relationship hangovers, geology class, and the concept of waste.

I spent my summer single. I didn't go on dates, I didn't do much of anything except work, read, drink and -- unfortunately -- come home to The Ex every night.

That's right - we broke up in May, but he didn't move out until September 30.

It's a long story why, but I'll save you the head scratching and just say that yes, it was terrible and awkward and basically felt like one really long hangover. You know the hangover I'm talking about - the one where you wake up and think "Jesus, why did I think making out with him/riding that mechanical bull/taking eleventy billion tequila shots was a good idea?" Except it was a person, and I was looking him in the face every day and wondering, "Jesus, how did we ever get along well enough to date? For over a year? To move in together?"

But I suppose those answers are neither here nor there. 

The weird thing about living alone now is not that I suddenly miss him - I don't - it's that I feel this weird sense of confusion, like I've wasted a lot of time, somehow.

The thing about dating someone for a long time is that it's like taking a course in another human being. You learn their likes and dislikes, what makes them tick, what they dream about, where they're going, and what they're afraid of. You learn all these little details, their ins and outs so to speak. When you're together, it's great - you feel like the only person in the world who could know this much about them, who can speak with authority on them - but when it's over, it feels useless, and part of you doesn't want it to be.

Ending a serious relationship with someone feels like getting an A in a geology class when your major is English.

When it's over, you're left wondering: Was it a waste? Wasn't it? You got the experience, you learned a lot, but to what end? Was it worth it? 

What I'm trying to say is: What do you do with all that knowledge about your ex? You can't use it in your next relationship, but you can't just forget it either. No one else wants to hear about it, and I wouldn't share it with anyone anyway. No matter how badly the relationship ended, I just think there are some things that should be left sacred, between the two.

So what do you do?

being single again, new chapters, and the peace to be okay with it all

I've been single since mid-May, and while I've mentioned it once or twice here on the blog, I've been hesitant to talk about it much. Not because I'm just that heartbrokenOMFGI'MGONNADIE, but because I haven't been.

I've been angry and sad and disappointed. I've felt like the universe cheated me. I've felt like an idiot for investing so much in a relationship that ended.

But, mostly, I've just felt... relieved. The last few months I spent trying to reconcile the pressure of commitment and my own internal voice saying, "No. There's too much left to do."

Waking up and wondering if this - DC, politics, a home without dogs - was "it" was a giant red flag. I cared deeply about my ex, and still do, but I was having to work really hard to try to want that life for the rest of my life. I was trying to convince myself I wanted a future that I don't actually. Finally, I had to admit that being in a relationship that limited my options on where I wanted to live, how often I wanted to travel, what I wanted to say with my life made me feel really trapped.

We had our problems too - it wasn't all about my need for an option to leave. Neither of us were perfect, we both made mistakes. Some mistakes worse than others. But, really, at the end of the day, that's not what matters. It took me realizing one day that I had to stop choosing either our relationship OR my happiness.

A word of advice: If you ever find yourself in a situation where you've having to choose between your happiness and a relationship, a commitment, or a person, seriously consider picking your happiness. I know everyone says not to; that it's selfish to pick your happiness. But it's not necessarily - because if you're not happy, no one else is going to be either.

So, what does this mean for me now? I'm not entirely sure. I'm not tied to DC in any way once my lease is up in September - maybe it'll be time for a Jeep and a trip somewhere else then.

Until then? A lot of life as a single lady. I need some space for myself, to figure out who I am without someone else's expectations, needs, and wants influencing that.

Truthfully? I'm looking forward to this chapter of life -- I don't know that I've ever had this kind of space (single and halfway across the country from my family and friends) to just be myself.

remember that one time I was mess? here's why, and how I'm okay now.

 {via.}

About this time last year, I posted a few emails my friend and I exchanged. Partly because she is one of the best writers ever and I couldn't have summed up what she said any better than how she said it, but also because I was too tired, too sad, too heartbroken to write something down myself. I felt dried out, and empty, and utterly just shattered.

The pieces of my life were sitting there on the ground, and I didn't have the energy to pick them up.

And so I let my friends pick them up for me. Cyndi gave me energy to breathe deeply again and get out of bed. That was probably the biggest thing I needed. The sweet comments left on that aforementioned post helped me clear my mind and see that I would be okay again, someday. Another friend reminded me how to laugh, one reminded me to focus on myself and my hobbies. Eventually, I could write a post about taking a mental health day, and in December I was able joke a little and make a list of nouns I refused to put up with from men in the future (which is still true). Eventually I was able to write one of my favorite posts ever, love, loss, hope, repeat. I was fortunate and the next guy I started dating (and am still dating) passes the nouns test, and is also just a generally good person.

So I guess what I'm saying is that even though that was a painful time, I'm glad I went through it. I'm different because of it, but in a good way. I've stopped dating assholes, and I've learned to take my time when falling in love. And I've learned that my pride/personality/life is mine and even when some guy cheats on me but actually doesn't because he's only pretending he's single but actually has a girlfriend that is studying abroad and you catch them together when she comes back to Texas during her European fall break to surprise him (deep breath) that doesn't change who I am. It doesn't make me less of a bad person that I fell in love with him, even if maybe it does show that I didn't always have the greatest taste in men.

It hurt my pride, but at the end of the day, I'm okay. Hell, I'm better than okay. And so this is a thank you to those that stood by me, to those that encouraged me, and to those that turn their nose up at him when they see him at the only supermarket in town.

love, loss, hope, repeat.

 

{via.}

It's funny how your heart works.

You meet someone. You two click -- he makes your knees weak just by looking at you, or is as passionate about cheese and wine as you are, or hates Olivia Munn the same way you do. He does yoga, or shares the same deep faith you do, or has a career that makes you admire him. He makes you laugh, or can talk politics, or just makes you feel a bit more alive. Basically, he does something right. And maybe you start to think hey, this one might be *the one.*

But then something goes wrong. He learns to like Olivia Munn, or decides to change career paths, or just becomes lactose intolerant. He does something wrong, or he stops doing something right, or maybe it's even your fault. Whatever it was, you've stopped feeling alive when you're together. You go your separate ways.

It doesn't happen every time, but maybe this time you're heartbroken. You eat a lot of ice cream, or you stay in bed for a week, or you go out and drink a lot. You do whatever it takes to get him off your mind, to make you stop feeling like you're drowning in your heartbreak. Eventually, the immediate pain fades, but then you're left feeling bitter and empty. You swear off dating for a while, or maybe you even swear off dating forever.

You do your own thing. You realize you don't need someone else around to hate Olivia Munn, or to still enjoy your yoga classes, or to feel alive. Slowly, you remember how to be happy on your own. You stop drinking as much, you start to laugh again, maybe you rescind your decision to never date again ever.

Then, one day, seemingly out of no where, you notice someone. Maybe it's the guy that's always at Starbucks at the same time as you every morning, or he sits down next to you in class, or you meet randomly on a plane. Maybe it's someone you've always been friends with, but something has changed.

You're hesitant, but a long talk over coffee, or a few sweet text messages, or a grand gesture make you think that maybe you shouldn't brush this one off. He doesn't do any of the same things the other guy did -- he doesn't do yoga, or would always pick beer over wine, or is apathetic to politics. But he has a lot of dogs, or agrees that Jon Stewart hosts better interviews than Stephen Colbert, or is incredibly invested in the volunteer work he does. And it turns out that you think those things are good too.

Without even consciously deciding it, you allow your heart to open just a little bit. You're not head over heels yet, but there's a little flutter of something there, and you find yourself thinking that maybe you could try at least one more time.

Love, loss, hope, repeat.

The One About Sprinklers

{via.}

I know what you're thinking. She's blogging about sprinklers? What the fuck? Things are really going downhill around here.

It's okay. I'm kind of thinking that too. It's like, my life has gotten to the point where sprinklers have to actually be a legitimate subject on my blog. How pathetic am I?

Okay, but here's what happened. A certain amount of time ago, a few friends and I were out at a dance hall in town. Just the girls, hanging out. Being single and awesome. You know. We'd been asked to dance a few times, no big deal. That is, until one of the guys becametotally fixated on me, which was okay for about FIVE SECONDS, which is about how long it took him to start talking to me about sprinklers.

SPRINKLERS, PEOPLE. THIS WAS HIS FLIRTING. HE TALKED TO ME ABOUT SPRINKLERS FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES. Did you know there's like five different types of sprinkler systems frequently used in America? No? Really? Is it because you DON'T CARE KIND OF LIKE ME?

I don't want this to turn into a dating advice blog. Lord knows I'm pretty much the least qualified person to be giving dating advice anyway. But, at the risk of giving bad advice, I will say this:

IF YOU'RE GOING TO FLIRT WITH A GIRL AT A BAR, HAVE SOME GAME.

I don't care if that means coming up with a list of topics to talk about and reviewing it occasionally. I don't care if that means practicing lines in the mirror before going out. I don't care if that even means trying them out on your friends for feedback. Do whatever you have to, because if you find yourself talking to a girl about SPRINKLERS for any period of time and you're NOT talking about getting in swim suits and playing in the sprinklers, nor are you the guy who came to fix her sprinklers, then you are not getting her number at the end of that conversation, my friend.

So, you know, there's my most recent horrifyingly awkward dating story. For the record, I DID try to change the subject, several times. I tried bringing my friends into the conversation. I also tried simply WALKING AWAY. Nothing would deter this guy!

PROTIP, boys: If a girl just GETS UP AND WALKS AWAY FROM YOU while you're in the middle of a sentence, that's probably a sign that you should just give up. Just saying.

And now you should tell me your horrifying dating stories in the comments so I stop wondering if I'm the only one that attracts these crazies. Ready go.

Confessions.

{via.}

Confession is defined as an admission of misdeeds or faults. (You know, according to Google. And we all know how right Google always is.) Well, this is my confession:

I have no idea how to be completely single. Since the seventh grade, I have not been completely single for more than a month. There were times in high school and college where nominally I was, as in we weren't "exclusive" or whatever. But I really don't think I've ever not been involved with someone.

I have no idea how to be alone.

I am completely 100% single rightthissecond and I want to stay that way. I want to meet this single Valorie, this girl who I've never even seen. I'm a little sad that I didn't get to meet her as a teenager, but I assume she'd be cool as a twenty-something too.

Because, let's face it: I need to learn how to be alone.

Right this second, being completely 100% uninvolved with anyone is involving a lot of running, a lot of crying, and listening to "You Start Over Your Way" by Randy Rogers Band on repeat. However, I'm sure this isn't all being single includes. But I'm so used to jumping into another fling or relationship right after this part that I don't know what comes next.

So, confession: I still have a lot to learn.

edit, later: My cousin tweeted this today and I just had to quote it: Single isn't a status. It's a word that best describes a person who is strong enough to live and enjoy life without depending on others. Needed that today.

This post was brought to you in part by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.

Sometimes, Right Now

{via.}

Here's a little something you should know about International Studies majors: We're always planning trips and dying to go abroad and talking about how the second we graduate we're going to move to another country and work for a non-profit or the UN or be an ambassador or do something for the State Department.

I'm told it's inspiring. I'm told we're some of the most liberal and idealistic people on this campus. I'm told our dreams are impressive.

I'm also told we're really hard people to date.

In a school where dating is almost always geared toward marriage, Aggies at some point developed a mentality of 'why bother?' if we know it's not going anywhere. Which has its merits, I'm sure. It means though that people find it hard to commit to someone who is constantly on the verge of escape, that will never stay but will always leave.

And I totally get this. I don't want to get too involved knowing that I'm leaving for China for three months next summer and that December of '11, I'm embarking on some insane world trip which I don't plan on returning from until Fall '12. I don't want to risk wanting to stay when all I've ever really wanted was to leave.

If I'm being honest, I'm okay with being single. I enjoy my freedoms right now. I like being independent, I like not owing anyone anything. I like being on my own. I like that I don't feel as grounded, that I could take off whenever, that I could fly.

But if I'm being really honest, I have to admit that there are things I miss about being stable, about having a boyfriend.

I miss knowing that I definitely had something to do on Friday or Saturday night.

I miss going to scary movies and having a hand to hold.

I miss having someone who would be there to take care of me if I was sick.

I miss sharing secrets late at night under the stars.

I miss sit-down meals and date nights.

I miss being able to depend on someone.

I miss getting flowers and laughing over little inside jokes.

I miss not playing games and not dealing with the hook up culture.

emails to remind me that heartbreak is a universal thing, and that best friends are our soulmates.

{via.}

From: Me
To: Cyndi

He told me he loved me. That's why this is upsetting me so much. He told me he loved me one night when I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up because he was stroking my hair and he whispered it in my ear because he thought I was still asleep. He's the first really good guy who has loved me who I actually had feelings for back (since the high school version of Mr. Man; let's face it, Mr. Man kind of sucks now). He's the first guy that ever shared my political views, that would drop everything and travel if he could, that opened doors for me, that gave me his jacket when I was cold, that wanted to do mundane things with me like go grocery shopping just because he got to be with me, that would rub my back without me asking, and that not only took my dark past in stride but let me hear about his secrets too. He was the Northeastern blonde-haired blue-eyed boy that I've always thought I'd end up marrying (you know, if Rupert Grint was unavailable). He said 'coffee' with that cute Yankee accent and literally gave me goosebumps and made me weak-kneed when he kissed me. Do you know he's actually the first guy that used the word 'beautiful' to describe me? And 'sexy.' No one else has either called me those things -- I get 'pretty,' or 'hot,' but never 'Beautiful.' And yet we could still totally geek out and watch old reruns of Inuyasha together and study together somewhat diligently and fall asleep on the couch cuddling.

I know I said I was going to be careful, that I'd guard myself, that I wouldn't fall for this one. But fuck, by the time I said that I was already way over my head. And I would really desperately like to hate him, but that truth of the matter is that if he knocked on my door rightthissecond and said it was a mistake, that he loves me, that he hates himself, I'd probably take him back. And I really just hate myself for that.

And I totally know this is normal and that every one goes through this and that even though I think right now that he's over me and that I'll never be over him and that my life is over, it's not. So you don't need to remind me. I know I'll be okay. I'm just going to buy some hair dye and some ice cream and I'll be okay soon. But right now, I really need someone else to hate him too, so even though you met him for about five seconds, and know nothing about him, I really need you to tell me that you hate him too.

From: Cyndi
To: Me

1. I read all of this.
2. Hate is a strong word and I refuse to apply it to a singular person. Inanimate objects, sure. People by themselves, no.

But I'll say I hate boys like him.

Boys like him, and like Z. Those boys who are so ridiculously good to you, you initially start out scared for how things'll turn out, because it can't be true. So you edge off a bit, then fall in like Alice through the rabbit hole. And things are seemingly perfect because he seems like the closest you'll ever find to a soul mate because you have the same taste in music, have the same weird habits and can have debates about stupid things like typography. Because he said all those things you've been dying to hear and kissed away every insecurity and instance of self doubt.

But the moment it all ends they leave you in this state of self-loathing. Of wondering why you can't hold on to the only thing you thought was worthwhile in your life and the only person you thought would love you that way. And you live with replayed silly memories as well as the instant that you knew things were over. And you know you'd take him back no matter what. Because lets face it, in my case, Z has been beyond douche, and I'd like to think I wouldn't, but if he so much as skyped me right now being like "I miss you, lets give us another chance, etc." I'd be down for it in a heart beat.

And you know what. It's not normal. Everyone goes through it yes, but its not normal. Because no one should have to feel like this. No one deserves it. No one can act like (or should act like and claim) that this is normal or that you'll ever be okay again. Because you won't be. No matter how subtly this'll change you in some way. And how can that be okay? You'll recover. That's a sure thing. But you've also lost something.

Yes. I hate boys like him. That's the aspect that's ok to hate. I hate them with every fiber in my being and every tear that I shed and every breath and beat that courses through me.

From: Me
To: Cyndi

You're right. I don't hate him. I never could, even if I wanted to. Even if I was okay with hating another human being. But the fact of the matter is that he is another real life person with a thoughts and feelings and a heart beat, a heart beat that once lulled me to sleep and convinced me that everything would be okay, that it was finally safe to be truly happy. And if nothing else, I'll always care deeply about the idyllic few weeks we had before the real world came in and reminded us that nothing is perfect, that happiness is followed by sorrow, and that love is fleeting.

Why don't we interview for everything?

{via.}

In the past few weeks, I've filled out something like 50 trillion applications. Job applications. Organization applications. Volunteer applications. Even a practice law school application (oh yeah, I'm *that* girl). I've gone through so many interviews, it's stupid.

But all this got me thinking: If we go so far as to interview the person who's going to feed our cat for three days while we're out of town ("What is the greatest responsibility you've had in the past?" She asked the eleven-year-old girl), the woman who vacuums our carpets ("Do you have a working knowledge of 409?"), and the volunteer we're going to hire to hand out pieces of paper ("Do you enjoy working with people to reach a common goal?"), these people who we really don't even interact with much, why don't we interview the extremely important people in our lives?

Example: Once we're getting past the flirtatious stage with someone and may actually *like* this person enough to pursue a relationship, why don't we sit them down and ask them some serious questions? i.e.:

Do you come with recommendations of previous employers (in this case, significant others)?

What are your skills/hobbies/interests?

Do you follow instructions well?

Are you a cuddly sleeper?

Do you enjoy working in a group?

You have $50 in your pocket. All your bills are paid. Do you spend this on:

• Beer to drink with the boys
• Dinner with your girlfriend
• Put it in savings
• or some combination of the above?
  

Have you ever been known under another name?

Have you been married before?

How do you define cheating?

Have you ever been convicted of a crime, minor or major?

Are you the type to give flowers, chocolates, jewelry, or none of the above? If yes, do you do this spontaneously or only for special occasions?

Do you speak any languages other than your native tongue?

Are there any crazy exes and/or other sort of previous-significant-other drama I need to be aware of? For instance, is there any chance that some woman somewhere is giving birth to a child of yours right now?

It's date night, do you a) Do dinner and a movie, b) Cook dinner at home, c) Party, or d) Other? If "other," elaborate.

Do you enjoy traveling?

Describe your skill level in relation to things such as fixing anything broken and building stuff around the house.

How do you feel about kids?

Do you have a working knowledge of how to give a good back massage?

How do you handle crisis situations?

Are you good with taking out the trash and killing all the bugs as long as I keep the house clean and make sure not to take over the bathroom counter with makeup?

Why are you interested in pursuing a relationship with me?

I feel like asking these basic questions would really save people a lot of problems down the road. You know, no nasty surprises like finding out the night before your wedding that he doesn't want kids and you want a houseful, and etc.

Currently, I'm not accepting applications. But if I ever am in the future, I'm seriously considering implementing this corporate strategy.

That Time I Found Out Mr. Man Would Rather Fight a Great White Than Own a Parrot

{via.}

I have bruises and scratches all up and down my arms. I wish I could tell you a story about sexy time on a kitchen counter or a bull riding competition or a really epic white water rafting trip, but the real reason is so much more embarrassing.

Earlier today, Mr. Man and I decided we needed a trip to a pet store. He really wants a shark or maybe another dog (both of which are sold nearby… I know, sharks? What the hell?) and even though I told him it was a dangerous idea, he contended that he fears nothing and off to the puppy store we went.
No, these bruises are not from him having to drag me away from the puppies, though that probably almost had to happen because it was like a cutegasm going on in there. Yes, I said cutegasm. Get over it!

Anyways. Apparently Mr. Man lied about this “fears nothing” thing.

So, there was this parrot. I was petting it because it seemed friendly and I like parrots and it kept bobbing it’s head the same way I do when I’m laughing at another’s expense, which made us bond immediately. Mr. Man joined me, petting the bird only after a moment’s hesitation. We were talking and I was refusing to leave because the parrot was just so darn cute, when it jumped on Mr. Man’s wrist.

Mr. Man didn’t like this. I think the bird sensed his unease because it started walking up his arm toward his head. That only made Mr. Man freak out more and he started ducking like he was going to fall into the fetal position at any moment. He finally whimpered, “Get it off me,” and I knew we had a problem.

I started trying to get the bird to go back on the peg. Mr. Man was continuing to cower, and the bird was bobbing it’s head like it’s really really happy. It even made little cooing sounds that would have been cuter in any other situation.

That’s when I realized it: Mr. Man is afraid of large birds. This is a problem, because I’m skittish around loud sounds, and this damn bird had both size and sound aplenty. So as I tried to rescue Mr. Man from the parrot dancing on his back, the damn thing was squawking as loud as it could and flapping it’s overlarge wings at me rather violently. It hit me, I stumbled back onto the cage, Mr. Man yelled at it, it tried to fly but can’t so squawked even more and started clawing at my arms and Mr. Man’s head. Finally, blessfully, a woman that worked there came and rescued us, saying the simple command “up,” to the damn thing and putting it back on it’s peg. Mr. Man and I froze as if saved from a train, then immediately felt pathetic. We ducked out of the pet store, nursing our wounds and hurt pride over cheesesticks.

And that’s how two adults lost a fight against a bird.

anniversaries.

"You will try to run and he will let you,

but he will be standing exactly where you left him
when you went ahead and lost your mind.
Not because he has nowhere else to be or because he's a pushover,
but because he understands you are worth waiting for.
And you are, not because he proved it to you,
but because he gave you the time to realize it yourself."

--Anais Escobar

Need everything in life be defined?

{via.}

Love. It's this ridiculous, powerful emotion (or way of life?) that ties us all together; it is our one thing to bind us as a common race, yet it it remains so elusive and impossible to pin down and get a good look at.

But if we could look at it, examine it, hold it in our hand and name it's attributes, would we all see the same thing? It's different for all of us, I feel sure of that.

For me, being in love is about feeling just a little bit more alive when with that person. It's about feeling like there is excitement in every direction and that we could strike sparks anywhere. It's about having a universal sense that what we're doing is right.

To me, falling in love is finding someone who enjoys watching movies and cuddling on the couch as much as I do. It's about being with someone who wants to live as loudly, voraciously, and in the moment as I do. It's someone who laughs when I'm being crazy and holds me when I'm sad, and will let me do the same for him. Love is finding someone who is enthusiastic about a simple night hanging out with friends over pizza, and believes like I do that some things in life, like alcohol, sex, and friendships get better with intensity. Love is finding someone who can sometimes surprise you by knowing you better than you know yourself and can identify the smallest parts of your person and love them.

In a lover, I need a man that understands that there are always going to be things that I over-analyze, and he definitely can't scare easy. He needs to accept that the only things I'm sure about in life are my love of coffee, my love of hugs, and my need to write. He needs to understand that I have a weird thing about my wrists and they cannot be touched, and that there are some things I just have to do in a certain order. I need someone who can be vocal about his feelings for me and isn't afraid to hold my hand in front of his friends. I need someone who is spontaneous and will drag me along on his adventures when I'm being too cautious, and will also come along on my escapades. I want someone who can handle me, but won't try to tame me, and also understands that I may try to run, but I'll always come back.

I don't need someone who is thinking about the future too much because I'll be thinking about it enough for the both of us. And I need him to be okay with the fact that I'm going to do that. I don't need someone who will tell me I'm his world because he has a whole world of things that don't include me, just as I have a whole world of things that don't include him. At the foundation of all these definitions is a safe place; I need someone who will keep me safe in his heart, who will let me have a warm place to come home to. I want him to stand next to me, to block out the world when I can't handle it, face it with me when I can and say, "Bring it on."

How do you define love? Is there anything you need or look for?

This post has been brought to you in part by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.

Feet Love.

This is a little cute something my teacups in peony has been doing lately, and I thought I'd join in this week. Mr. Man and I relaxing in his room. :)

Weekend Whoop!

Okay, back to the Weekend Whoop this week! Get excited! Don't forget, you should TOTALLY participate, Aggie or not. Whoooop! is for awesome things that happened, while tssss is for lame things that t-sips do. :)

Friday: I got out of class at 10:20 (my 2:30 class was cancelled) which was AWESOME. I spent the most of the day running errands and lame things, but I got to study with my good friend Mollee that afternoon for a while. That night, she and I went to a shindig with a bunch of friends, which ended in a 2 am IHOP run, which, let's be honest here, is always the best way to end a night. (That's Tim being a messy eater. He's fun.) Whoooop!

Saturday: In the morning, I went to the gym and had a really tough workout that I'm still pretty stinkin' sore from. But that was awesome. Whoooop! I then drove up to Waco to see Mr. Man. He had the day off, so we had lunch together and went for a walk down by the Brazos River. (That is the river that runs through Waco, right?) We totally walked across a bridge that we definitely weren't supposed to and almost died in the process, but I've got this new-found need to try everything once, so I was all for it. Whoooop!

You can't tell in this photo, but he's telling me to stop taking pictures and hurry up. We see how that went. :)

I have this new obsession with photos of people walking away from the camera. I'm not sure why, but I dig it. What do y'all think? These ducks were AWESOME. They let us get close enough to touch them. They were so cute, like a couple. :)

That night, I also went and saw Bounty Hunter with a few friends. It was kind of predictable, but really good, see it if you get the chance. :)

Sunday: Ugh. Studying all day long. I have two tests this week, so it had to happen. It sucked though. :( tssssss. That's about all I've got for you for today.

How was your weekend? :)

Broken Heart Story

I found this quote on teacups in peony's blog and I fell in love with it immediately. It's exactly how I feel about how Mr. Man and I's break up a few years ago. I don't know if you've ever had your heart broken by a boy, but I think we've all had our hearts broken by something, so maybe you'll enjoy this too:

"And maybe, just maybe, her heart needed to be broken. Broken and shattered and stomped into pieces. Then she could finally look down at the pieces, study each one and spend time getting to know the person she'd become. And when she finally had all the pieces back together again, a little crooked, a little jumbled but sealed firmly with love, she'd realized she was more beautiful than ever. Because this time, she would love herself."

-sigh.- True story. I know I'm a stronger person because I was broken hearted and alone for so long. What about y'all?

edit:// Apparently, I wasn't totally clear in this -- this is an old breakup, from before college. We've since gotten back together. :)

The Art of Being Facebook Official

Between the marriage post and every totally awkward post, I'm pretty sure you guys understand how weird my friends and I are. And what kinds of utter shenanigans we get into.

This, though, THIS is a whole different thing.

Recently, some of my friends demanded I become "Facebook Official" with Mr. Man.

When I say "demanded," I pretty much mean exactly that, actually. I was told it wasn't okay that I wasn't wearing one of his rings on a chain around my neck, and so I need to make our relationship more public because omg, what if someone doesn't realize I'm not single and like...hits on me?

One. The only ring that man wears is the one I gave him for our 1.5 year anniversary. The one that matches the one I wear every day. It seems super redundant for me to be wearing two of the same ring and him nothing. Kthanksbye.

Two. WHAT THE WHAT IS THIS WEIRD TEXAS A&M MENTALITY? I swear. Because this isn't just my weird friends, I promise. Only in College Station does it mean that if you're not talking about your boyfriend/girlfriend 24/7 or basically have his/her name tattooed on your forehead, that means you're cheating. What is this obsession with being in a relationship and getting married? There's this whole cult belief here that if you don't graduate with two rings, you have somehow failed.

So. The logic was that if we don't make it Facebook Official (yes, capital F, capital O), we were going to cheat on each other. Obviously.

What? How exactly is having "In a Relationship With..." on my FACEBOOK FORCRYINGOUTLOUD going to stop other people from flirting with me? Are they going to ask to friend me, check my status, then decide "should I ask this girl to dance?" Like, REALLY? And how is a little clickylink going to stop me from cheating? I mean, Mr. Man is 100+ miles away. If I really wanted to cheat on him, I could, and he'd never have to know.

Don't worry, Mr. Man, I'm not going to cheat on you. :)

Yet, even urbandictionary has defined it as "the ultimate definition of a college relationship." And you know if it's on urbdic, that shit's real. ...SERIOUSLY?! STOP TAKING OVER MY LIFE, FACEBOOK.

I mean, he and I know we're committed to each other and each other only. Isn't that enough?

Lesson Learned: Aggies are not well-equipped for life outside of Aggieland.

The One Where I Tell You About That Marine I Dated

Surprised, huh? I've only mentioned this Marine once before, and only in passing.

Well, we were never boyfriend-girlfriend. Which makes me wonder what to call him, because That-One-Ex-Marine-I-Dated is long and annoying to type out.

The-Cutey-From-My-US-History-Class-I-Made-Out-With?

That-Military-Guy-That-Changed-My-Perspective-On-US-Armed-Forces?

That-Boy-That-Got-Me-Hooked-On-Whiskey&Dr.Pepper-And-Old-Western-Flicks?

The-Guy-Who-Convinced-Me-That-"Cowboy Churches"-Are-Cooler-And-That-I-Should-Move-To-Montana?

Yeah, because all of those are so much shorter, Valorie. Good job. What a winner.

Anyways. I'm thinking about Marine right now because I had Wendy's earlier. The only time before now that I'd been to that particular Wendy's was when I once went with Marine and we he played a prank on the girl at the window, ordering 2 chicken burgers and then insisting that he'd actually ordered like 12 and was mad she messed up his order. ...It was funny at the time, I promise.

Eh-hem. Right. So, every time I pass that Wendy's, I crave a whiskey/dr.pepper and a night in watching old western movies. Then I wonder about what Marine is doing now -- not because I miss him that way; he transferred schools and we've lost touch. Then, I think about Marines in general. And then I think about all our boys overseas, and I wonder what they're doing now. And I get kind of worried about them. And while Marine always talked about his previous tours like he mostly enjoyed them, there was clearly something not-as-enjoyable that he was holding back, and that scares me. I mean, I know those men (and women, let's not forget them) are brave, they signed up for this, they knew what they were getting into... but still.

I used to not do that. I don't want to say I was un-supportive of our military exactly, but I definitely wasn't behind them. I was pretty neutral. Switzerland. Their reality didn't seem real to me. After dating Marine, it's real to me now.

I don't know how much I support the war we're involved in. I don't know whether or not I think it's "right" that we're there. I just don't know. I feel like there's a lot of details and complex subtleties about this whole situation that I'll never understand.

But I support the Marines that are there. I support all the men and women that are over there, fighting for what they believe in, defending our country. So, thank you, Marine for that. By sharing your story, even what little of it I actually got a chance to hear, my view of the military has changed dramatically.

If you can read this, thank a teacher. If you're an American reading this in English, thank a soldier.

Happy Ooey-Gooey Mushy Day

Honestly, I was considering not even acknowledging this poor excuse for a holiday on my blog. I'm of the hating-Valentine's-camp, for what I (and many others, I'm sure) think is a good reason. I just... Don't understand why we dedicate only ONE day of the whole YEAR to telling our significant other that we care about them. We should do that every day! You know? I'm sure that's not the first time you've heard that argument, and it definitely won't be the last, but... I don't know, I feel pretty strongly about it.

Of course, Mr. Man knows all this, so he put aside his hopeless romantic tendencies and we had a very chill holiday -- in fact, I didn't even leave my apartment until I walked him out to his car when he left to drive home. He was here all weekend, so we slept in late (NOON! I never sleep that late!), relaxed and grazed (my term for "snacking") all day. I made him my AWESOME chocolate chip pancakes for lunch and we watched a four hour marathon of I Shouldn't Be Alive on the Discovery Channel, followed by dinner and Sweet Home Alabama. :) We shared some chocolates and said "Happy Valentine's, sweetie," and that was that.

Granted, we did go out dancing last night, but that was more a big group thing and Mr. Man really only went because I told him I was going with or without him and that he didn't actually have to dance, he just had to go. (He didn't dance, but he had fun and he's going to learn to country-western dance now.) We're very blunt/honest with each other, as you can tell. :) I think it makes for a healthy relationship. Better than sugar-coating and lying, right? Let's hope.

Happy Valentine's Day, blog-loves. Did y'all celebrate?

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Reason #2934589

The following text message transcript is reason #2934589 why Mr. Man is pretty much the best boyfriend ever:

Mr. Man: How're you feeling, sweetie?

Me: Crappy. :( I'm really sick.

Mr. Man: I'm sorry. :( That really sucks.

Me: I know. It may be a bad idea for you to come down here this weekend. I don't want to get you sick. :(

Mr. Man: I'll be there. I'd rather take care of you all weekend than not see you on Valentine's.

He's wonderful. And on his way down. And I'm out of tissues.


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Weekend Update

Wow. This past weekend was intense. I went home and it was so incredibly full of things happening that it's going to be hard to remember it all to tell you.

Friday: Got out of class late and didn't get to hit the road until seven. Encountered four wrecks between my apartment and the highway. :( Finally got home and went to my friend Jason's 23rd birthday dinner. We all went to a really cute Italian restaurant and sat around chitchatting until past one.

Saturday: Had to take my laptop, my baby that isn't a fur-baby, to the doctor (Apple Store) because the CD drive stopped working. :( But later I got to have lunch with Sydney and her fiancé (I told y'all about them on Wednesday, remember?) and that was awesome. They're really quite perfect for each other, and I'm really excited for them. :) After lunch, we watched the movie Up! (Seen it? It's kind of sad, but good.) That night I met my friend Melissa for dinner and coffee, which was awesome. We talked for hours and had a lot of fun. :) We used to be incredibly close but had a brief -- 9 month long -- falling out, so we're still getting back on our feet and regaining all our trust from that. After that was when the really intense part of the weekend started. I dated a guy in high school for a year and a half and ever since we broke up we've been trying to be friends and have been hanging out occasionally but it's been awkward and difficult. Well, to make a really long story short, I hung out with him on Saturday night, we talked for about five hours (about why we broke up in the first place, why things went so badly after we broke up, etc.) and decided to get back together! I know, it's kind of hasty, but we both admitted that our feelings had never changed and we really want to give this another try. So, if I refer to Mr. Man, that's who I'm talking about (I've decided not to use his real name).

Sunday: I went out for brunch with some family friends and exchanged (incredibly late) Christmas presents (I got a gift card for a massage! Hooray!). We had a lot of fun just catching up. Both the girls are in high school now, so it was refreshing to finally be able to talk to them like they're people, not kids (I've literally watched them grow up). I saw Mr. Man once more before leaving, which was nice because this is going to be long distance (he's in Dallas, I'm at TAMU), but I unfortunately had to leave Precious back at the house (that's the emotional thing I referred to last week) because she's much happier there. She wasn't eating much here because she was depressed and missed her fellow dog-friends, and I just couldn't do that to her anymore.

How were your weekends? :) <3