Let’s be honest, dating sucks. Especially in the beginning. The bombardment of get-to-know-you questions can be overwhelming to say the least. Nothing drives this point home quite so much as a first date with someone who is dead set on finding out what really makes you tick.

Let’s set the scene, shall we? I am on a first date with “Guy”. He is dropping me off at my car and we are sitting in his SUV chatting.

Guy: “How long ago did you and your ex break up.”

Me: “Oh…hmmm…we broke up last May.”

Guy: “So it’s been over six months now. What went wrong there? Why did you two break up?”

Me: “Well, let’s see…ummmm, I guess we had a lot of communication issues? I mean he is a GREAT guy, but very hard to be in a relationship with. Yeah…so, um, how about you? How long ago did you and your ex break up?”

Guy:  “It’s been just over a year. I think I spent the first four months being pissed at her. Then I switched the blame to me and accepted my role in things and it was amazing. As soon as I could let go of my anger I was able to get over things.”

Me: “I know what you mean. I spent the first several months feeling hurt and rejected. I thought that once I left he would realize what he was losing and want me back. But he never did.”

Guy: “Yes but that’s good, right? I mean besides your ego being hurt, isn’t it better that there wasn’t the back and forth and further toying with emotions?”

Me: “Yes….I suppose you have a good point. And just like in your case, as soon as I accepted my role in everything it was easier to let go and start to move on. We had communication issues from the very first date, I just chose to ignore them.. He was always the same person. It was never fair for me to expect him to magically know what to do or to say the right things. So that was on me. I should have known better.”

Guy: “I can see this is still a little fresh for you.”

Me: “Yeah… I guess it kind of is.”

Our date ended with a short hug goodnight. I don’t think he’ll be asking me out again anytime soon.

I would like to believe that I have moved on. I would like to believe that I no longer miss him. For the most part I can shove his memory far enough into the back of my mind that I don’t think of him. But every once in awhile, I find myself on a road trip with nothing but contemplative time, and I admit out loud to myself and the passengers in the car that I still hurt. Or I find myself on an interrogation of a date where no matter how cooly I try to play it, a stranger can see in my eyes that I am still not quite over my broken heart.

That said, this post is not meant to be a lament to missing my ex, nor is it necessarily about first dates. All of that is simply a build up to the conclusion I have come to. This post is about time.

On a work trip to L.A., I woke abruptly in the middle of the night, alone, in a hotel room. I was wide awake with one piercing thought running through my head. I couldn’t stop tossing and turning, rolling this thought over and over in my mind. Finally, in defeat, I turned on the light and scribbled it down on the notepad beside the bed.

Sleeping in the middle of the bed takes time.
Go back to bed and try again.

Time is everything. It takes time to learn how to enjoy being single again. It takes time to mend a broken heart. It takes time to remember how to trust. It takes time to love again.

I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that I believe in time. We shouldn’t take it for granted, like it will always be there, but I do think we should trust in it’s healing powers. We can’t rush the process. We have to take it one day at a time. Pretty soon the right time will come and we won’t have to question it – we will just know, our hearts will feel it. Until then, we have to be patient. We have to be patient with our hearts, the healing process, and love. Love will find us again when we have let go of all of the hurt, bitterness and fear that we cling to as if it will be the thing to save us. It won’t save us, only time will. The sooner we accept this, the better of we’ll be. That is the purpose of this post. To simply say that I have accepted time, with all of it’s flaws and blatant disregard to my own personal timeline, it is the only thing I am putting my trust in.

Until the day when get-to-know-you questions do not unearth emotional wounds and I have mastered how to sleep in the middle of the bed, I trust time.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating, sometimes I get on a soap box

As I approach the end of my dating hiatus (which I have stuck to…almost completely), I am hesitant to dip my toes back into the dating water.

Am I ready?

No.

Will I ever be ready?

No.

This single time in my life has been anything but dull. I have enjoyed the shit out of it. I dare say this has been one of the most fun summers of my life! If you were to follow my life via Instagram, Twitter or Facebook, you would think my life is one giant vacation, and it has been, interrupted only by a job that I love. I have amazing friends and have had the opportunity to travel, camp, boat, hike, go to several concerts, and fly on a private jet (yeah, still taking that one in too!). In short, I haven’t been home lamenting being single, I’ve been embracing it in all it’s glory!

Recently a new male friend of mine made an offhanded comment over text message that he was sure many men have tried to “tame me” and they had lost.

Tame me?

What an interesting choice of words. I have been mulling and toying with these words over and over for some time now. Tame…me?

After my breakup with Cute I felt there must be something wrong with me. Then, when I saw that my boyfriend before Cute, ED, had gotten married and had a new family, I felt even more convinced that the problem lied in me. I mean, it’s hard not to feel that way when you see another woman able to make a relationship work with the man that you couldn’t.

The thought that perhaps the men of my past were not strong willed and dedicated enough to tame me hadn’t really occurred. I known that the right man has not come into my life,  I’ve just never really known why the men of my past were not that right man. I thought they were the right man at the time, that was why I was dating them. In the end they let me go, regardless of who dumped who – they could not hold onto me. I was too much work, too intimidating, too wild(?) to be tamed.

(I sound like a wild mustang. Maybe that’s why as a little girl I always thought I’d marry a cowboy.)

In all fairness, the friend who made the taming comment is a new friend. He has only seen fun-loving single Summer who went to Vegas three times within a six week period, who likes to stay up late, push the limits and dance at the clubs. His view as to why I may be hard to tame is different from mine. To him I look like a party girl. Hell, I am a bit of a party girl – especially after a breakup. But the real reason I think men have failed to tame me is because I require a lot. You must make me laugh, be a good listener, challenge me mentally, adore me, attract me, support my career, have a career of your own, love adventure, be fully committed to me, hold me when I cry, and be patient enough to fight through the non-communicative shell I resort to whenever I am upset.

Simple, right?

My hesitation in dating again is that I’ll just find more of the same caliber of men that I have spent my whole life dating. 90% of them were not bad guys – they just lacked one or more of the above mentioned traits and the sticking power/gumption needed to keep me.

I have my faults, my quirks, my wild side, my stubborn side. But for all of the negatives of me, I am also a pretty fabulous person. I give selflessly, love passionately, support unabashedly, laugh freely, cook creatively, drink sailor-y, and share fully.

I have a lot to give. I’m just hoping there is still someone out there worth giving it to, someone who is not just looking for a good time, someone who is actually looking to build a future.

Tame me? If only someone would.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating

Now that I am officially on a dating hiatus, I’d like to take a moment to revel in the complete awesomeness that is single life.

Right now I am sitting on my back porch. It is lit up with Christmas lights, the type that hang down to resemble icicles. I put them up for a housewarming party and never took them down because they look so perfect in my adorable little back yard.  It is night. The crickets are chirping freakishly loud. My cat is sitting on the porch on the lookout for trespassing bugs or varmints. The night is warm. I am sitting at a small patio table wearing a tanktop and panties. From my kitchen a shuffle mix of my favorite music is blaring out at me.

Tonight I went to the gym, came home, watered the lawn and cooked myself a lovely dinner of pork chops, zucchini and sliced tomatoes. I have had a little over a half a bottle of an equally lovely white wine. After dinner I danced in my room while putting away laundry. I wore my ultra girly pink gloves while doing the dishes. I gave myself my nightly facial and I am feeling relaxed.

Being single has it’s completely wonderful moments. Tonight is one of them. I am alone. I am happy. I am not judging myself for being alone. I am at peace.

I’ll be honest. There has been a few times throughout the night that I’ve wondered if I should text one of my cute neighbors to come over and help me drink my wine. But then I rubbed Bengay on my sore knees and realize that if they came over not only would I have to put on pants but I’d have to not smell like an old folks home. WAY too much work.

Right now I am wondering why in the world I have been trying so hard to stay busy. Just chilling out at home is awesome. I think it has finally occurred to me why people choose to stay single. It’s because being self-sufficient and selfish is great. I mean, really, really great. I am not trying to please anyone but myself. I am doing exactly what I want to be doing. I am taking care of my own needs and I am not the least bit bitter about it.

Last night was not as quite as great. I worked until 8. Went to the gym and got home around 9:30. The relationship-me remembered when I used to go to school at night. I would walk up to my relationship-house smelling homemade food. I would enter the house to find a plate of delicious food, a glass of wine and a giant hug and kiss from an oh so pleased with himself man.

It was nice to be taken care of.

But now things are different. I have a new peace. I have crickets. I have an almost full moon. I have my little backyard with it’s charming lights. I have my favorite music playing, my cat keeping guard, and a now mostly empty bottle of lovely white wine. I am not thinking of my next date. I have no plans for the weekend to entertain anyone but myself. I am not drinking to forget – I am drinking for no other reason than because it behoves me to do so.

These beautiful single moments will not last forever. Sooner or later I’ll find myself back on the dating wagon. So for right now, I am going to enjoy the hell out of living for only me. Life is beautiful. Sitting here pantsless, smelling like Bengay, wine and pork chops is priceless. Not necessarily sexy, but it is a single moment meant just for me.

I am happy.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating, Just me

Being single in my 30’s has proven to be interesting. People have slowly stopped telling me that I am young and to take my time. Why? Because the truth of the matter is that I’m not that young and time-is-a-tickin! People are gracious enough to stop sugarcoating that fact. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m also not old…but if I ever want to have a shot at having an offspring of my own, I need to get a move on.

Think about it. I still have to meet the man of my dreams, date him, marry him, and get preggers.

That stuff takes time. Lots of time!

It’s not like soul mates come along every day. And let’s be honest, I don’t have the best track record of picking the right guy. I end up falling in love with emotionally unavailable men. Men who don’t want the same things as me. That makes them the wrong guy. The right guy should have the same goals and aspirations as me. We should want the same things, i.e. love, marriage and a spawn of our own.

Sometimes I feel like I should have been a little more reckless in my youth. Used a little less birth control. Because if I had a child of my own already I might not feel this pressure to find someone. Who knows, I did try and get pregnant once when I was married, but to no avail. I’ve always thought that was a blessing, but, perhaps maybe it wasn’t?

However…now that I’ve talked about getting older, time being ticking and the fact that I want a rugrat of my own, I’ve decided not to go in search of love. I’ve decided to go on a dating hiatus.

I mean, not forever, but at least until the end of September.

Because here’s the thing, being single is also incredibly awesome. I get to do what I want, when I want, and how I want. Nothing shitty about that. I want to be selfish for a while and keep my time as just that – MY TIME. Oh, and while I’m being selfish, I’ll also work on becoming a better person, growing my business, and preparing my mental well being so that when the time is right for Mr. Man of my Dreams to stroll into the picture, I will recognize him and I will be ready for him.

Right now I am not ready. My wounds are all too fresh. I look at cute, happy couples and am completely baffled by them. How do they do it? How has that old couple still holding hands managed to make it work? What does it feel like to have enough faith in a relationship that you can fight and still stick around to work things out? How do you let someone in and love and trust them unconditionally with the faith that they will love and trust you back?

I don’t get it. And that’s sad, because I really feel like I should. So until I do get it, let the non-dating games begin!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating

It is very hard for me to write during this particular time in my life.

Some people are very private. They like to keep their problems to themselves. I am not some people.

Normally writing is cathartic. A weight gets lifted from my chest every time I hit “submit” and release my problems into the untouching arms of the internet.

Now things are different. I find myself with a new, conservative career. I also find myself with readers who actually know me, and even some who are trying to get to know me.

Don’t misunderstand me. My blog has never been a secret. I am not embarrassed by it. In fact, I have always been rather proud of it.

But recent events, recent “breaks”, recent feelings that I have shared, have had a backlash. This is not the first time. It is, however, the first time I’ve been selfless enough to care.

I don’t like hurting people. The sharpness of words can cut emotional wounds.

So what do I say? What can I write? How do I get my release?

Do I quit writing? Do I quit sharing? Do I write and not share? Do I only tell bubble-gum stories and leave the grittiness of feelings out of it?

Oh how I would love to write about a day of double betrayal, seeing my ex for the first time in public, and the excitement and sheer comedy of going on dates again.

I’m struggling to find a balance. Writing without posting doesn’t give me the same fix. I like to feel as if I have put myself out there and said what is in my heart. People can decide to like it, or they can decide not to. Either way, it is no longer bent up inside of me.

The problem lies in the fact that my stories involve others. They are not just about me.

I feel as though I need to have an alias or write a dating column for some small city where no one actually knows me. But then again, even if I was by some miracle able to do this, um, this is the internet and nothing stays secret for long.

So buttoned up I will be for now. At least about the juicy gossip that everyone wants to hear about. I’m sorry, but what else am I to do?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Bag full of complaints, blogging, Dating debating

My hair is in his drain.

There are boxes in the office.

Our dirty clothes are in the same hamper.

He’s finally getting a DVR.

There is healthy food in the fridge; not just condiments and beer.

My decorations are blending with his decorations (plants count as decoration, right?).

He now has a kitchen table. His friends are about to be blown away.

I have a key. He no longer has to buzz me through the front door.

The non-rule breaker helped me sneak in my cat to his “no pets allowed” residence.

He cooks for me.

He lets me study.

He kisses me good morning and good night.

He is possibly the greatest roommate ever.

Even though I am going through massive amounts of stress and challenges in my life right now, it feels amazing to know I have one piece of stability in my life.

My boyfriend, my Cute.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating, Finding Home

It’s only natural that people want to know, how did I meet Cute?

It’s a classic story really.

Boy meets girl. Boy gets girl’s number. Boy asks girl out. Girl accepts after a thorough Facebook investigation. Sparks fly and hearts are all a flutter.

Great story right?

Boooring.

The truth is that I went out, in public, dressed in full blown costume to a friends 80’s Prom themed birthday party.

Did I mention it was at a bar?

Fortunately my friends are incredibly fun and 90% of the party was also promed to the max.

I proceeded to drink, as one is prone to do when dressed ridiculously at a party, and was having a great time. I certainly didn’t think in my wildest dreams that I would meet somebody. I was loud, and giggly, and playing the role of a 80’s diva. Then, when I least expected it, my friend Chris walked up with a beautiful tall man.

“Summer, this is Jaron. Jaron, this is Summer.”

And then Chris walked away.

I was taken a little aback to be honest. Here I was with CLAW BANGS! God awful CLAW BANGS and blue eyeshadow! And now here was this tall, handsome drink of water standing in front of me that I was supposed to converse with. Who, by the way, was not in costume what-so-ever.

I could have killed my friend just then.

But instead I did what I do best. I laughed, I smiled, and I rolled with the punches.

We chatted for quite a while and as my sister Staci was dragging me out of the bar because it was closing time, he asked for my number – which, of course, I gave him.

He immediately text me saying, “This is the tall, dark, and handsome man you met tonight, Jaron. ”

He waited the appropriate two days to call me, and yes, the part about checking him out on Facebook before accepting was true. He seemed legit, outside of a leftover picture from China which still had what I assumed was his ex-girlfriend so I accepted his date invite. We hit it off immediately and have been inseparable ever since.

Whoda thunk…finding love at an 80’s party?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

*To see more fabulously 80′s pictures, visit my Flickr page.

Dating debating

Hello class. You will have to forgive me in advance, today’s lesson comes from a place of deep seeded anger and there is something I just need to get off my chest.

What? You don’t think teachers get angry and vent to their class? Think again.

Today’s lesson is on a little thing I like to call “environmental dating.”

Environmental Dating: the act of dating a person whom you have previously had a relationship with in an effort to avoid going out of your comfort zone to meet someone new, yet expecting a new (happier) outcome.

Synonyms include: re-dating, second chances, recycling, re-use, starting over, insanity, rerun

I will admit to being the worst offender of environmental dating. For those of you who are not long time Blogfully Your’s readers, I’ve mentioned environmental dating at least a half dozen times. Hell, that’s how my ex got his blog name of ED in the first place! We dated, broke up. Dated, broke up. Took a year break. Dated, broke up. Etc. Etc.

Learn from my mistakes people, do not date your exes!

But, but, you love him/her and they swear they have changed…

(insert rolling of eyes)

Fine.

You get one chance.

ONE.

Follow my simple environmental dating golden rule:

If at first you don’t succeed, go ahead, try again.

But, if at second you don’t succeed,

STOP! FUCKING! TRYING!

Blogfully yours,

Miss Summer

Dating debating, Summer School

What can I say? John and I broke up. It was the right thing to do. I really did like the idea of he and I together–he is smart, successful, organized, knows what he wants and has expensive taste–but in the end the spark was not there for me. He did nothing wrong. In fact, he did everything as right as he possibly could have.

I knew things were on the wrong track when he went out of town and I found myself miserably missing not him. Right or wrong I always compared him to my ex who I am admittedly still completely hung up on. I mean, I was going to marry the man for god sake (not that we were engaged or anything, but, you know, that was the direction we would have been on) so obviously I was crazy about him! It wasn’t fair to John. It never was from the beginning. How could he ever have a chance at getting into my heart when I never got my heart back to begin with?

Dating is a crazy messed up game, and you know it totally is a game. It’s the worst type of game too. There are all sorts of unspoken rules, manipulations, and mind games. The scores are never transparent and in the end there are rarely any winners; simply broken hearts and the longing to play the game with someone new. Or in my case, the longing to play the game with a past opponent.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating

I’ve been holding back. Sure, I’ve eluded, but I haven’t come right out and said it.

I’m seeing someone.

Like, pretty much exclusively.

I’m not sure why I just said “pretty much,” he is the only one I am seeing. I guess it makes me feel like things aren’t happening fast if I use ambiguous terms to describe our relationship.

Last week I introduced him TWICE as my friend. As in, “Hi, this is my friend John.”

I don’t think he noticed.

Actually, I know he didn’t.

I know this because last night he slipped and introduced me as his girlfriend to a few of his friends. I neither corrected him nor had an anxiety attack in public. When he was bringing me home later I pointed out his blunder along with how I introduced him the week before. He simply shrugged and said that I could introduce him however I wanted and when I felt comfortable enough to use that terminology to let him know.

Just like that. So mellow. So adorable. Maybe his easy going nature has something to do with his age. He is eleven years older than me. Strangely enough this doesn’t bother me. Quite the opposite actually. He has his career established, knows what he likes and doesn’t like, he is crazy about me, isn’t on Facebook and swears he has no intention of ever reading my blog.

All winning points in my book.

Why keep him a secret then? I guess it’s because I’ve been busy enjoying the newness and not wanting to jinx things by talking about him too soon.

But… now I’m putting it out there. I am officially, pretty much, seeing a man exclusively – that I am not calling my boyfriend.

Wow. Somebody’s got commitment issues and that somebody is probably, most likely me.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating