|Title Goes Here
||[Apr. 14th, 2016|10:57 am]
An intro: Since emailing last week, I have the following conversation in my head at least once a day-
Head: "Do you think he wrote back?"
Head: "Maybe you should check."
Me: "I know he didn't. If he was going to, he would have done it already."
Head: "What about now? Do you think he wrote back?"
Head: "Maybe you should check."
You told me that you happened to be on here, reading this last week. I haven't even thought about livejournal in years. (You would think LiveJournal, the website, would have added livejournal, the word, into their dictionary. But, no.) Since last time you mentioned it. Which was June 20, 2013 when you told me you found an app that lets you download all your entries. So, I can assume it will be a long time since you find yourself on here again, I figured it would a safe place to scratch the itch talking to you always awakens. I just want to tell you everything. I want to tell you all about my life. I think it's so weird that urge still exists after so many, many years.
I broke up with my boyfriend a couple weeks ago. We hadn't been dating very long. We hadn't slept together. When I broke up with him, he told me I gave out very mixed messages because I seemed to like him, I was excited to date, I was encouraging to make plans but when it came to physical intimacies I was closed off and slow acting. It was a little rude and off-putting. We hadn't been going out very long at all. And I was very clear that I wasn't going to sleep with anyone until I was in a committed relationship with someone I loved and loved me. When I told him it had been something like 6 or 7 years since I had slept with someone he took it really well. But I think he thought I was dating so that I could put an end to that. Which is not the case. If I just wanted to screw, I could make that happen. I could go to the bar, I could make some calls, I could create a one-night stand. I committed to myself, though.
I remember the exact moment too. I was in Michael's car. It was probably my mom's birthday because I'm pretty sure we were at that restaurant where we threw her a party for her big 4-0. I knew Michael had some tendencies towards men, but it seemed like he was so interested in me. We hadn't had sex since that first time, but we were inseparable. So I put myself out there. I was tired of second guessing. He admitted that he only felt romantic interest for men. And I probably teared up a little, and told him how tired I was of sleeping with the wrong people. It felt like years since I had fucked someone who actually wanted to be with me. Even Adrian had loved me, but didn't want to be with me when we were sleeping together. I think I have to go back all the way to Jason as the last person who fucked me, loved me, and dated me all at the same time. It didn't feel good. So I decided I needed a cleansing. (Who knew it would last so long?) I promised myself I was going to wait for a real connection before doing that again.
And for the most part, I have. There was once or twice with you when we still lived in the same city and were trying to remember how our friendship works. There was the married man in New York. There was the drunken giant when I moved to Colorado. And that's it. I can count the times on one hand. And this silly man who's known me for all of a month thinks I'm just going to jump into bed with him? Hardly.
So I started thinking what did I really want from this man anyways? From dating? From love? If on my checklist of life, I could put a check mark next to FALL IN LOVE, what would be next? It was interesting because I hadn't asked myself- maybe ever. It felt like for all my life the truest goal of living was to fall in love. Find the mate. Grow the relationship. Never leave and never be left. But in the best case scenarios, that's really only the first step. What would be next?
If I found someone who loved me and wanted to spend the rest of their life with me, I would want someone to support me while I went back to school or someone to support me while I have a baby. Those are my real dreams in life. And I don't need a man to either one, really.
So I'm starting school in September. I'm moving in with my mom and my brother in New Mexico. I'm going to community college for my associate's in psychology. In two years I'll go to university for my bachelor's. After that I'll get my master's. In six years I'll be establishing a career in something I truly want to do. Three to four years after that, I'm going to have a baby. In whatever way I need to. If I need to adopt, or get a donor, or maybe along the ride I will find someone who likes my plan and wants to come along. But by the time I'm 40, I want to be done with school and having a child. It's the first time I've felt like I have a life plan. A real step by step, end-in-mind, light at the end of the tunnel, PLAN.
It makes me think of that scene in Friends where the girls are laying around the living room drinking margaritas (or something like that). Rachel is lamenting the fact that she doesn't have a plan for life. Do the others? And Phoebe, with her ponytail flipped over her head and a straw bringing the liquor straight to her mouth without having to move says, "I don't even have a PLA-"
I fucking love it. In Devrah's words, "I'm changing my life."
That's all for today.
Tune in next time as we delve into the family life!