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

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.

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

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

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

The left shoes in my closet rejoiced. Well, all except for the heels who are still on suspension for another six weeks.

The doctor gave me a few exercises to do and cleared me to slowly start back to the gym. He told me which activities to avoid and said to start taking short walks through the neighborhood, down two houses and back, until I gradually worked my way up to longer walks.

Hmm…

This weekend I walked through a mall to meet a friend for a drink, went to Home Depot, mowed the grass using an old fashioned push mower, raked my yard, cut bushes back, swept the patio, blew the patio (get your mind out of the gutter), went to IKEA and walked through the entire mega-furniture store, and went swimming.

Hardly down two houses and back.

In other news, my friends have encouraging me to start dating. You know, nothing serious, just to get my mind off of things and to slowly get back into the action. I agreed to be set up on a double date with a man who I had met previously at a social gathering.

We’ve now been on five dates together – the first two I was still on crutches.

Obviously this word “slowly” just does not seem to compute in my brain.

I didn’t set out to spend so much time on my ankle, it just sort of happened. I didn’t set out to spend so much time with one man, it just sort of happened too. Sure, his excellent taste in wine and restaurants, coupled with his ability to make me laugh, may have had something to do with it.

I don’t know what I am doing.

I know it’s not a race to the finish line. If it was, I am sure I would lose. Frankly, it just feels good to be in the race again. Even if I am only clumsily making my way through the course trying not to get re-injured.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

“You know Summer, you can’t do this forever. You need to deal with this, have a break down. It’s not healthy to do what you are doing.” Caring words I know to be true, spoken by a loved one.

“Maybe tomorrow,” is all I reply. 

Today is tomorrow.

You’d think with as many break-ups as I’ve been through I’d be a pro at going through them. Which, maybe I am. Only this time it’s so much harder because it wasn’t a two month let’s try this out sort of relationship. This was a you’re the one I am going to spend the rest of my life with kind of relationship.

Cue the water works.

Rather than publicly hash out the details of our break-up I wanted to write about all the ways I have NOT been dealing with it over the past week. You see, when you are in a relationship you get used to always checking in with your significant other. Not in a controlling way, more in a how was your day way. Now that I have no one to check in with, I thought I’d just check in with you, Internet.

ED and I broke up on a Monday night. It still seems so weird to say.

Tuesday I took a half day off work (which was a life saver because I couldn’t stop crying, nor could I concentrate to save my life) and went boating with my parents, Karina the Russian, and our Russian children.

Being at the lake was theraputic for me. I have gone boating every summer since I can remember. There is a bit of magic in the mountain water and for brief moments of time I was able to forget that my life had just been drastically altered. 

Wednesday I made it through an entire day of work, went to class, and went to the 311 concert with Karina the Russian and my sister Staci.

I drove seperately. I said it was because I had to work early the next day – which I did – but it was also because I knew I wouldn’t be able to fake happy all night long, especially since the last time I saw 311 in concert was with ED. 

I called up my friend Sarah on the drive home to talk me off of a ledge.

Thursday I went to dinner and then to the Twilight Concert (a free outdoor concert put on every Thursday during the summer) with some co-workers and Karina the Russian. It got done fairly early and despite my co-worker taunting me that I don’t know how to let go and just have fun, I decided to go home. Only I didn’t. The thought of going home to an empty house was too much so I deviated my course into the arms of my wonderful friend Susan who opened the door with a large glass of wine in hand for me. She let me cry until the wine dried up the tears.

Friday I went back up to the lake with my family for some more water therapy.

Friday night was my cousin’s birthday (Happy Birthday Emmie!). The day before she had text to invite ED and I to come out for her birthday. I had a minor break down at the realization of how many people have known us as a package deal and how many people I am going to have to tell that we broke up. But I digress.

I met Emmie, my sister Staci and a group of Emmie’s friends for a few drinks. Can I just say that I was soooo not ready to be at a popular bar downtown on a Friday night? Within the first ten minutes of arriving I saw three people who I had previously dated. Obviously Salt Lake City is too small of a town. Luckily I had my sister watching over me and survived without being auctioned off at the meat market. I spent that night curled up next to her in bed, again not wanting to be home alone.

Saturday I did laundry and looked for a new place to live (more on that later this week). Then I went to my parents house for a BBQ and to light fireworks. For those of you reading this who are not from Utah, the 24th of July is Pioneer Day. It’s celebrated like a second 4th of July only we are lighting fireworks to celebrate our state being settled by the Mormon pioneers instead of the nations independence.

Saturday night I went home alone, in bed by 10 and completely sober.

Sunday… my day to deal with things. I spent my morning cleaning, writing and reflecting then took a mid-day break for lunch and shopping with Sarah. My evening was spent with vodka and sappy movies.

What? We all cope differently.

From this post I am sure you can see that I have the worlds greatest friends and family. They have been in a constant rotation of checking on me to make sure I have enough alcohol and moral support. I feel so fortunate that they are in my life. I would be a wreck without them.

One week down, forever to go.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I can’t say for certain, because dreams are always a little hazy, but what I remember of this night’s dream was that ED was training me and Sarah at the gym and every time she would turn her head he would try to grab my ass or grope me in some kind of flirty way. I kept telling him to knock that shit off because I didn’t want to get caught or embarass my friend. Finally, after telling him several times to quit it, I got so frustrated that I punched him.

Only I punched him in real life.

Of course it woke him up. Confused he asked, “Babe… did you just punch me in the back?”

Half awake I mumbled, “Sorry… In my dream you deserved it.”

A little while later on this same night, ED started talking in his sleep! Not just inaudible sentences either. He started speaking as if he was perfectly wide awake. It woke me and I half sat up and said, “sweetie, what are you talking about?”

He told me he was showing someone the gym, rolled over and went back to sleep.

That morning, ED had to get up early to train a client. He is a well trained good man and does his best not to disturb me so I can sleep in. As he bent down to kiss me goodbye, I woke up enough to tell him again that I really was sorry for punching him in the back.

He just laughed.

Apparently he is getting used to my brand of crazy. Which is a good thing, because it’s starting to wear off on him too.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Jealousy…

I’m going to start by saying I hate that I am even writing this. I hate that I am even feeling this messed up feeling in the first place. Like, who am I? I have never been the jealous type. Ever.

Seriously.

But for some crazy ass reason–which mind you , I KNOW is not logical, rational, or based on any sort of realistic anything–I. Get. Jealous!

Like, “cut-a-bitch” jealous.

Of course I don’t “cut-a-bitch”. Because I am not a crazy person. Plus I don’t carry knives on me. But when I am working out at the gym where ED trains, and he has his hands guiding some young flirty girls form? I have to start counting backwards from 10… sometimes 20.

I know. I know!

He is a personal trainer… it is his job… he loves me and would never do anything to hurt me. I KNOW!

But does it make me not see red? Does it make me not feel the way I feel?

No.

What it does do,  is help me to keep my cool and let it go. I fully recognize that it is MY issue. It’s not ED’s fault. It’s not his client(s) fault. This one is all on me. Working out at the same gym where ED trains people is a new thing. I think I just need a little time to get used to it is all.

The last thing I want to do is drive away ED’s clients because they are uncomfortable with the crazy chick in the corner giving them the death-stare.

At least, I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing I want…

*sigh*

Jealousy? She’s a major bitch.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

I assure you, this is the standard breakup protocol.

We have been going through the process together for years and nearly have it perfected. Only, this time it’s a little different. I simply don’t have the energy to participate in what just may be the most important step; the last one! It’s not that I don’t enjoy going out and having a drink with the girls, I do, it’s just that I don’t have the energy to go out and party with a vengeance. Not to mention, I don’t think once you are in a stable relationship (which you would like to keep stable) that you should.

But… my girls needed me, so I came up with a compromise we could all live with. I met them at the first (of many) bar for a few drinks, and when they had successfully turned enough heads, crushed a few fragile egos and were ready to move on, I did the same. Only I moved on to the warm awaiting arms of my sweetheart.

As I was getting ready to leave, the girls asked me if I was sure I didn’t want to continue on with them. I told them I loved them with all my heart, but that I was good. My darling cousin M.E. – who was also along for the girls night – looked at me and said, “You know, that’s all you have to say. ‘I’m good.’ Because you are. When I met ED I knew you two were good together. I can’t remember the last time I could honestly say that I am good. But when you are, that’s all you have to say. Go home to your man now while we go try to find some.”

It was the sweetest, most understanding thing a single girl could possibly say to someone in a relationship. It was as if she was saying even though they were each going through their own relationship battles, it was OK for me to be happy.

We (or at least I) spend so much time worrying about loved ones trials and thinking if we are actually happy, it somehow means we don’t care. Or we beat ourselves up for not reaching the ridiculous standards we set for ourselves. Sometimes feeling like we deserve to be happy, is so much harder than it should be. It may sound odd, but having permission to be happy? It’s a totally freeing feeling.

As we start a new week, I hope you will grant yourselves permission to be happy. And if you can’t, then I officially grant it for you. You are wonderful just the way you are. Be happy. You deserve it too.

Blogfully yours,

Summer