, during the entire hour hike, we hadn’t made it more than 100 yards away from the car.

And furthermore… about 6 months later, we attempted the same hike again. It took us 2 hours to hike in, we spent the night where Burny had intended for us to just have lunch, and then we hiked back out the following morning.

I have no idea what he was thinking.

Back at my house that afternoon, Burny and I picked up on our conversation where we had left off the days before. It felt like we just had so much to say to each other. We just couldn’t know enough or share enough. I was just hungry for information. I wanted to know everything about him. I couldn’t get enough of it. And it seemed like he felt the same way, although we maintained our pattern of no kissing, no touching, no sitting next to each other… just talking. Just words. But there was something there… or so I thought. I hoped.

It was on that day that I realized that I wanted to marry him.

I had already decided that I wanted to date him; be his girlfriend. Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I want that? He was perfect to me. He was attractive, he was kind, he was a gentleman, he was well spoken and intelligent, he was interesting and interested, he was real. He was honest. And I wanted him to be mine. But it was in that pool on that Monday that I realized I wanted him to be my husband.

I asked him what the most important thing in the world was to him.

His answer?

Becoming a father.

I just knew. I knew in that moment that he wasn’t like anyone else I had ever met, let alone dated. He was different. He was so different. And I knew that if he would have me, I was going to marry him.

They say ‘when you know, you know.’

Day five.

Tuesday.

I didn’t have a job yet. I had just moved home the week before and although I was supposed to be job searching, my new infatuation was completely interfering with the rest of my life. I basically lived to talk with Burny. And Tuesday I woke up in a little bit of a panic…

Tuesday was the first day that I didn’t already have plans with Burny!

Friday was the drinks, Saturday he had the wedding, Sunday I had a reason to call him first thing, Monday the hike… and then TUESDAY! Crap! Nothing. No reason to call, no plans to see each other. It was torture, I assure you.

When we first starting going on our non-dates, Burny was working for his dad which meant that his schedule pretty much worked around what he had going on. However, because he had taken Monday off entirely for our horrendous hike, I knew that he was going to have to put in some extra time on Tuesday to catch up. So I came to the very difficult decision that I was going to just have to wait until he called me.

Although I was completely worried that Burny only thought of me as a friend, I was pretty sure that he was going to call. If nothing else, I was very confident that he at least enjoyed spending time with me. If we weren’t going to end up in a relationship, surely I was going to be the best friend that everyone knew was really in love with him.

Burny didn’t call until nearly 5 o’clock, which in hindsight, was a perfectly normal time to call. He said he had just finished work and that his family was expecting a family friend for dinner. My heart dropped. Did that mean…

“I won’t be able to do anything tonight, but we should meet up tomorrow.”

Devastated.

I have to be honest, I was truly heart-broken that I wouldn’t be able to see him. I mean, it was only going to be one night but I felt like it might as well have been a year. Burny had already become my addiction and now he was just asking me to quit cold turkey. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with myself.

Up until our first night out for drinks, only five days previous, all I had been doing was thinking about San Diego and how stupid I had been to move home. Now, after Burny, all I could think about was him. I had been in deep water before, but never quite like that.

I called my sister that night and I told her that I THOUGHT I was dating Burn TACtics. She knew who he was, of course, from high school and she was more than pleased, although she did find it hysterical that I managed to get myself anchored to Woodland in less than a week. It was no secret that my previous string of boyfriends had been less than tolerable. Burny was a giant LEAP in the right direction. I could tell that she was excited for me, but I just couldn’t seem to convey to her just how excited I was!

I told her all about our non-dates and how badly the hike had gone. And then I told her:

“If he likes me… I’m going to marry him.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, but I don’t think she realized how completely serious I was. I knew that if he and I ended up together, I would be off the market for good. But I just couldn’t seem to figure out whether or not he really liked me… or just liked being around me.

I analyzed the situation with LoDown over the phone as well that night. She was scheduled to come up for a visit that Thursday- only a few days away- and so I was hoping that I could introduce him to her and she could help me shed some light on the situation. She said she was pretty convinced, based on the evidence thus far, that he did actually really like me, but I just wasn’t ready to come to that conclusion.

It just felt like that would be too good to be true. People like Burny didn’t like people like me. I wasn’t lucky like that…

By the time Wednesday night came around, I was chomping at the bit to see Burny.

It was the sixth day.

He came right over after work and we sat on the couch upstairs and talked for 8 hours straight. We came down for dinner of course, and enjoyed another lovely meal with my family, but we returned to the upstairs couch to continue our riveting conversation. Like I said, I cant’ remember all the juicy details about what we found to talk about for all of those hours in those first six days, but I do remember that on that Wednesday he told me that he had missed me the day before. One day apart and he missed me. I was sure that was a good sign, but we were still sitting on opposite sides of the couches, with our feet touching in the middle. If he did like me so much… where were all the moves? If someone didn’t do something quick… we were going to turn into Mormons right there on the spot. Poof!

There was one other fairly major sign that night, that he really did like me in that way…

As we were chatting on the couch, I mentioned that my good friend LoDown was going to be coming to town the following day. I told him that we should all go out and that I was very excited for him to meet her and vice versa.

And would you believe it… in all that talking, Burny had failed to even mention to me the fact that Thursday morning he was scheduled to go down to Irvine with his family to watch his sister graduate college. All those hours of talking and the topic of ‘what are you up to this weekend?’ never made its way into the conversation.

I was shocked and completely bummed! I was so excited at the thought of one of my closest friends from San Diego, mixing in with my new reason for staying in Woodland. Not to mention, I desperately needed her to tell me that he liked me for real.

How was that going to happen if Burny wasn’t even going to be around? TERRIBLE!!

I guess my disappointment was pretty obvious because Burny took quick action. He made a quick call to his dad, jumped on the internet and BOUGHT A PLANE TICKET for Friday morning to fly down and meet his family in Irvine. Just like that. He actually purchased a $150 plane ticket just so that he could stay in Woodland an extra night to meet my friend.

I mean, I was pretty convinced by this point… but I just couldn’t be sure if he was really into me. I didn’t want to assume. You know what they say about assuming!! And besides, this grand gesture could still be interpreted as him just really liking to be around me. I mean, come on, I’m a good time.

But after all, we did make it the rest of the night (until 4am again) without even a goodbye kiss.

It was getting pretty ridiculous. I had already begun planning our wedding day and he hadn’t even reached for my hand under a blanket. And now, looking back, I think that the speed that our relationship picked up once we actually realized we were in one, directly correlates to how slowly I felt that we moved at the very beginning.

Day seven…

Three years and five months ago to this day (I started this blog on the 15th)…

LoDown came up for her visit. I quickly explained to her that Burny had purchased a plane ticket so that he could stay in town an extra night to hang out with us. She nearly smacked me in the head. LD felt that it was becoming painfully obvious that he liked me, but again, I just couldn’t be sure.

So that afternoon, while LD and I were out and about, we stopped by his house to say hello. He was very friendly towards LD, making an amazing first impression, and because he just so happened to be playing guitar when we stopped by… I got to hear him play for the very first time that day.

Well… that’s not entirely true. I had heard him play live that one time so many years ago… and I had heard all three of his albums… but I had never heard him play just for me.

He played ‘Long Goodbyes.’ If you are a fan and know the song, you know that it has a lot of cuss words in it and it goes so quickly that you have to struggle to make out the words and in a nut shell, it’s about ‘assholes and whores.’

To this day I have no idea why he chose that as his first song for me to hear him play…

He was very nervous, which I took as a sign that he really cared about what I thought. But of course it could have been because LD was there too. I didn’t want to get cocky. He didn’t look at me the entire time he played. But I was looking at him…

LD and I left and went about our business for the rest of the day. We gathered up a group of people and decided to make our little night out, a big deal. As LD and I were getting ready to go pick up Burny, I told her that I was going to get a little liquid courage under my belt and I was going to make a move! The time had come. I had stacked up enough evidence to convince myself that he wouldn’t turn away if I went in for the kiss and so I decided that tonight was the night! I was going to make this non-dating thing… a real thing.

And so we went out. To Morrison’s. It had been almost one full week and we were returning to the scene of the crime. I figured that this would be the perfect time to make my move. It almost felt serendipitous. Like we had come full circle or something romantic like that. But of course… I just couldn’t get enough beer in me fast enough.

We had a great time…

San Diego meets THOMAS!

But I just couldn’t work up the nerve…

So we headed to the next bar…Getting serious in the backseat

Kenny’s! Lucky for me, Kenny’s had BudLight too!!

And Karaoke:

Random old men love them some Wendy

So with a little bit more of that liquid courage running through my body, I asked Burny to marry me.

I kid you not. I used those exact words. I asked him to marry me.

I was flirting of course, but I think he could see the seriousness in my eyes because he laughed at me. He laughed!

I asked him again and he said no. He just flat out denied me. I was crushed.

He makes me laugh, what can I say?

I couldn’t believe he said no. I mean… at least flirt back and say yes. But no… he just wasn’t that into me. But he did reach for my hand and then before I knew what was happening to me, he had pulled me onto the dance floor. Yes… at Kenny’s. Where there is no dance floor.

Kenny's

I was obviously embarrassed, one. Crushed that he had not accepted my proposal, two. And three… too drunk to dance.

We left shortly there after and headed home. The night just wasn’t quite working out how I had planned.

Burny got LD and I a cab home, but I told him that he should probably just come back to my house with us. I had promised him a ride to the air port in the morning and so I figured that we could at least salvage the night by having one of our all night chats. If he didn’t want to marry me, I was still totally open to the ‘friend’ category in hopes that I could eventually sway him in my direction over time.

He agreed to come back to my place.

Now let me please point out to those of you who think you know where this story is headed… WE HAVE NOT EVEN KISSED YET, he has turned down my proposal, and the fact that he is at my house late into the night has not exactly been unfounded before this point! Keep your minds out of the gutter!

So while we are in the cab… LD and I in the backseat and Burny in the front…

Cab ride...

I decide that I am going to text message Burny… even though he is literally two feet away from me…

Hey… I was feeling a little disheartened after the denial earlier and although I was not completely ready to give up, I was still feeling shy.

I text him:

I have a crush on you.

I heard his phone go off. I saw him pull it out of his pocket, look at it, and put it away again.

He didn’t look over the seat and give me a look. He didn’t text me back. Nothing.

Strike two!

When we got home, the three of us sat on the floor of my kitchen and ate the taco bell that we had paid the cab driver to take us to go get. After taco bell, I stormed up to my room in protest. LD and Burny followed, and they both crawled in bed with me.

Please people!! This is not going where it seems to be going! This is the first time that Burny had even seen the inside of my room!!!  It was perfectly innocent.

So I was laying in the middle of my great friend LD and the future love of my life, Burny. We were quietly pretending to go to sleep when I decided to make one last-ditch effort at a love connection.

I LOUDLY whispered:

“Lo!!”

Lo answered back with a giggle and a ‘what?’

“I really like this guy… what should I do?”

Lo giggled again, but I felt Burny smile on the other side of me. I could hear his head moving on the pillow in the dark.

“I think you should kiss him,” LD suggested.

“What if he’s a bad kisser?” It was a legit concern. I mean, he was wonderful in every other way… how could he possibly be any good at kissing?

“You should still try it out and see,” LD urged again.

And so I did.

I made the move. I kissed him. And I assure you, he was a perfectly wonderful kisser. I even went so far as to give the results of the kiss to LD, who was still waiting on the other side of me for a full report.

Don’t worry… Burny and I went back out onto the landing and left LD alone to go to sleep. We didn’t put her through the awkwardness of hearing us making out for long. But before we left the room, I made sure to make one thing abundantly clear to Burny:

“I want you…” I started, unsure of how exactly to phrase what I wanted to say and yet, pretty sure I was off to the wrong start…

…”But I want to be your girlfriend.”

Burny smiled again and kissed me. It felt like we had been waiting years for that first kiss…

“Okay,” he said…

“Starting now.”

And so it was. We were boyfriend and girlfriend. It was the easiest relationship I’ve ever gotten myself into. No games, no gimmicks. Just pure excitement and honest intentions. And just as I had anticipated, I’ve never returned to ‘the market’ since that night. Exactly one year and one day later… I became his wife.

My wedding vows:

Thomas-

Four days after our first date, I said to my sister and my Maid of Honor, “If this guy actually likes me, I’m going to marry him.”

Six days after our first date… I asked you to marry me. You laughed at me and said no. But later that same night I tried a different approach and said: “I want to be your girlfriend.”

You didn’t say no and you didn’t laugh. You said: “Starting now.”

Today, almost two years to the day of that first date, I ask you again: Please marry me, because I want to be your wife. Starting now.

Falling in love with you has been the easiest thing that I’ve ever done. And I have only just begun to know what it is to love you. I never dreamed love could be like this. You have made me believe that I deserve love like this.

Loving you has never been the question; it’s always been the answer. The answer to my dreams, to my prayers and to every other question in my heart.

Thomas, you have shown me that romance is in the jokes and in the mishaps, and wrong turns, and even way out in the wilderness. Romance doesn’t have to be a preconceived notion. I know love isn’t perfect. But you have given me romance. And you have given me love.

You have taught me that it is okay to rewrite the old fairy tale, to find my own happily ever after. Who knew that a small town country boy, with a gun and a guitar would turn out to be my Prince Charming?

But most importantly, you remind me everyday that love is a journey not a destination. It’s hard and rough and sometimes we get lost, but as long as we have each other, we will find the right path for us. This is our journey, Thomas. Starting now.

You are the best man, the best friend, the best partner that I could ever hope to find. And I promise before God and our friends and family that I will work everyday to be a better woman, a better friend, and a better partner for you.

I love you with all of me.

I will always stand by you, Thomas, no matter what our happily ever after brings. Through hard and harder times, through children and grandchildren, through life and through death, I will be there with you.

I will be the one to hold your hand. Forever.

Thank you for loving me, Thomas. I will make you glad everyday that you do.

You sent me this quote in a text message the night you graduated basic training and it really sums it all up: Love never gives up and its faith hope and patience never fail.

 

 

Our original witnesses:

A pirate’s life for me

29 Aug

Imagine it…

I’m sitting in a boat that seats 4 across and there are about 7 rows. I’ve been instructed to keep my hands and arms inside the boat at all times.

No matter what.

I mean, to be fair, they don’t really specifically mention the feet or legs, but the message was clear enough to me.

So we are floating along, D’Monk and I (among others), and things are going well. There are fireflies and a banjo and I’m feeling overall really relaxed.

There is a very specific smell…

Kind of like mold and chlorine. It sounds gross, but it’s really not. I love it. And whenever I smell it, wherever I am, I always think of this place and I smile.

Suddenly, there is a voice. It’s scary, I’m not going to lie. And it’s talking nonsense. Threatening me to be honest with you.

And then we are falling. I may or may not have put my arms up, even though they have advised us not to… and even though I can’t really see the roof.

What can I say? They have convinced me it’s nighttime in the Caribbean. I can’t accurately assess the risk.

So now we are totally transported. I mean I am there.

I hear singing… I see dead people. And not in a 6th Sense kind of way. We are talking skeletons. It’s legit.

There is a storm and I can feel the rain (nearly) and then we are in a bar and literally… a skeleton is drinking a beer and it is going right through him. I can see it. I mean, this place is totally crazy.

Anyway, so we are cruising along, and we go through this dark cave and the scary voice is back. I’m not sure what it’s saying, but again, it’s threatening and I’m starting to take it personally.

But before I can do anything, we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a battle between two HUGE ships. We are talking swords drawn, words being exchanged and cannon balls flying from one side to the next. Granted, I can’t see the actual cannon balls but I do see the splashes and they are too close for comfort. It’s really dark and based on what I have been seeing thus far, I’m pretty sure these men have been drinking.

So after we make it through that nightmare, and I’m not even sure how we do it, we find ourselves in this little village where these mean men from the ships have taken hostages. It’s not pretty, let me warn you, but they are nearly drowning a man while his wife watches from a window above.

I mean, that’s just horrid.

And then…

…another voice cuts in. It’s not the same scary voice as before. No, this time it’s a woman and it seems rather out of place. As a matter of fact, all the yelling and threatening and lovely singing these mean men have been demonstrating stops dead at the sound of her voice… But one thing remains the same. It’s still threatening…

“Keep your hands and arms inside the boat at all times.”

And as soon as she is done talking… the singing, yelling and carrying on picks up as if there has been no interruption.

It happens so quickly I’m not sure that it really did happen at all. But it doesn’t take me long to get swept back into the moment with the drowning man.

And then, just around the bend we see another mean man from the ships and he is auctioning off women, if you can believe that! I mean, I really thought we were past that in this country, but to be honest, I’m pretty sure we are now near Spain or something based on the accents.

So this guy is very rudely auctioning off this overweight woman who is tied to him, like she is truly a slave, and then I realize something…

We’ve been watching this auction for quite some time. The men across the river seem to be making bids, but the auctioneer does not seem to be taking anything.

As a matter of fact, he is repeating himself…

Something is very wrong here…

And then the voice again:

“Please stay seated at all times”

And again the music and uproar quit as if perfectly in sync with the woman’s voice. And as soon as she is done speaking… it’s back to business as usually.

But now we are being bumped from behind. Other boats, having just avoided the same terrible fate we have just escaped between the dueling ships, are running into us. One after another after another. And we are stopped because the boats in front of us are stopped as well.

What are the chances that so many of us would survive such a situation?

And then the voice:

“Stay in your boats at all times.”

Okay, lady, we get it! Trust me, I’m in no hurry to get out of my boat under the circumstances. I mean, there is truly a war happening around us.

“Stay in your boats!”

This time she means it.

D’Monk turns to me and laughs. “Do you think someone got out?”

Who can know for sure?

Suddenly, we see two teenage kids run across the bridge in front of us. What the F is going on here? They certainly did not seem to be dressed like their friends and MAN were they moving quickly. Compaired to the other pirates that is.

And then, without warning, the lights go on!

Yes! It’s true! Turns out we were not at all in the Caribbean and it was not even NIGHT TIME as we had been led to believe. As it would happen, we were ACTUALLY in what appeared to be a warehouse!

And although the music, talking, yelling, etc had stopped, the angry men from the ships had not.

They moved around ever so slowly, and ever so silently. And I can promise you this… those guys are A LOT more frightening in the light than they are in the assumed Caribbean darkness. They have CRAZY eyes and literally, they move incredibly oddly.

Well, before we know it… another man, dressed in the same uniform as the men who helped us board all that time ago, passes along the same route as the kids had. In pursuit, I’m sure.

And at this point, honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if anything is real at all…

The voice:

“Please get back in your boats- stay in your- DO NOT get out of your boats.”

“Oh God,” D’Monk says, laughing.

“Please stop running around and return to your boat.”

“Please do not do that. Please get back in your boats. Stop running. Stop running and return to your boat.”

Talk about ruining the magic.

With the lights on… the woman’s voice… and the kids running around…

I am 99% sure that these scary ship men are all just actors and they aren’t even really at war!

Consider my mind blown.

Well, needless to say, the teens either returned to their boats or were tackled by the wannabe pirate and the lights go back off and everything returns to normal in the Caribbean.

But I have to be honest… I just could not get back in the mood after that. I just doubted everything I saw from that point on. Everything really does look different by the light of day…

I mean… it’s pretty silly to think that one man could balance so many hats on his head or that an entire building could be burning around us and I wouldn’t feel any heat… I guess I should have thought of that anyway, but it was all so clear to me now…

And I had this odd suspicion that I was being watched…

I’m still not completely sure what happened to me that night… or day… but it was very strange.

And that’s why I blog…

I can’t imagine too many other people have seen the Pirate’s of the Caribbean with the lights on. 🙂

Tim

9 Jun

I have to tell you as I start this blog I’m not entirely sure where to begin…

I have been thinking about this for some time now, sure it needed to be said, but not sure how to say it. I intended to write this on Mother’s day… as it would be the three-year anniversary… but I guess I wasn’t really ready yet.

I’m ready now.

This is definitely a ‘Tearin’ up my heart Tuesday’ type post. Be warned. This will be hard to read.

When I met MacTen a million years ago, I knew only a few things about her. She was a freshman in college and I, a junior. She was to play my girlfriend in what would become the most life changing piece of theatre I have ever been a part of. And of course I knew then that we were destined to be best friends. I knew this very quickly about her… it didn’t hurt that we were quickly tossed into this complete emotional upheaval, and would grow to need each other in such a desperate way (as always… another blog), but there was just something truly honest about her. This is slightly ironic because if you ask her, she would tell you that she doesn’t think she is the most honest of people. And that’s not to say she lies. I don’t know if I’ve ever been on the receiving end of a lie from her… but all the same, she can’t always admit the truth. Mostly to herself.

But there was one thing that was true about MacTen…

She had once loved a boy named Tim… In this case, I don’t see it fitting to give Tim a blog name.

When I met MacTen, she had just begun a relationship with a fellow we will call SomethingMoore. She talked about him often, she was obviously very excited about this new relationship, but very early on she compared him to Tim. I didn’t know Tim… I had never met him, and truthfully, at the time I didn’t ask a lot of questions. Freshmen in college often have Tim’s at home. But there was something about this guy… something behind the story. And sure enough, in time, I would come to know what that something was.

When MacTen and I were traveling through the grand continent of Europe, we got to know each other. If you have ever spent two months of every single waking hour with someone (and not always the most pleasant of waking hours), than you know that there is no helping knowing that person at the end of such a journey. And a huge part of MacTen that I got to know over the course of those two months… was Tim.

I had already pieced together a lot of the story before I even asked her any questions. Tim had clearly broken her heart. We were no longer friends with Tim. He was dating a horrid beast now, whom he of course cheated on MacTen with, and we hated both their guts. But all the same… I could just tell that MacTen had only the best of feelings for this Tim, whom she hated. So of course, all this begged the question:

What’s the deal with Tim?

A long three to four year story short, told over the course of several of our nights in hostels is this: MacTen met an older guy named Tim in high school. He more or less joined her family for the term of their relationship. He had a hard family situation, not necessarily close with his mother, and his father was ill for a time. Because of this, he chose to immerse himself in her world. He was absolutely adored by our mutual friend Raps, Mac’s family and everyone else who knew him. He was not a bad guy, as I had originally thought. As a matter of fact, when Mac was telling me about her relationship with Tim, I couldn’t help but forget entirely that it had an unhappy ending. Tim was Mac’s first love, but it was a very intense and real first love. I could tell, having experienced something similar myself, that she still harbored a deep love for him… even as she told me about him years after ending all contact with him.

The relationship took a turn when Tim met the horrid beast, who he ultimately left Mac for. He became distant, and try as she might, Mac simply could not salvage the relationship. He left her. He just up and pulled himself out of her life entirely for this other girl like a drain from a bathtub. And for a year or so after the fact, Mac tried to be what he needed not knowing exactly what that was. And Tim, unfortunately used her, although I could see that it was because he couldn’t figure out how to let her go either. They were attached to each other. Mixed. But of course, as all things do, Tim and Mac finally did end for good. And as she told me this, it had been years since that had happened. No contact. None at all. And it was so sad to hear her talk about that time. It has to be said that Mac is one of the most giving and genuine people I have ever met and I could see the real pain in her at having not been able to fix Tim. Mac and I are the same in that way; we are fixers. And we fail more than we fix, though not due to lack of effort.

I remember feeling a deeper connection to Mac after having heard the entire Tim saga. I remember feeling like I knew or understood her better. And I think it would be the same for Tim, if someone were to hear about his MacTen. And more than anything, I remember feeling sorry and sad for Tim. It seemed like his life had just taken such a terrible turn with this new girl, and I remember thinking that he had just been swept away. I even remembered certain times when Raps would bring up his name in such a way that made it sound like she really missed him and cared for him as a friend, and although I had never met him, after hearing it all, I felt the same way.

I bring all this up because it is crucial to the story. Tim was such a building block in the foundation that was my best friend. And his named carried so much weight. Just the mention of him begged no more questions, just emotion. I know it sounds dramatic, but that was the way it was. Tread lightly with that heavy topic.

For example, after returning home from Europe armed with all the information, I remember a night when Mac said to Raps and I:

Tim is engaged.

We knew to who. We knew what that meant. We knew how that broken a part of her. There was no need for any questions. Drinks, yes. But no questions.

A time later:

‘She’ broke off the engagement.

We knew who ‘she’ was. We knew what that meant. Raps and I now had MANY questions, but they couldn’t be asked. As I mentioned before, Mac wasn’t always honest with herself, and she wouldn’t have answered our questions honestly. Keep in mind, she had now been dating SomethingMoore for a few years. Throwing Tim back into the mix… Raps and I could only imagine what that would mean.

And then one day, quite literally out of the blue, I got a call from Mac. She was in quite a state and it was a very brief conversation but she said that Tim had called her. I remember hanging up and thinking: Oh my God. What does this mean? Here we go…

I even mentioned to a friend whom I happened to be with that the Earth had just changed directions.

 After some piecing together of the story, I figured out that Tim had contacted Mac’s parents after all that time to try to get ahold of Mac. To be frank, I could not believe the BALLS that took. Mac’s parents had to hold their little girl together for months after Tim left. They had to literally turn their back on someone who they had taken into their home. Tim had become one of the family and then had just up and betrayed them all and then disappeared. And then, years later, he calls to apologise. I just couldn’t believe it.

As a matter of fact, I remember it now, I believe he told her parents to either pass on a message or pass on his phone number. He knew that it would be too much to ask to contact her directly. He knew, even then, that he didn’t deserve it. I believe that’s what Mac told me when she called. That he had called her parents. Either way, it was very clear to all of us that Tim was back. In what capacity, that would remain to be seen, but he was back.

Mac’s relationship with SomethingMoore had been a little rocky, that needs to be said, but Tim was always going to be the deal breaker. I think Moore knew that as well as any of us. And sure enough, the relationship was put on hold as soon as Tim returned. None of us expected anything less, and none of us really blamed her for a second. This was Tim. This was different.

Of course Mac contacted him. She saw him. She heard him out. And I don’t want to say that she fell for him again because that would infer that she hadn’t always loved him which would be false. The only HUGE warning sign for me was the horrid beast. She had broken it off with him. He had moved back to San Diego (from Colorado I believe) and he had never been by himself. The last person he trusted and loved before her was Mac. So of course, she would be the likely choice for support. It all made sense. But it all scared the shit out of me. I knew Mac was just like me; I knew she would not guard her heart like the circumstances called for. And before long, Tim was completely mixed back into her life. They saw each other regularly. They kissed. They were in constant contact.

I remember one time she told me that he had left her a message and the only thing on the message was the song ‘The Reason’ by Hoobastank.

“I’m not a perfect person

There’s many things I wish I didn’t do

But I continue learning

I never meant to do those things to you

And so I have to say before I go…”

I’ll never hear that song without thinking of Tim.

Then, there was a package left on Mac’s doorstep. It was a card with a letter continuing his ever-present apology for the way things had gone in their relationship years before. And included was a framed picture from a trip that the two of them had been on while together. I have to say that I found this incredibly strange. I just thought that it was really unusual that he would come all the way across San Diego to drop something off on her porch when he knew she was inside asleep. It became even more unusual when Mac figured out that he had slept in his car outside of her house most of the night. I mean, I had still not met Tim personally, but I was very weary of all of this. Of course Mac was- for the most part- unconcerned and even Raps put my mind at ease telling me that “I just didnt’ know Tim.”

It would soon become all too apparent that none of us really knew Tim.

At a certain point, the horrid beast came back into the picture and Tim once again wanted to cut off all ties with Mac upon the other woman’s request. This didn’t really hold like it had in the past, but it was heartbreaking all the same. Needless to say, it was most upsetting because it was expected. In the end, all the back and forth between Mac and Tim went on for no longer than a month.

On the Wednesday before Mother’s Day that year, Mac received a very normal message from Tim. He asked her to call him back but also may have mentioned that he was sure she wouldn’t. I believe her plan was not to. Not after the yo-yo game he had been playing with her heart.

Then it was Mother’s Day… only a few short days later.

Mac, Raps, LoDown and I were house sitting together near La Jolla. Raps had a co-worker who was always leaving town and who was always willing to offer up her house for ‘girls nights’ in her absence. We girls always took full advantage, and on this particular evening, we were very much enjoying having the place to ourselves; just the four of us. (Looking back, it’s so serendipitous that it happened this way). It was something of a ‘goodbye’ weekend as well. LoDown and I were only two weeks away from moving back to Northern California and leaving San Diego for good. It had already been a very sad time for the four of us close friends, and the whole Tim thing had really only added to the sadness. I already felt terribly guilty for leaving my best friend in the middle of this huge crisis situation revolving around Tim and his girl (which is how I saw it anyway).

We were all just arriving in La Jolla that night, around nine o’clock, and when Mac walked into the house she had her phone up to her ear. She wasn’t talking, but she motioned for us to be quite while she listed. A message.

It was Jennifer, Tim’s sister.

Basically the message said that Tim had not called her yet today, and being that it was Mother’s Day and Tim and Jenn were close, she was concerned. She still lived back in Colorado and she trusted and knew Mac well, so she was wondering if Mac would try to track him down for her. Of course Jenn did not know what the current situation with Mac and Tim was, but of course that didn’t matter. Mac said that she sounded concerned, and we all knew that this was not like Tim, so Mac quickly dialed Tim’s number.

He didn’t answer.

I remember standing in the living room of this house and thinking, “Something is wrong.” I could tell that Mac thought so too by the tone of her voice, but as soon as the thought entered my head, I pushed it out again. People don’t answer their phones. People forget Mother’s Day. That doesn’t mean anything. I took a breath and sat down in the oversized chair across from the couch. Mac, Raps and Lo all sat down on the couch across from me, Mac in the middle. I can picture it as clearly as ever.

Raps took over the calls, knowing that Mac was upset, and Lo and I took on the job of suggesting out loud places that Tim could be, or scenarios that would cause him to not answer his phone. Looking back, this seems odd. If one of my friends didn’t answer the phone, I wouldn’t feel the need to convince myself that they were okay. I think we all already knew…

Raps called Tim’s best friend and had a brief conversation with him. He was unconcerned but Raps told him that Jenn was looking for Tim and if he could try to find him, that would be helpful. He agreed. He also said that he had just seen Tim on Thursday. Apparently, this group of guy friends from high school (Tim included) were very close. Back in high school a close friend of theirs had died in a car accident. Thursday was the anniversary of this friends death and they had all gone out to the grave together and had had a drink on his behalf. Tim’s friend said that he had dropped Tim off at his apartment afterwards.

Raps told the friend to call her with any news and then Raps called another close friend of Tim’s. He didn’t answer. As we were sitting there discussing what could have happened, Raps got a text message from the friend she had just called. It said (more or less):

I just found out. I can’t talk.

Raps read this out loud. I remember looking at Lo and seeing the same look on her face that I felt in my heart. Mac just seemed confused. I guess we all were.

Raps texted back asking for more information. No answer. My heart was pounding. Raps called the friend again and this time he answered. I’ll never forget the conversation.

Raps asked him what was going on. Of course I could only see and hear Raps side of the conversation, but it seemed that there was no answer on the other end. She then asked if he knew where Tim was and told him that Jenn was looking for him. Then she seemed to get angry as if the friend on the phone knew where Tim was and was hiding something. Raps yelled at him and said “If you know where he is, this is fucked up. Jenn is really worried.”

Then something happened that I’ll never forget.

There was a pause and then Raps face totally changed. In an instant she stood straight up and yelled into the phone “What does that mean?” And she kept repeating it. Then she sat right back down again. I will never forget that. She shot right up out of her seat and then sat right back down again. It was so jarring and so telling. My heart sank and tears immediately fell down my cheeks. It was such a knee jerk reaction. Before I had even registered sadness, tears had covered my face. I knew.

Raps hung up the phone and her voice was shaking. Her whole body was shaking. Mac just kept looking at her and then at Lo and I. I stood up and moved to the table in front of the couch. I grabbed Mac and Raps hands, ready for whatever Raps was about to say, although I already knew. And Mac just kept looking at me, crying, and Raps, shaking, and she just looked so confused. It was as if her mind was literally blocking the information from processing. Her eyebrows even furrowed when she looked at me like she was completely lost as to what was going on. I think she even asked me why I was crying.

Raps said that the friend on the phone had said (more or less):

“They found a body, but we don’t know if it’s Tim.”

This was what made Raps shoot up out of her seat. At hearing her get upset the friend began repeating “We don’t know if  it’s Tim. It might not be Tim.” He couldn’t believe it either. I guess he had just found out only a few minutes before our call.

To be honest, I don’t know if Mac really broke down completely at that moment. It all became such a rush. Raps just kept repeating the friend’s words: It might not be Tim. But then she also said that the body in question was at Tim’s apartment. Tim lived alone. I just remember nodding. Nodding and crying and holding onto them. I knew what this meant… but I couldn’t say it out loud. I didn’t want to be the one. And my mind kept fighting against itself. I couldn’t even really wrap my head around it myself. I remember asking Raps several times, “Where are they taking him.” I still didn’t want to believe that a ‘body’ was a ‘dead body’. I wanted to hold onto the idea that he was just hurt. I think that I even said, “They found him in time.”

To me that says that I knew exactly how they found him. As much as it didn’t make any sense at all… it all made perfect sense.

Tim was gone. And he had done it on purpose.

If I recall correctly, there was another call made to the best friend whom we had talked to first. He still hadn’t heard and was really alarmed at how upset Raps was. He, too, just could not believe it. He promised to get more information. I can’t remember how much time passed or how we actually got the confirmation but it was true. Tim had committed suicide.

Shortly after we had found out for sure, Mac’s phone rang again. It was Jenn. Mac immediately broke down and freaked out. She said she couldn’t be the one to tell her that her brother had… (Mac still couldn’t even say it). Of course not. We let Jenn leave a message and then I was the one to listen to it. Again, one more thing I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

She sounded calm and shocked. There was a slight waver in her voice as she spoke, but she already sounded exhausted. She said (more or less):

“This is Jenn…

 I just got a call from the police and Tim…

… committed suicide…

I haven’t talked to anyone yet but I’ll keep you posted about… whats happening.”

It was just devastating. I erased the message, hung up and said: “She knows.”

The rest of the night was such a blur. To remember the exact details of part of the night and then not at all the rest is somehow very strange. I think that’s part of being in shock. We were all definitely in shock. I do recall SomethingMoore coming over for support. After all, although he was not Mac’s first love… she was most definitely his. I also remember calling Mac’s mom at some point and telling her to come over. Although I think that we told her over the phone what was going on, I remember when she arrived we all met her in the front yard…

Mac ran out to her near the car and I remember her specifically saying: “He’s not… No… No… No.” With each ‘no’ she understood a little more… and she broke down. She has said that she always thought of Tim as a son and she was just as devastated when he left their family as Mac was. She loved him too. And she just could not believe that he would so such a thing.

We must have rehashed all the details 100 times that night. We cried, we yelled, we even laughed a little. After a while, a flood of texts begin to come to both Raps and Mac’s phones. The group from high school was suddenly reconnecting again. Everyone was trying to make sense of it… and trying to figure out what to do next. They planned to meet the following day at Garden Road… which had been their hang out since the beginning of time.

The next day, Lo and I were brought into this group of mourning friends. It was so strange to be on the outside. I had still never met Tim, but knowing Mac was knowing Tim and everyone there seemed to know that. Some of the guys cried, some were pissed like I was… and even when the horrid beast (whom Tim seemed to blame in his final letter- or at least that’s the gist I got) showed up, everyone welcomed her in. Even if she had been a bad influence on him, or had broken his heart… it wasn’t her fault.

When someone does this, there is such a range of emotions that everyone goes through. Everyone has their own journey of course, but it effects everyone on some level. Even people like me, who never actually met him… it has changed my life. I will forever have had gone through this with Mac and the rest of his friends and family. And it’s hard for me to believe that Tim had no idea the pain he would cause so many people. Personally, I felt angry. Some people feel disbelief… a lot of people are in denial. Some are sad and some feel guilty or responsible. I know that his best friend, the one who we had to break the news to, had been the last person that Tim called as it turns out. He will have to live with that for the rest of his life. He will have to live knowing that if he had just answered his phone that one time… maybe things would be different. That’s not fair. That makes me so angry.

I have been depressed. Obviously I’m not going to compare my suffering to Tim’s, but I’ve been cheated on, broken, emotionally beaten, left, betrayed… we all have had it bad sometimes. But how bad does it have to be where you think that there is NO WAY it will EVER be better? How bad does it have to be where it’s worth putting your friends and family through what we all went through? How can that not be considered?

We never found out how he did it. That’s always the question: How did he do it? We don’t know. Those who knew wouldn’t tell Mac. They wouldn’t tell her because they said that they wished they didn’t know.

The police found him. They had to break down his door at the request of a friend. He was in there. He had left a note. And that’s the other thing… I guess the note was two pages. How do you sit down and write out a two page suicide note and then still go through with it? Isn’t that enough catharsis? Isn’t that enough to snap you out of it? I guess I will never understand this.

And the whole time I kept thinking… this isn’t just anyone… this is Tim. This is Mac’s Tim.

The day after, when Tim’s ex-fiance showed up at the gathering, she only made it as far as the curb. Although no one blamed her out loud, I can only imagine the guilt she must have been feeling. It’s not fair. After about ten minutes of her crying on the curb in front of the house, Mac stood up and walked over to her and hugged her. After all the pain that this girl had caused Mac… she still was the bigger person and knew that they were both suffering a huge loss. She hugged her.

The girlfriend said to Mac: He loved you.

It’s not fair.

I wanted to tell this story because I think it needs to be told. I didn’t see this coming. It’s always a shock when someone does this, but looking back, all the signs were there. Tim was going back into his past and trying to right his wrongs. Tim was depressed and desperate. Tim was acting erratically… sleeping outside Mac’s house. He was giving away important things to him. It was all there. But it’s so hard to admit that to ourselves. It’s hard to see and it’s so hard to accept that someone might be thinking the worst…

Tim’s dad killed himself a few weeks later. Now Jenn is alone. To me, this is even worse. How can you see all the pain and suffering that Tim caused… how can you feel it for yourself… and then go ahead and do the same thing. I think about Jenn often and what she must have gone through… what she still goes through. It’s not fair.

This has been a huge lesson to me. I trid to be a better friend because of it. I wanted to make sure that I always offered myself to everyone at all times. And I wish I could say that I will never let this happen to another friend, but it already has… a good friend. That is another blog as well. Bnd despite all this, I know that it’s not my fault if I miss something… it’s not my choice. But I can only hope that maybe someone out there listening will not make the same choice that Tim made. I hope you stay for another day. It may seem so, but life really isn’t that bad… and it has to get better. It just has to. And if you don’t want to be here anymore… just KNOW that SOMEONE wants you here. Probably a lot of someones…

I promise you… life is worth living.

I know this is heavy, but like I said, it’s important. I hope I made you think… and more than anything, I hope none of you have to go through this. But if you do, just know that… It isn’t fair. And it’s not your fault.

The white dress disaster

31 May

Every bride knows… and those of you who have yet to be a bride… you know too:

The dress is a big deal.

It might not be the BIGGEST deal for EVERY bride, but it definitely falls under the BIG DEAL category when it comes to the wedding day. Even as a guest, you probably know this. Even as a MAN you probably know this. I know my husband had to learn this the hard way…

I am writing this blog today for two reasons: 1) it’s Magical Monday which means that although this story has somewhat of an unfortuniate twist, it does have a magical ending and 2) A year ago yesterday, I wore that very special white dress as I walked down the aisle towards Burny (well not exactly, because he wasn’t standing there… but that’s another story). I was going to talk about my wedding day but I didn’t want to put the cart before the horse. Before the wedding day, before the jitters- and in my case, before the ring- there is a dress. And because I have such a crazy story (shocking I know) about MY dress, I thought that I should tell that before I get into the actual grand event.

So my dress…

Or should I say dress number one.

Now, let me just say real quick… I know there are many brides who end up with more than one dress before the big day. I was actually very surprised how many women don’t end up in their original dress… but more than not, that is because the bride has had a change of heart. I must point out at this point that I am not that girl. I was not a bridezilla. I was not a needy bride. I wasn’t a fickle bride. My dress delima, was NOT my choice.

So as I mentioned before, in my particular case, the wedding dress came before the ring. So you can see now why I don’t want to put the cart before the horse… I’ve already been there, done that.

I WAS dating Burny, I must say, but we hadn’t been dating long. Because Burny had been toying with the military- nearly joining just before we met- the subject of marriage came up pretty early on in our relationship. Burny and I met in high school so we were not exactly strangers when we started dating 6 years later, but even still, the discussion of whether or not to get married was brought up MUCH sooner than would normally be the case. I knew that he was going to join the Air Force in one capacity or another and so that meant I had to decided if we were going to stay casual and break up when he left, or take it to the next level and ultimately commit for life. I know that sounds really scary and rushed, but I knew on our first date that I was going to marry him. The rest was just details.

So anyway, although we were not officially engaged, we had already discussed getting married, and we both knew that it was all just a matter of time. Even still, I did not go to the mall that day to buy a wedding dress. I did not even go to the mall to go wedding dress shopping. I just went to the mall with my friend, Lark, to catch up. Of course once Lark heard about our little wedding conversation, she nearly shoved me into Jessica MaClintock. Of course I had no intention at all of even trying on dresses, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone to look.

And there it was.

THE dress.

It was hanging on the wall in the back of the store and it was perfect. To be honest, I wasn’t even one of those girls who has dreamed about her wedding dress her whole life. I hadn’t really put any thought at all into what I would look like on my big day. I didn’t know anything about ball gowns or halter tops or A-lines. I was totally clueless. But I did know one thing; that dress was amazing.

I pulled it down off the wall to get a closer look. There was only one of this particular style, but it was my size. What are the odds? It only took one look at Lark, and she was shoving me into a dressing room and pulling the curtain closed.

“This is ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t”

“This has got to be bad luck.”

“No it’s not.”

No matter what I said, Lark wasn’t going to hear it. So I tried on the dress.

It was made for me.

I came out of the dressing room and Lark just smiled. Of course the two store attendants oohed and awed appropriately. I stepped in front of the mirror and was just so shocked. Had I found my wedding dress? This was totally absurd! Where was the crying? Where were the crowds of people? Where was my Mom? 

So I called her.

Luckily for me, she worked only a few blocks from the mall and she was nearly off. I told her to come to the mall because I thought I had found my wedding dress. Of course she was totally floored. I had only just brought up the idea of Burny and I getting married, we had only been dating like a month or so, but all the same, she came.

I tried on the dress again and she couldn’t help but agree. It was perfect. It was to the floor, no train and it was satin. It was just shinny without being annoying and it was simple. It had a deep V-neck with thicker straps and there was a seam that ran from the bottom of the V-neck to my lower stomach, which caused the dress to gather down the front. In the back, it was lace from the top of my shoulders to my lower back. Stunning. That was my favorite part. And of course there was nothing under the dress to make it poofy- I knew that in the very least I wasn’t going to be a ‘poofy bride’- but there was extra fabric at the bottom so that the dress moved.

It was just perfect. And it was only $250!!

Of course my Mom decided that I would be crazy to just buy the first dress that I tried on so she pulled a bunch of different kinds into the dressing room and made me go through the motions. I tried on ball gowns, and A-lines and simple styles. None of which even came close to comparing to the first. 

I finally made a decision. My sister was coming to town the following day from San Diego and I thought it would only be fair, as my Maid of Honor, for her to be a part of the picking process. So I put a few dresses on hold- including the obvious choice- and came back the next day with my sister, Mother and another friend.

Of course we went through the motions again. I tried on all the dresses that were held for me, and then I tried on some more. My sister starting trying on bridesmaid dresses next to my dresses to try to figure out what she was going to where. All the while the store attendants were asking questions about the wedding date and my fiance… yea, about that. 🙂

So needless to say, we ended up buying that very first dress that I saw on the wall. It was the perfect ‘wedding on the beach’ dress, which at the time was my plan. MacTen, via phone pictures, said that that dress was very “Me”. I think that’s the best thing I could have heard. And we all agreed that it was just perfect and it fit fantastically and worst case scenario, I could always sell it on Ebay. Come one, it was only $250!!

Now I had a wedding dress, some really good ideas about what my bridesmaids would wear and still no ring or engagement. Believe it or not, that wouldn’t come for nearly another year as it turned out. I guess I really jumped the gun. But regardless, I loved that dress and it hung faithfully in the closet just waiting.

Skip forward (I’ll tell you about the amazing proposal another time) to six weeks before the wedding, almost two years later.

All the details were worked out. Girls had their dresses (which also didn’t end up looking anything like the dresses at the store), the location was set (NOT on the beach but in Woodland at my in law’s house) and the shoes were picked (flip-flops instead of barefoot, like I thought while in the store that day)… See how things can change girls?? 🙂

Because I was now going to be wearing flip-flops officially, I decided that it wouldn’t hurt to have my dress raised just a hair in the front. I really didn’t need anything else done to it. I wanted the back of the gown to flow out behind me, and the dress still fit me like a dream, so all I really needed was a little room so that I wouldn’t be stepping on the front. Of course I pondered even messing with it for weeks before I decided that yes, I was going to have the front taken up just a tad.

Being who I am, I decided to give my business to the local bridal shop, instead of going back to Jessica’s.

I WENT TO NINA’S ON MAIN STREET, WOODLAND CALIFORNIA, 95695

… in case you’re wondering.

I’m standing in the dress, in front of the mirror and this is EXACTLY what I told the girl in the store:

“I DON’T want my feet to show, but I DON’T want to step on the dress. DO NOT touch the back.”

Of course as she is translating this information to the Spanish-speaking woman at my feet, she convinces me to have the dress taken in around my arm pits. Sure, whatever. Sounds good.

The woman at my feet puts ONE pin in my dress. Right in front. I reiterate that I DO NOT want my feet to show when I’m standing. After some translation, the woman at my feet holds the pined portion of the dress to the floor and in fact, you can not see my feet.

Great!

I have to say that it did surprise me that she only put ONE pin in the dress. But of course, what do I know? I’ve never stitched a thing in my life. This is her business. This is what she does. Who am I to tell her how to do her job? So I say nothing and leave with the promise of a perfectly altered dress in a week.

A week goes by, no word.

A week and a half goes by…

Now we are 4 1/2 weeks from the wedding and I am getting nervous. So I call Nina. She apologizes for not calling- they got busy- but yes, my dress is ready. She invites me to come in the following day to try on the dress. I call my Mom, we make a plan to go in, I schedule my hair trial so that I can see what my hair will look like with my dress. My Mom and I go to Nina’s (on Main St. in Woodland) and we wait until finally someone helps us. They take the dress out of its bag and the first thing I notice is that it’s wrinkled. When people hem things, generally they steam them too… but whatever. Who cares. So I go to put the dress on and I get stuck by a pin. Okay… sometimes pins get left in the dresses… so I pull it out and I realize that NOTHING has been done to my dress. Nothing. The dress still has it’s pins under my arm pits, the dress is still pined with the one pin in the front… literally my dress has not been touched in a week and a half. But not only that, the girl on the phone said she looked at my dress, it was done, and invited me to come in and try it out. WHAT!??!!

Needless to say, I was livid.

Nina comes over and tries to sooth the situation. She says that there was nother Wendy with an order and the girl on the phone got confused and etc,etc. She has no explanation as to why she told me it would take a week and now it’s a week and a half later and the thing hasn’t been touched, but she does assure me that she will put a rush on it.

Thanks!

So three days pass and I get a call that my dress is  ready. I make them double-check and she says yes, it’s the right Wendy. So I call my Mom and we make a plan again, and of course we have missed the hair trial matching up with the fitting, but whatever… if my dress was done, that would be fine.

I go in, same story. It takes forever for them to get to us, but then they put the dress in the dressing room and I go inside. I check for pins. Nothing. Good sign. I put the dress over my head and it doesn’t fall to the ground… not such a good sign, but I’m thinking… maybe I just need to zip it.

Girls, brides to be, and brides that have already walked…

I come out of this dressing room with my feet showing all the way up to the ankle. NOT KIDDING. And guess what, it’s SHORTER in the BACK! The back was not even supposed to be touched! I gave specific instructions about that, and it was SHORTER in the back. Not to mention the entire hem (which had been CUT not hemmed up) was incredibly uneven. Gee… I wonder how that happened?! Could it have been the whole one-pin-is-enough thing?

I was totally shocked.

I was now standing in front of the mirror in my perfect dress that I had bought almost two years before, and I was staring at my freakin feet!

Here comes Nina.

At first she said that it’s not her fault and that these things happen. She tried to tell me that maybe this is what I asked the seamstress for. I reminded her that it was, in fact, SHE who had done the translating for me. I guess she didn’t remember me quite as well as I remembered her. And when she was explaining why the back was shorter than the front (and I mean noticeably shorter) she said that it was because of my butt. UM I’M SORRY but A) I asked you not to even TOUCH the back… I said that specifically which is why the back was never pinned and B) DOESN’T EVERY ONE HAVE A BUTT?????? SHOULDN’T YOU TAKE THAT INTO CONSIDERATION!

I was so beside myself.

Finally she admitted that she had made a mistake (AH… YEA!), but she totally threw her Spanish-speaking seamstress under the bus. Then she closed the store, asked me what my dress cost and started picking out dresses for me to try on. At this point I kind of calmed down. I thought that she was going to make it right. She had asked for the price and then she had started putting me in some dresses. I was totally under the impression that we were going to just do a little replacement action.

So my Mom and I joined in and we were all picking dresses (none of which had prices on them) and I have to admit… I made a huge mistake. I am a nice person and I felt bad for making her feel so bad and so I told her that I was kind of bored with my previous dress and was looking forward to having another one. Trust me, that came back to bite me in the ass.

It came down to three beautiful dresses. To Nina’s credit, they have some truly gorgeous dresses. One stood out more than the other two, but I would have been happy with any of them. She asked me which one I liked the best and so I picked the one that was standing out more to me, and then she took it over the cash register. She said that the one I picked was the cheapest of the three… I’m thinking… ‘okay… price is coming into it now…’

She told me the price of the dress was $650. She then added on NEW alterations ($250) AND tax and then offered to take $250 off the final total for the damages done to my wedding dress.

THAT WAS HER SUGGESTION!!

I’m sorry but she knew exactly how much my original dress cost and she pulled all three of the dresses I decided that I liked and she KNEW that she was going to make me pay full price for it! I was totally floored again. So much so that I just had to leave the store. I couldn’t even think straight. After over an hour of trying on dresses again, FOUR WEEKS before my wedding, and totally bonding with this lady, she totally slapped me in the face.

And who was home to pick up the pieces? Burny… bless his little heart. He calmed me down, after calming himself down of course, and told me that he would work it out. I can’t imagine how pissed he really must have been. We were in wedding crunch time and a bride in wedding crunch time, is not someone who can react logically or normally to anything. A bride in wedding crunch time can often be referred to as a ticking bomb. But somehow he got me to fall asleep that night.

With the threat of CunningTom (Father in law) going in to sort things out on our behalf, Burny and I returned to Nina’s the following day during business hours. That’s the key… go in during business hours if you’re planning to make a fuss. I’m not one to play dirty, but quite frankly, she left me no choice. And it worked like a charm.

At first she was not willing to back down. She kept saying that I PICKED a $650 dress and that wasn’t her fault. After some pressing she did admit that the first dress mishap WAS her fault (or her seamstress’ anyway) but she didn’t think that it was her responsibility to fix that mistake. She just kept saying “Mistakes happen.”

Burny explained to her that he used to work in construction and when they made a mistake and drilled up a road that wasn’t supposed to be drilled up… you better believe that the company went back at a LOSS and fixed their mistake. She didn’t see it that way. No. She told Burny that I was bored with my other dress anyway and wanted a new one. OUCH! Bitch! I said that to make her FEEL better.

But of course, as the conversation escalated, and more and more people were overhearing her HORRIBLE business practices, she backed down and agreed to this:

We still had to pay for the dress, but I only paid $250 because that was what I paid for my original dress. I still don’t see how this makes any sense at all because now I have paid a total of $500, but hell, at that point I just needed a dress. So I bought the dress for $250. But it’s not over…

SHE MADE ME GIVE HER MY ORIGINAL DRESS!!!!

She sold my original dress for a profit on top of ripping us off royally. My perfect dress… the dress that I had seen on the wall two years before hand… the dress that I had tried on a million times and pictured myself dancing in… MY dress… she took it. I don’t even have a picture of it. And even thought Burny did everything he could to not actually look at the dress that he was fighting for (tradition you know), I did make him look at my original dress. That was the dress that I picked out to marry him in before he had picked out the ring to give me.

And you know, she could have really benefited from all this. A corrected mistake is worth SO MUCH in a small town. Especially at a wedding. I had 8 SINGLE bridesmaids who will never shop in there. Not to mention every friend I’ve been able to spread the word to… but besides that, at a wedding, everyone asks the bride about her dress. I could have told my guests that this unfortunate mistake ruined my first dress, but that Nina so graciously replaced that dress with the beautiful one I wore (and let me tell you, it was stunning)… but no… all I have to report is a sad story about a bitch on Main st. who stole my dress and scammed me into buying a new one weeks before my wedding.

So there you have it… That is the story about my wedding dress. They say every bride has a crisis on or near her wedding day… well that was mine.

But I said this story had a happy ending, remember. Well…

It was a beautiful dress…

Don’t mind my Boom

28 May

Sorry, I had to blog again on the topic. I have just never seen this happen before… not in a major motion picture. And so many people are so quick to blame the little projectionist guy. Although he is probably in high school, this is probably not his first movie projection… and furthermore… are projectionists all over the world trying to make some united statement?

I did some research and as it turns out, the boom mic is accuring all over the world… even in Fiji. (why people are indoors watching movies in Fiji, I can’t say). SO in order to help myself sleep at night, I had to figure out why on earth this happened. Here is the best answer I can find on the web:

“I am a projectionist at an independent movie theatre that picked up Sex and the City for a 2-week run.  Let me just say, that the Sex and the City 35mm print has been a complete pain to deal with.  It is known as a “full frame flat” movie, meaning that there are no black bars on the bottom or top of the frames to hide the boom mics.  When you receive a film like this, it is up to the projectionist to make sure that the film is perfectly in frame, otherwise the audience will see boom mics.  While seeing mics on the screen is completely the projectionist’s fault, this print is just impossible.  The problem is that the tops of the characters heads wind up being so close to the boom mics at the top of the screen, that oftentimes the very tops of their heads are cut off in order to keep all the mics from appearing on screen.  Additionally, there is a terrible reel change at reel 3, where the frame is completely black except for a tiny sliver of light.  There is absolutely no way of knowing how to correctly splice that frame to the end of reel 2 without having first seen the film with a keen eye watching for that spot.  Let me say, that these are all technically projectionist errors, but the studio seemed to make it as difficult as possible to screen the film perfectly.  Never have I experienced such inconvenience with a print.  I hope this helps.”

Thank you man, that does help! So yes, it IS the projectionist’s fault but only a Jedi Projectionist would be able to run this particular reel. Or so it sounds…

For more on the topic: http://movies.gearlive.com/movies/article/q107-sex-and-the-city-boom-in-frame1/#c25999

Blame it on the A A A A A Alcohol

7 Apr

Way back when I was twenty years old, just beginning my REAL adventures, I made a bad decision.

Major Woopsie Daisey moment!

Can you believe it? After reading this blog so far, I know you all just can’t imagine ME making a bad decision. But alas, it is so. But I had company in this bad decision. As always, I was riding right along side my very own side kick, MacTen when I made this bad decision. And she made it too. And to this day, we are not sure why…

It was a Sunday of all days, and MacTen and I, and a good friend of ours The Mayor, had just finished watching the second part of a VERY long play called Angels in America. If you are familiar with this play, you can immediately sympathize with the length of the show. If you are not familiar, let me just tell you this much: This play is TWO parts in total. Most theatre companies only ever attempt to do one part, because each part is three hours with two intermissions. Of course my college decided to attempt both parts, and they did this by offering the option to watch part one as a matinée and then part two, three hours later as an evening performance, or you could watch part two the following day on Sunday. This play, however long, is brilliant and I encourage you all to see it if the option arises. I saw the six hour show two times during this run, so you can see how committed I am to my trade. Anyway…

MacTen, The Mayor and I, decided that after such a long day in the theatre, we needed to go right home and embark on a ‘Friends’ marathon. (‘Friends’ like the show). And so we did. Believe it or not, this is not the bad idea! The bad idea is yet to come.

Once at my house, The Mayor put on the first DVD and very enthusiastically encouraged us to join him on the couch. Of course MacTen and I were a little restless. I mean, we had just spent an eternity sitting in the theatre. All of the sudden a ‘Friends’ marathon didn’t sound so fun. So MacTen and I came up with a new and improved version of the ‘Friends’ marathon. And this new version goes like this: The Mayor sits and watches ‘Friends,’ while MacTen and I drink. This is where the bad idea starts. Keep in mind it is about 5 o’clock on Sunday and we have class the following day.

Like I said, I was twenty which means MacTen was probably right around eighteen. So needless to say, we didn’t have a lot of options when it came to drink choices. And despite our efforts, no one seemed to be available to get us any alcohol on a Sunday, so we resigned to drink what we had. What we had to drink that day is the beginning and end of the bad idea.

We drank Popov vodka and Mountain Dew…. Code Red.

And we drank it as if it was going to disappear at 6pm. And disappear it did. MacTen and I did work on this vodka. I really, honestly do not know what our plan was exactly. Naturally things get a little fuzzy in this particular memory, but I seem to remember that her boyfriend at the time was perhaps going to bring us something better to drink a little later on and so we figured we better get rid of what we had in the house… something brilliant like that. So we did. We got rid of that vodka in record time. Literally, I wonder if The Mayor did not enter us in the Guinness Book.

As my memory goes, the vodka was completely gone (split between only MacTen and I… The Mayor was quite enthralled with ‘Friends’) in maybe half an hour. And the next thing I know, MacTen and I are beyond wasted and we are sitting on the kitchen floor, refrigerator door open, stuffing our face with left over CPK pizza. And that pizza was delicious, despite the fact that it may or may not have been in the fridge for longer than its expiration date. This was college. People didn’t throw out food just because it went bad.

And of course… everything we did was hilarious. This fact, has never changed I might add. To this day, EVERYTHING we do is hilarious, but it was especially hilarious on this day. And for some reason, The Mayor just could not quite grasp what was so darn funny. I remember him being rather annoyed, if you can believe that! I mean we were being seriously hilarious.

Well, in the midst of all this hilarity, MacTen gets the amazing idea to go to the beach. And clearly, I can not think of a better plan in the whole world. So we immediately petition The Mayor to drive us there. For whatever reason, he does not think it would be a good idea. I guess we must not have explained it well enough, because of course it was a good idea. It was an amazing idea. And we were not about to be thorted by The Mayor just because he was the only one with the ability to drive. No, no. I can’t remember who came up with our next idea, but it too, was amazing. We decided that we would just run to the beach. Now, I lived in Normal Heights in San Diego. If you know where that is, you’re laughing right now. For those of you who need a little more information… we are talking maybe a 15 minute drive on a good day to the beach from where I lived. But alas, this was not going to thort us either and so we set off.

I was wearing a pair of pink sleep shorts and a black tank top and MacTen was wearing something equally as inappropriate for outdoor wear. I wish I had a visual for you. I know there is a picture out there and try as I might, I can not find it. MacTen, help me out if you have it…

Anyway, I digress… MacTen and I burst out my front door and take off down the street. Now, if someone were to actually run from my house to the beach, they would have taken off in the opposite direction as we ran, but that didn’t really occur to us. Believe it or not, I think we knew somewhere in our subconscious that we wouldn’t actually make it to the beach. And that became clear about half a block from my door step. MacTen took a nasty spill. I am talking one of those trips that leads to an awkward run where you are trying to catch up with yourself when ultimately you know you’re just going to fall anyway kind of things. And of course, as soon as she hits the ground, I, who am following way too close, launch myself right over the top of her. Now this… was hilarious. At the time of course. The next day MacTen had a bruise that would put a plum to shame. But at the time… Well let’s just say The Mayor had to come and scrape us off the sidewalk and escort us back inside where he immediately returned to his marathon.

Looking back… it’s really a good thing that he was there. If he hadn’t have been, MacTen and I might be dead.

Well, after the fall, MacTen and I decided to finally give it a rest. I had two rocking chairs in my living room (I have a bad habit of rocking… well, I don’t really think it’s a BAD habit per say, but it is strange and it does rule my life a little bit). MacTen sat in one, and I sat in the other. Usually, that is exactly where I want to be if I am drunk or feeling yucky. My rocking chair. But on this particular occasion, the rocking motion really wasn’t helping matters at all. The rocking was making me think about all the Mountain Dew Code Red and vodka I had consumed… and the pizza… and the running… and well I just didn’t feel good all of the sudden. And no sooner had that thought occurred to me, did MacTen say,

“I think I’m going to puke.”

Took the words right out of my mouth.

“Me too,” I said.

And so we both retired into the bathroom together. We took our respective seats on either side of the commode. Ane we began the art of spitting.

Now, I have to take a minute here to let you all in on something. I do not puke. I do not get drunk and throw up. This strange occurence has only happened to me three times in my entire life. So you can understand how far this Sunday had gone. But if there is one thing I DO do, it’s spit. I will sit there and spit into a toilet all night long. I won’t puke, but I will spit. The relief you get from that purge is never mine… just the anticipatory spitting. And so of course, I expected nothing less when I sat by the toilet on this particular event.

But before I know it, a phone is ringing and then MacTen is gone and then nothing…

My memory stops.

It picks up again an undetermined amount of time later when MacTen had returned and was shaking me. I heard her voice first and I felt her shaking my body around, but I couldn’t see. The thought crossed my mind that I had drank myself blind, but that thought did not last long. No, all of the sudden, my sight was back but I could not explain what I was seeing. It would seem that there was a wood floor growing out of the side of my head. How strange. But of course the longer I pondered this vision, the further I could see. And then I realized that a ways down the hall, which I determine was what I was seeing, was my bed. I was seeing under my bed. How was I seeing under my bed? Where was I?

And before I could figure that out, MacTen sat me up. And now I was staring at the toilet again. I was sitting cross-legged in front of the toilet, just like that. Just like I had been before my memory stopped. Amazing. As it turns out, I had passed out and was laying half in the bathroom, half in the hallway (if you hadn’t figured that out yet).

Unfortunately for all parties involved at that very minute, the jarring movement from laying down to sitting up brought back all those unforgiving feelings of nausea. Of course the saving grace in all of this was that I was already sitting in front of the toilet. All MacTen had to do was heed my very quick warning, pull back my hair, and hold her breath. And out it came. My first puke from being drunk. Code Red.

After I was done, I finally knew what everyone was talking about when they said, “If you would just puke you would feel so much better.”

I felt on top of the world. But MacTen had had enough. She put me to bed, despite my insistance that I was fine and despite the fact that it was still light outside, and her boyfriend came and picked her up. Man, one throw up incident and the party was over! After all we had been through. I guess that part of the night was not hilarious.

Suddenly I was all alone, still hammered, and feeling much better. So I did what any other drunk person would do in that situation. I called everyone I knew, sitting in my bed, and I told them that I had thrown up. I felt like I had really accomplished something, and I really felt like people would want to know about it.

When all is said and done, I think that the major Woopsie Daisey moment in this story was the Code Red. I mean, really?

And there he goes…

31 Mar

Welcome back to WoopsieDaisey Wednesdays. I wasn’t so sure how this category would pan out, but quite frankly, it amuses me. Turns out I know lots of people who fall and lots of people who have ‘woopsiedaisey’ moments. So it really works out for all of us.

As a matter of fact, I just recently realized that I have a wealth of fall stories in one new friend: PostalService. If she will permit me, I’d love to tell some of those stories in the coming weeks. She too is a squiggly circle and tells stories amazingly, so I might just have to have her be a guest blogger. We will see. I will check with her and then I will be sure to share with you all, one way or another, her amazing stories that kept me laughing as I was trying to fall asleep recently in Vegas.

But for today, I will tell one of my favorite fall stories; one that has become somewhat of a legend. Yes, it involves my step father. And yes, believe it or not, it involves him being drunk. See, I told you that living with an alcoholic has its perks. Despite the heartache, it has provided me with an arsenal of stories. This one included.

So, this story takes place back in the JayHans period. Pre-LemonBass and Pre-our official proclamation of feelings. JayHans and I were in our early teens (or at least I was), maybe around 13. We were flirty, but then again, we were young so what does that really even mean? Basically, it was clear that we had crushes on one another. This might have only been the third time I’d ever met him, I’m not sure. But regardless, we had managed to find ourselves in his family’s hot tub alone. Let me promise you, it was very innocent. Like I said, we were just kids and we hadn’t even admitted to ourselves, let alone each other, that we liked each other. My sister might have even been in there with us. So pretty much we were talking. The rest of the family was not far away, drinking and carrying on in the garage. Like I mentioned, this family knows how to party.

And out of nowhere, here comes my step dad, stumbling up. Now I have probably described this before, but it warrants repeating. My step dad is a DEAD GIVEAWAY. There is never a question of ‘was he drunk last night?’ He is worse than a frat boy. And I don’t understand it because you would think that after a life time of drinking, one might develop somewhat of a resistance to alcohol. I mean, I guess what I can conclude from that is he drinks way more than we can even imagine. And he is not a little guy. He should be able to handle himself better, but he simply can not. He can’t walk. He can hardly stand without swaying. His eyes close. He licks his lips over and over again in the most offensive way and he makes absolutely NO SENSE. So like I said, there is never a question as to whether or not he was drunk. Now, picture if you will, someone whom I have just described, standing in front of you and telling you that they are in fact, NOT drunk. Can you even imagine how frustrating that is?

Again, I digress…

SO here comes drunk step dad with my mom not too far behind. JayHans and I see him coming from a mile away, so we are waiting for the brilliant statement that we are sure is coming. Even still, Step dad still thinks he has surprised us when he finally arrives. JayHans and I are just waiting for it to be over with, whatever it is. Step dad leans over and says:

“What are you two kids doing in…”

And then he passes out. Yes, he passes out mid sentence. I’ve never quite seen anything like it. And because he is not a small man, all that weight has nowhere to go but down. And unfortunately for all parties involved, down is into the hot tub. And there he goes…

This huge man sinks straight to the bottom. There is just no if, and’s or butt’s about it. He is at the bottom. We aren’t sure if he’s hit his head or if he’s had a stroke or what. And JayHans and I are obviously panicked and we are pulling at his clothes and trying to get our hands under him, but not only is he dead weight, he is wedged at the bottom of the spa. If you can picture a spa, imagine the part in the middle where all the feet are meant to go. It’s the smallest part in the spa. Now imagine a huge man, rolled into a ball, literally wedged down in that small space. And it’s dark outside and he is blocking the spa lights. This man doesn’t stand a chance.

But even still, Jay and I are pulling and trying to get our arms down into that space to pop him out, but to no avail. And then, as suddenly as he went out, he wakes up. Try waking up in a tub of hot water, I can only imagine how alarming that must have been. So of course when he wakes up, he nearly takes Jay and I out as he launches up out of the water. We are talking arms flaying, gasping for air, drunkenly trying to climb out. And if I wasn’t so relieved that I wasn’t going to have to live with the fact that I was in a spa with a dead man, I would have been pissed!

But don’t worry, my step dad ALWAYS gives me a reason to be pissed no matter what the circumstances.

He gets out of the spa and turns to Jay and I and says: “They were holding me down!”

What?! Are you kidding me? I laughed. I thought he was joking. He HAD to be joking…

Nope. He was quite serious.

He continued his tirade of how JayHans and I were holding him down and trying to kill him. And then he turns on my mom and accuses her of pushing him in. I mean, it’s not like we didn’t have the motive, but come on! We had just saved this guys life. He is impossible. And if his splash and our sceaming didn’t draw the attention of everyone in the neighborhood, his accusations sure did. He was practically ready to call the cops on us. I mean, this went on and on. All night long he stuck to his story and refused to admit that he even just fell, let alone passed out.

To this day, if you ask him about that story, he holds to the fact that my mom pushed him in and that Jay and I held him down. Now, of course, he will say that he knew it was just a joke, and we wern’t trying to kill him, but he won’t admit the truth. He will NEVER admit that ANYTHING is or was his fault and he certainly would never admit to being drunk that night. It still astounds me, even now.

The only consolation I got was in the morning, when I went out into the back yard, my step dad’s leather wallet was floating in the pool, completely ruined. And just the other night, my sister told me that she ran into a farmer in town that has worked with my step dad. Surprise, surprise, this man has a similar story about how my step dad tried to pin something on him that was actually in fact, my step dad’s fault. Somehow, in some small way, this makes me feel better. Small pleasures I guess, but that’s all I have when it comes to him.

Don’t tell my heart, my achey breaky heart

30 Mar
Alright guys, it’s time for cheat number two. 

If you’ll recall, my first love, JayHans, was not always the perfect example of a boyfriend. As they say: It was the best of times; It was the worst of times. That is the best way to describe that six year, on again, off more often relationship. It’s hard to say he ‘cheated’ on me because it was so hard to see the boundaries of our relationship. Here I go again, being a ‘circle’ and allowing myself to be taken advantage of, but still. It was never crystal clear when we were on and when we were off. We were kind of in a constant state of both. But at the same time, I do remember feeling betrayed, and isn’t that the worst part of being cheated on? The betrayal? The lying? I guess it’s hard to pick a ‘worst part’ of being cheated on. It all blows! 

Well then, if you have been reading along, you’ll remember the first person I said ‘I love you’ to- not to be confused with the first love- LemonBass. He cheated on me on our three month anniversary, which in high school was a very big deal. Of course he didn’t truly confess to the digression until more than a year later when we were already back together, reconciled and having just lost our virginity to one another. That is what I consider my first REAL cheat. My first cut, if you will. That one really introduced me to the frailness of relationships. When you’re young and in love, especially your first love, there is this feeling of invincibility. You’ve never been hurt so that is the furthest thing from your mind. First love is forever! Or so we think. I know I did. So this burn was definitely 3rd degree. And that was a low time for me. 

Well, after LemonBass and I finally split in my freshman year of college after three years, I was set free to a world of dating brand new assholes. There was a whole new world open to me at that point. I had been with LemonBass for so long, and JayHans before that, that this was really the first time I had been single as an adult. Well, anyone who is coming out of a long relationship, particularly one in high school, knows that these things never just really end abruptly. There is a long, long process of relapsing as I call it. It’s hard to avoid. We are so used to being in a relationship with that person that it just feels weird to not be. And at that age, it’s hard to figure out who you are when you’ve always been just half. Trust me, I know. Lemon and I played this game for a good two years after our break up. Sometimes the gap between fixes was longer than others, but we never actually got back together. It was always just a band-aid for the loneliness. 

Well, during this period of rehab, I dated a few guys. Of course I was so committed to not being tied down that I didn’t even really realize that I wanted to be. I tried to keep everything so casual, but women have a really hard time doing that. Women get attached. It’s this stupid thing we do, and I hate it as much as the guy hates it. But alas, I managed to get myself attached to some of these winners and I allowed myself to feel betrayed. Again, when you’re ‘keeping it casual’, you’re not really being cheated on, but it hurts all the same. 

So all the sudden, it’s the summer before my senior year of college and I have to move home to have my tonsils out. After years of constant strep throat, I finally found a compassionate doctor willing to do the deed. I was 20 years old, and apparently doctors try to avoid taking tonsils out past the age of like 6 so it was quite a challenge convincing them that I actually needed the ‘risky’ surgery. (Really? Risky? It’s tonsils). But that’s not the point. The point is, that I had been single- and casually dating in between relapses- for two years. 

When I moved home that summer, never in my wildest dreams would I have ever guessed that I would fall in love. Especially not with the winner who ended up stealing my heart. I was just pulling myself out of a HUGE depression and I had just closed the most life altering play I’d ever worked on (two separate blogs) and the last thing on my mind was love. 

Well, life is funny like that. 

I had the operation and as promised, a terribly long and painful recovery. Day one I threw up from the pain meds. Now imagine throwing up with holes in your throat. Okay don’t imagine that. Sorry. But anyway, it was gnarly, that I can promise you. I was down for about a month. The scabs ripped, I struggled with dehydration and I lost a bunch of weight- so not all bad. 

So this is the part that makes this story all the more tragic. It seemed even back in high school, that whenever a guy was interested in me, there would be two guys. It was never just one at a time. I always had to choose.  And I always seemed to choose wrong. Of course I didn’t realize that until afterwards, but the signs were all there. Well, this instance was no different. After two years of really no one special vying for my attention, all of the sudden there were two. 

Jankster. And HurtLocker. 

I met Jankster through my sister. He came first. You see, this was also the summer that my sister graduated high school, and at that time she was seeing a GORGEOUS boy named… let’s call him Arms. So she and Arms were spending a lot of time together and it was the first time that I was ever really attracted to someone my sister was dating. And I mean REALLY attracted to him. Well, I told D’Monk that she should introduce me to his friends and she mentioned that he had a brother. A TWIN brother. An IDENTICAL TWIN brother. Well, basically I was ready to plan the wedding when she mentioned that he had a girlfriend. DAMN! 

A few weeks later, at D’Monk’s graduation party (my family is kind of known for throwing epic parties) I may or may not have had a few too many drinks and so I wandered up to Arms and said exactly this: 

“Tell your brother that he needs a little less (Girlfriend’s name), and a little more MrsWaterCloset.” 

Apparently that was all it took. Jankster and I were officially seeing each other no more than two weeks later. And let me tell you, it was awesome. He was so amazingly attractive and my sister was dating his twin and we just thought that was the coolest thing ever. 

Jankster, MWC, D'Monk, Arms

can you tell the difference?

Well, also at that graduation party was my mother’s long time best friend. She has a son. Obviously Jankster was a few years younger than me, well her son was a few years older than me. 

A little back ground on HurtLocker: I had known OF him most of my life. When we were younger, he used to actually babysit me while our parents went out. But of course back then he was the fat kid. I wouldn’t have noticed him at all except for the fact that he was absolutely hilarious. Fast forward a bunch of years, I stopped needing a babysitter, and we were both in high school. I was a sophomore and he was a senior. I remember I saw him walking around campus and I could not believe my eyes. He had lost all the baby fat and he was a knock out. Drop dead gorgeous. Or at least I thought so. I would include a picture but I’ve burned them all. 

In high school, he had fourth period across the hall from me. He wasn’t much for school and he was SUPER confident (or cocky rather) and so he was always standing in the halls, yelling at people and what not when I would get to class. He always had a girlfriend but that never stopped him from flirting (or much more I guess). But he didn’t flirt with me. I would just quietly walk to class in awe by him. I never said a word, and he rarely said a word. I wasn’t on his radar. He didn’t remember me from when we were younger, or at least he pretended not to. 

Well, sometime that year his sister got married and of course we were invited because we were long time family friends. That wedding, for whatever reason, put me on his radar. His girlfriend was there of course, but he spent a lot of the time dancing and flirting with me. This should have been a HUGE red flag for me, but I ate it up. I was dancing with HurtLocker for crying out loud! Dream come true. For me, not for his girlfriend. She ended up leaving early, crying, and he had to go after her. RED FLAG? No way. He went after her. He must not have been all bad, right? 

Come Monday at school, everything was different. He noticed me. As soon as I walked into the building where our respective fourth periods were, he came right up to me and pinned me up against the wall. I don’t even remember what he said, it was the way he said it. I could just feel my face turning read and my mind going to mush. Oh man, was I just a fool in love! It sounds so ridiculous to me now but I can totally remember just melting at the sight of him. And looking back, he demonstrated everything I CAN’T STAND in men now, but at the time, I lived for that two minutes before fourth period. 

At the end of the year he graduated (well, not technically, but he left school anyway) and life went back to normal. I met LemonBass in my junior year and you all know what happens next. 

So now, fast forward to D’Monk’s high school graduation party and my Jankster. Years and years had passed since the last time I saw Hurt, but his reputation was never totally out of sight. Hurt was what you might call a player. He was KNOWN for cheating. He was KNOWN for being a flirt. He was KNOWN for his outrageously long list of women. I KNEW all of this! RED FLAG? No way, I was different. And when his mom suggested for the millionth time that I should go out with him, I played back and told her to have him call me. He was also ALWAYS in a relationship (and cheating on whoever it was) and so I was surprised when she told me that he was actually single. Still, not in a million years did I think that he would ever call me. 

Well, like I said, life is funny like that. 

Just when it seemed Jankster and I were going to really make something of ourselves, I get a call from my mom’s best friend. It was around 8pm on a week night and when I found out who was calling I told her that I would go get my mom. 

“No, I’m calling for you,” she said. 

“Oh… okay.” 

“I just gave Hurt your number. I hope that’s okay,” she said. And I’m not kidding, as she said it, the other line beeped in my ear. I nearly peed myself. I told her to hold on, and I answered the other line. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Him. I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, that crush that I had once had for him was not nearly as strong, but for whatever reason my heart was racing. And even though I had talked my fair share of shit about this particular individual, and was truly disgusted with all that I had heard about him, I didn’t hang up the phone. Instead I laughed and told him that his mom was on the other line and that I’d have to call him back. And even after my heart rate slowed and my head was back on straight, I called him back. He asked me out for lunch. I said yes. 

Why do we do this girls? 

Of course I didn’t tell Jankster that I was going out with Hurt. Honestly, I was so shocked by the whole thing that I didn’t know what to think about it exactly. Well, that first date was like no other date I had ever been on. I seriously felt like I was on an interview to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t really a conversation so much as he just asked me a series of questions. He made me laugh and to his surprise, I made him laugh. After I got over the weirdness of the date, I started calling him out on some of his shit. See, I was going to be different. I was determined to be different. I told him that I had rules. I told him that I thought he was a slut. I told him that I wouldn’t date him. I told him that I knew he asked me to lunch on purpose so he could either go back to work or try to sleep with me, depending on how I looked. He laughed. But when he didn’t go back to work and took me back to his place to take a ‘nap’, he was genuinely surprised when I reminded him of my rules and left. 

I thought for sure that that would be the end of my relationship with HurtLocker. If you didn’t put out, you didn’t hang out with Hurt. Well, that didn’t seem to be true for me. He called me later that night. And then the next day. And then the next. I was shocked. I wasn’t sleeping with him. We were actually doing things. He had a boat and it was summer so we spent a lot of time on the river with his friends. Maybe I was different. 

Never think that girls!!!!!! You are not different! You’re better than all this, but your no different than any of the other girls who have fallen for it. These guys know what they are doing. They’ve done it a million times. There is a reason the world MAN is in MANipulation! THEY WILL NOT CHANGE FOR YOU!!! 

Whew… sorry about that… 

Anyway, during this random relationship with Hurt, I was also seeing Jankster. I was much more honest with Jankster than I was with Hurt, mainly because I could trust Jankster. I cared about him. I didn’t want to hurt him. And more than anything, I KNEW that he cared about me more than Hurt ever would. But even still, it seemed that I would soon be faced with a choice. 

And then Hurt went and did something unforgivable. It was a low blow. Jankster knew it and I knew it. Hurt got a puppy. And to seal the deal he started calling me Mommy. I was puppy’s Mommy! I mean, that’s just not even fair. But all’s fair in love and war! 

That first night that I went over to see the puppy, my sister came with me, and for the first time Hurt really stepped it up and was acting like we were actually a couple. I just still couldn’t believe it. He knew I was only home for the summer. He knew my rules. He knew the deal, and still he wasn’t just moving on to the next girl. It was such a trip. Well, that night Hurt overheard me talking to my sister about Jankster and he asked me if I was seeing someone else. He just flat out asked me. I never thought that he would care if he found out, but he actually was really upset about it. And of course that led to the ‘what are we’ conversation, which led to me making the wrong decision. 

I broke it off with Jankster the next day. To this day, ladies, that is one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. Please learn from my mistakes. And if you’re not convinced that I know what I’m talking about when it comes to this stuff, read on. 

That next week Jankster left one long stem red rose on my porch, with a very witty hand written letter, basically asking me to reconsider. I didn’t reconsider. The next week, for the first and last time in my life thus far, a box of a dozen long stem red roses was delivered to my door with a note. The note simply quoted my favorite song in the entire world and was not signed. I looked and my sister and said: 

“You know what’s sad? I KNOW this is not from my boyfriend because he doesn’t know that my favorite flower is a long stem red rose and he doesn’t know my favorite song.” 

I KNEW it could not be from Hurt. It was from Jankster. I did not reconsider. I broke his heart. 

Hurt and I dated for about four months, until I moved back to San Diego. I know for a fact that he did not cheat on me the entire time I lived in town. Well, I guess I can never be sure, but I feel it in my heart even now. If he was not at work, I was with him. He was jealous and he made sure of that. I slept at his house every single night. He had lunch with me at every single lunch hour. And he came over in his work clothes to pick me up every single day. He went to the bars only twice while we were together and both times he was always reachable and he always came over to get me, even if it was 3am. I know he didn’t cheat on me in those first four months. 

And until I met my husband, you can ask D’Monk, Hurt was her favorite boyfriend of mine. He was hysterical. I don’t know if I’ve ever laughed so much in my life. He was caring and kind. He had a boat and a puppy, which didn’t hurt, and I actually grew to trust him. Worst of all, I grew to love him. And I don’t love anyone half way. When I love, it’s serious. I lose myself in love. If there is one thing that I know how to do, it is love. And he was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that love, even for a minute. 

When the time came for me to move, HE made the decision to stay together. I gave him the easiest way out possible. I left a note on his porch, explaining that I knew what I was getting myself into when I started the relationship and I knew it was only going to be for the summer. I told him that if he just didn’t call me, I would know it was over and we could both avoid that awkward sad break up. 

He called. 

Our relationship lasted only about two weeks into the move. Suddenly, he was unreachable. I could never get him on the phone. And of course, the rumors of another girl started to circulate. I drove home and we ended things for good. 

Well, nothing is ever really ended for good. We decided not to talk. We decided that that would be easiest, but of course come Halloween… I’m home, I’m 21 now and we see each other at the bar. It all starts over again. But this time it was totally different. Or so I thought. He swore up and down that he never cheated. He swore up and down that he wasn’t seeing anyone. And when my wonderful step dad got his second DUI, Hurt was there to support me and make me laugh again. All this said, I couldn’t help but notice that whenever I spent the night at his house- which was rare because he preferred my house all of the sudden- he made sure to lock the front door and his bedroom door. And he never seemed to answer the phone when we were together. I CHOSE to ignore those red flags. I saw them, plain as day, but chose to ignore them. 

When I went back to San Diego, he still called every night. Things were different. We made plans for Christmas and we saw each other over Thanksgiving. We didn’t necessarily have the conversation of ‘are we back together’ but I certainly wasn’t seeing anyone else this time. 

Christmas break. 

I had been back in town only a few days and although I had talked to Hurt, mysteriously, he was always busy when we were supposed to see each other. Again, I chose to ignore that feeling deep down in my gut that was telling me to throw up and run away. LISTEN TO THAT! It’s there for a reason. 

Christmas Eve. 

Lizzard and I are at the bar. I say ‘the’ bar because there are not many in town. All Hurt’s friends are out and I know it’s just a matter of time before he shows up and all will be right in the world again. Well, instead of Hurt, in walks his rumored girlfriend. She comes in with Hurt’s sister. To me, that’s not a good sign. Of course he has denied that he’s dating her, he has slept with me… he has lied. And I can see it immediately in her face. She knows who I am and she is not happy to see me. All this aside, Lizzard and I are determined to enjoy the night. We keep our distance. 

Around midnight, amongst all the people in the crowded room, I hear my name being shouted from across the bar. It’s her. She’s looking right at me and she is yelling my name. And then she says something that literally stops my heart. 

“We’re getting married in September.” 

She has a ring. 

All the air in the room gets sucked out. My ears go numb. I have that feeling in my stomach like I’m falling. I can feel the tears just fighting to get out. She’s still yelling at me. Details. He just asked her for Christmas. 

“Good for you,” I yell back and give her a thumbs up. I mean really? You obviously know I’m seeing him or you wouldn’t be acting this way. Do you think you really won something? Do you think you have something over my head? I get the bar tenders attention and I look over at Lizzard who is equally as shocked. I can see this look in her eyes like she is just waiting for me to fall over or something. And I’ll never forget what she said to me: 

“Are you okay? We don’t cry in bars.” 

So true. We definitely can’t cry in this bar. I nod at her and tell her that I’m just going to step outside for a minute. She asks to come with me and I tell her that I’m okay. I’m not. 

It’s raining outside. Of course. It helped disguise my tears though, so that was nice as I had to say hello to some people that were coming in. I go out in the parking lot and I literally crawl in between two cars and I call my sister. 

“He’s getting married,” is all I say to her. She is at another party and can hardly hear me, but there is no mistaking who I mean. She too asks if I need to be picked up. I say no. I’m fine. I’m not. 

I go back into the bar and proceed to get as drunk as I can get. I text message Hurt: “September weddings are beautiful” and that is the last thing I ever say to him. Even drunk I know better than to ever call him again. About a half an hour or so later, the wife-to-be approaches me directly and tries to fight me. She literally tries to punch me in the face. If you’ve read my last few blogs you know that as a circle, I am very un-confrontational. I have never in my life gotten in a fight and I certainly wasn’t going to do it that night. So I did what any girl would do; I cried and let my friends fight her for me. But before all that I did get to yell in her face: 

“Don’t worry. You can have him.” 

And somehow that made me feel better. Still does. She still has him though. They did end up getting married that September. Although I did hear that he was involved in a pool with the rest of his groomsmen as to how long the marriage would actually last. From what I understand, he didn’t think it would last that long. She got pregnant right away. They had a daughter. Now they have two. In a lot of ways I think they really are perfect for each other. She had the same reputation that he had. And that is one thing that Hurt would always say to me: “I hold you back.” He did. He knew it. I couldn’t see it. I love too well. Or too stupidly. A little of both I guess. 

So that is cheat number 2 guys. It wasn’t pretty. I was broken. Let me tell you, that was the most retarded Christmas I’ve ever had in my life. And to be honest… I didn’t learn a thing. I jumped right into cheat number 3. It was HE who actually shined the light on this whole mess. If you can imagine, cheat 3 is even worse. Stay tuned…

Not her finest moment

24 Feb

Since it’s a WhoopsieDasiey Wednesday, and I have been kind of indulging in the ‘fall’ stories, I thought I would change it up a bit. Let me remind you all that a fall is not the only time one might say ‘Whoopsie Daisey.’ For example, if someone were to make a mistake… or over do it on something like say, alcohol… that would be a ‘Whoopsie Daisey’ moment, now wouldn’t it?

This story is about MacTen. Yes, dear, you. Specifically a very large ‘Whoopsie Daisey’ moment that she and I shared back in Oxford, England. Well, to be fair, JumpSki was there too.

I believe I mentioned this program back in one of my travel blogs, but all the same, MacTen and I were lucky enough to attend the prestigious British American Drama Academy at Oxford University. I had just graduated college and she had not yet turned 21. But in Europe, you’re 21 when you’re born, so she was taking full advantage of that particular freedom during this ‘Whoopsie Daisey’ moment.

It was the final day of the program. All of our scene work had been presented, which was the culminating portion of the entire summer. We, as students, had been attending only 4 classes a day, but they were intense and they were taught by brilliant English and American teachers who were all MORE than qualified to be teaching us, to say the least. I can’t speak for everyone when I describe these classes, but I will give it a go all the same.

Shakespeare class. For me it was taught by a fiery women by the name of Irina Brown. She was Russian and she took being Russian very seriously. I wouldn’t joke about a thing like that. This woman was a nightmare, and the first half of the summer, I hated her. She embarrassed me. She called me out on my weaknesses. She was relentless. She expected so much. But of course, as I grew over the summer, both as a person and a performer, winning her respect became one of my highest goals. It might have taken me a minute to realize, but those are the types of people that are put in our path to teach us… more than anyone else, and I learned a great deal from that woman. I will never forget her. Aside from her erratic behavior sometimes, this woman wore only one thing the entire month of July. Every single day, I kid you not. JumpSki can vouch for this. She wore a floor length jean skirt, and an over sized, oatmeal colored, knit sweater. Her hair can best be compared to the main of a lion simply because her face kind of resembled a lion. So there ya go, there is Shakespeare class.

Movement class. Another teacher I will not soon forget but for entirely different reasons. I am smiling now as I think of him. He was completely opposite Irina. His name was Ben. Just Ben, can’t remember his last name, but we called him Big Ben or Uncle Ben. He was quite tall, impossibly thin and old as can be. There is something in the water in Europe because these people live forever. He was completely insane, but in a ‘I’m high on drugs’ kind of way. He called me Wendy Bendy- which I never quite figured out… because I am NOT flexible in any way- and he always spoke as if he were singing. Every word was drawn out. At the talent show that summer, he wore butt-less pants and played a song on his bare ass. And once in class, he spent the entire 1 hour 45 minute period running us through an exercise that required us to act like we were on a sinking ship. That’s it. For nearly 2 hours, he dictated the weather and we reacted as if on a sinking ship. Crazy but brilliant. That will make you think!

Audition Techniques. In this class I had my biggest break through as an actor. We only had this class once a week, so four times total, but we were expected to have learned a new monologue each week. That sounds simple enough, but learning a new monologue means reading the play from which it comes, researching the era, researching the character, blocking, practicing, memorizing and not to mention, FINDING a new one from Border’s books across the road. I did a monologue from “Tongue of a Bird” that I won’t soon forget. This class was very intense, but I can’t recall much about the teacher, specifically.

Modern class. In this class we worked on very modern, very obscure pieces. For half the month I had Barry… bless his heart. He reminded me entirely of what you would picture an older English gentleman to look like. He had a comb over and wore knit caps, as well as sweater vests. But he was so darling and brilliant. He taught me so much about character research and development, even for the most simplest of roles (if there is such a thing). And for the second half of the month, we had a lovely, young, black man as a teacher. I forget his name at the moment, but I know that he called EVERYONE ‘my baby’… but really it was one word: mybaby. “That was brilliant mybaby.” “No, do you see what you’re doing there mybaby?” Oh yes… his name was Leo, I remember now. He makes me smile too.

And of course Voice class. Not singing. Voice. Like speaking and accents and pronouncing things correctly and all that. This class was where I struggled the most personally. I have a hard time placing my voice correctly. One bad voice couch in college, and everything is ruined. But the teacher was Linda Gates. I’ll not soon forget her name. She was the most entitled, but lovely woman I’ve ever met. So pompous but loveable. I don’t know how she pulled it off. That class often got long and boring because we were sitting most of the time, and nearly running ourselves into the ground the rest of the day, so here and there we would ask her a question to get her off topic… she loved name dropping and getting off topic, if it meant she got to tell us a story about something amazing that had happened to her. She literally spoke with her nose in the air, but you had to love her. She was my only American teacher. Taught in Chicago. Some of the students actually had her as a teacher in the states.

So anyway, that is a taste of my favorite summer to date, but that is not entirely off topic. I had to kind of give you all a little back ground so that you might understand the weight that was lifted off our shoulders the final day of classes. No more scenes, no more rehearsing well into the night on the lawn while the bats dive at us, no more reading plays at all hours, or performing monologues to the walls… all was done. All was performed. We were free.

And in celebration of this, BADA put on a HUGE closing night dinner in the great dinning hall. And by great dinning hall I mean just that. We are talking Harry Potter style. 3 long tables of students, with the faculty at the table at the far end of the hall. Seriously, the movie was filmed just down the street.

Hp

We had a great meal- only the very first and the very last meal there were eatable… it was England after all- and all the wine and champagne one could drink. So we students felt that we could really let our hair down and have a good time. 140 kids, most of whom were under age, letting their hair down for a party with the faculty is a terrible, terrible idea. But alas, we had to comply. And party we did.

I can’t say that I remember dinner too clearly. There was great chocolate cake, but I can’t be sure if I actually remember that or if I only remember the pictures of it.

A well known actor spoke at the dinner- I’m not one for names, someone remind me who it was… he was in Shakespeare in Love- and I can’t remember anything that he said, but I remember being moved. When the time came for dinner to be over, even though we had been terribly over served as it was, MacTen decided that it would be a good idea to ‘barrow’ a few bottles of wine and take them back to our rooms before heading down to the dance, where more alcohol was being served. I think her logic might have been that they were charging at the dance, who can know for sure?

So about 10 of us went back to our room, MacTen the ringleader, and we had a few more glasses of wine before heading down to the dance.

I don’t remember the dance at all.

I do, however, remember telling MacTen that I was pretty sure I would be puking and her consoling me and telling me that it would be okay if I needed to do that. I remember going back to my room to drunk dial my boyfriend back in the states- this boyfriend is SinkinShip who will come into play soon as ‘cheat’ number 3- and of course getting off the phone angry. It was sometime in the morning for him, but don’t worry… he was drunk too. And I remember heading back down to the dance and sitting on the steps outside laughing at ALL the drunk people and watching the kids kiss whoever their crushes were throughout the summer. Alcohol has a funny way of lowering your inhibitions.

Then, all at once, MacTen told me that she just needed to throw up a little and she would be fine. Now, for MacTen to throw up… this is pretty much par for the course. For ME to throw up… well, there have only been 3 times that I have thrown up for drinking in my nearly 27 years. Age 20, Age 21 and Age 25. I am not proud of any of these. Surprisingly enough though, this night was not one of those nights, despite the fact that I had announced that it would be.

So anyway, MacTen and I head to the bushes, yes the bushes, and she ador places her finger down her throat. I have to marvel at her every time she does this. I have never been able to do it. My body fights throwing up like you wouldn’t believe. I have done the stick my finger down my throat game, I have even had someone else do it not believing I was doing it right, and nothing. Never. I just can’t make it work that way. But MacTen, she is a seasoned pro. So she handles her business in the bushes of Balliol college. But don’t worry, she was not out of place. As she was puking, a friend of ours comes up and pees in the bushes just a ways down from us. This is why, people, the legal drinking age should be 21. Kids just can’t handle their shit.

After this escapade, I decide to take MacTen back up to my room. As is sometimes the case, once the chamber is open, there is really no stopping it. It’s kind of a 50/50 game. It either frees up the rest of the night and everything is fine, or it makes everything worse. In this particular example, everything got worse. And if you have ever found yourself in a similar situation, you know that a best friend puking is as good as a shower and a cup of black coffee for a drunk person. I went from feeling sick myself to mom mode in about 20 seconds.

On our way up to my room, we stumbled across JumpSki. Now, at the time he was 28. Much older than the average student at BADA, but he was just as plastered as any one of them. This does make me think that perhaps it was not just the young age of everyone there… maybe there really is something in the water in Europe. JumpSki was like I have never seen him, and he was one of my closest friends. JumpSki had driven me home and held me up more than once in our past partying endeavors, so it was quite the surprise for me to find him in such a state. But what else could I do? I threw his arm over my other shoulder and led him up to my room.

Now, I have to take a minute to explain my room here. It was huge. Please take note of the pictures I have included. This college was built in 1212 by a group of magical gnomes. Well, that’s a lie, but it was magical.

My room was on the third and top floor. The winding stairway up to the third floor was cement and echoing like you would imagine a castle. And then of course my room was equally as imaginative; tall ceilings, fireplace, large open space, iron windows. It was beautiful.

In all these rooms there was a small sink. I tell you this because once we got in the room, both JumpSki and MacTen needed to use the sink at once. Luckily, an admirer of JumpSki’s and all around brilliant Irish lass, CrazyBuckley, came in at just that moment and was able to usher JumpSki to the bathroom in time. I, however, was left with MacTen and the sink.

This moment, and MacTen will confirm it, sealed our friendship forever. There is no way I will not love this girl for my whole life after what came next.

Vomit.

Lots and lots of vomit. Into the sink, yes, but just a little, no! And for some reason, she had to have the water running. I tried to turn it off, as it was filling the sink just as quickly with water as she was filling it with her dinner, but she insisted- between gags- that it be left on. And so it was. But this left me with somewhat of a terrible predicament. The sink was filling and there was no sign of letting up. There was only one thing to do, and I only had about 2 seconds to think about it…

Yes, I had to scoop the puke.

It was either that, or let it over flow onto the carpet. And if I let that happen, I would still have to clean it up and my room had a much higher chance of smelling like puke the remainder of the night, so yes, I decided to scoop. I am not ashamed. It was horrible, but I would do it all over again for her. Sorry to be graphic but once I got the chunks out of the drain, the rest kind of went down easier. And before long it was over… well… not exactly.

Shortly after this a series of events unfolded very quickly. A cute boy- the brother of one of my classmates whom I had been flirting with that night- came looking for me and I could do nothing but put him in charge of MacTen while I went in search of more towels. I peeked in at JumpSki, but he was in good hands with CrazyBuckley, so I tried to sneak into my hall mates room to steal some of her towels.

I opened her door, the light from the hall lit up her dark bed just in time for me to witness her throwing up into her garbage can. Shit. So I went inside, soothed her until she fell back asleep and then proceeded back to my room with the stolen towels. No sooner had I returned, did cute boy take off for good. But then, just as I was getting MacTen settled into the nice bed of towels I had made her under the sink, in comes her crush of the summer and up goes MacTen. It was as if she had never filled my sink. She was ready to rejoin the party, no problem. She doesn’t remember this part, but luckily neither does the guy. He too had been overserved.

MacTen finally passed out.

I moved to the bathroom with JumpSki. I must have spent a good hour in there with CrazyBuckley, while JumpSki apologized over and over again, not really sure if it were me or Buckley he was hanging onto. And as our bathroom was communal, and we occupied it for most of the night, we got the occasional head popping in to fill us in on the goings on of the rest of the students. As it turned out, most everyone was in rare form, and bad shape.

After a lot of coercion, I convinced Jump to leave the safety and security of the cement bathroom floor, as much fun as I was having in there, and brought him to my bed of towels to snuggle MacTen. Finally, the night was through. I slept in my bed, while my two drunk friends cuddled on the floor under the sink.

The next morning was… well… interesting. There were a lot of headaches and a lot of garbage, and unfortunately for the janitor, a lot of dried excrement everywhere. But it was also the day we all had to say goodbye… One of the harder days of my life I might add. Letting go of a summer like that, an experience like that, is not easy. The people you meet and the people you share that experience with are with you forever in a way. MacTen and I became the friends that we are because of that summer, but she was not the only one…

I had met another brilliant friend that summer: Will.

He doesn’t get a nickname. I have never seen him since, but I still count him in my best friends and because that summer was so huge in shaping me into the person I am today, he was a huge part of that as well. He was in my class and across the hall. I spent nearly every moment of that month with him and I got to know him better than most. When I think back to that July of ’05, I remember a lot of work. I remember endless studying and reading and never taking any shortcuts… always doing all the work. But I also remember hours and hours of conversation with Will and MacTen. I remember going to clubs. I remember trips to London, the bombings of London, and I remember scooping puke out of my sink. Truthfully, I don’t know how we fit it all in. But isn’t that always the sign of a truly good time?

So that morning, we all said our goodbyes. Looking back, I think those Brits are onto something, getting us all so drunk the night before we all leave each other. Everyone was so hung over and so worried about the brightness of the sun and catching their next mode of travel, that no one really spent too much time crying over those goodbyes. It was kind of just quick, like a band-aid.

It’s funny to think that that amazing program ended just that way, but it did. Random? I don’t know. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe I didn’t get to say all the goodbyes that I would have said, but who needs goodbyes? I was right where I was supposed to be, right Mac? I think so…

Mac, Me and Jump: