Tag Archives: He 2010

Moving Forward

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This weekend I …

I deleted all the cute text messages that I’d saved over the last six months.

I deleted the pictures from him on my phone.

I tucked all his emails away into a folder out of sight. (What can I say? I’m a saver and our emailing days were some of my favorite. I can’t part with those.)

I had lunch in the park with Frit, where I was allowed to say any irrational thing I thought or felt without any judgment or advice being given back. It was sunny. We ate cherries.

I consumed an entire bag of BBQ potato chips while watching 500 Days of Summer, as well as a Krispy Kreme doughnut and an Arby’s Jamocha shake later that night. (Thank you Frit for knowing exactly which comfort foods I always need and for bringing them to me exactly when I need them.)

I washed the sheets and remade the bed in the spare room.

I showered and put some make-up on.

I made a list of all the things I really liked about him so that I can make sure to look for them in the next “someone.”

I made a list of all the things that were absent between us so that I can make sure they exist in the next “something.”

I made a list of all the things I learned from him and this experience.

I outlined a plan for some things I need to improve on.

I prayed for help in my pursuit of set ups. (Speaking of, if you have someone in mind … email me.)

I prayed for him, that he’ll be happy and successful.

I took some deep breaths. Because sometimes I forget to breathe.

I’m mustering the courage to take some risks in the near future.

I’m stepping out.

And I’m moving forward.

Here we go!

p.s. moving forward is a lot easier and way more fun if you’re wearing a pair of yellow peep-toe wedge heels with ruffles.

Alone Again

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The relief I felt yesterday when he pulled away was short lived. Actually, it comes and goes. We did the right thing and I know that. But reality set in too. I’m alone again. And with that realization, my thoughts bounce around like a pinball.

I miss him.

We haven’t talked in 24 hours.

This is the first day in six months that we haven’t talked.

The first day after 174 days of talking daily in some form or another.

It’s really hard to just turn off the notion that we’re “supposed” to talk today.

Especially when he was such an good and happy part of my life.

My daily life.

I don’t know what shift he’s working today.

I don’t know how the drive home was yesterday.

I don’t even know if he made it home.

I don’t know what he had for dinner.

I don’t know what he did with the rest of his day.

I don’t know how his mom’s garden is.

Those are all things I used to know.

And I know the “missing him” is partly him and who he is, but mostly it’s me just missing “someone.”

Having “someone” again was nice.

For so long I shut down all those feelings.

It’s just easier to not think about it.

And that’s what I’ve done for the last 5 years.

I haven’t dated.

At all.

I haven’t even been interested in anyone.

Not one person.

For five years.

But I also haven’t cried over anyone.

And I cried a lot yesterday.

I haven’t been confused about my feelings for anyone.

I haven’t been rejected.

I haven’t wondered where I stood.

I haven’t been left waiting by the phone.

But I also haven’t felt butterflies.

And I love the butterflies.

I haven’t been giddy over getting ready for someone.

And I love getting ready for a date.

I haven’t felt that “take-my-breath-away-heart-leap-instant-smile-on-my-face” feeling when his name appears on my phone.

I love that feeling.

Frit always joked that she knew when I was reading a text from him because of the way my face looked–all smiley and gooey.

I haven’t felt that total and complete “happy-calm” when you’re lying next to someone, all snuggled in with your head on his chest.

That is the best feeling in the world.

And now I have to start all over.

Because I let myself open up all those feelings that I put away.

And now that they’re out again, they want to stay out.

At least the happy, girly feelings do.

It’s like Pandora’s box.

Well kind of.

In theory it’s like Pandora’s box.

Anyway.

Ugh.

Starting over.

Seriously?

It’s worth it.

It’s worth it.

It’s worth it.

It has to be.

It better be.

I know it is.

I know it is.

Sheesh.

I know it is.

Why couldn’t it have just worked?

Me and him.

I hate this part of the process.

I really hate it.

The End

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I didn’t expect to feel the relief I felt when I shut the door behind him. I’ve known for a little while now that this wasn’t what I wanted. Wasn’t what I needed. And ultimately wasn’t for me. But I held on. Because letting go is scary. Because I thought–hoped–it could maybe, possibly become what it needed to be if we just gave it time. Because I liked him. I really did. Because it was so good in the beginning. Because it was “something” after a long while of nothing.

But something isn’t better than nothing–even though I’ve been trying to talk myself into believing that for a couple weeks now–especially when it’s not right.

He was here less than 24 hours this time. He was kind. He always is. And we laughed. And we had fun together. But in the end it just wasn’t what it needed to be. For either of us. And so he left this morning. After an hour of cuddling, a few tears, and a hug.

And that’s the end of this chapter in my life.

B: Thank you. Thank you for the time we had together. Thank you for your kindness. You’re a good man and I’ll always think of these six months with total contentment and no regret. Our late night phone calls were the highlight of my New Year. Meeting you was a blessing. Dating you was a gift. And I want you to know. It’s okay. I’m okay. xo, me

An Evening Walk

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It was a balmy night, the kind of night you want to drink in gulps but can’t seem to swallow fast enough. The sun was just setting behind a plateau of red rocks, sending an offering of burnt yellow rays heavenward. A warm breeze flirted with the hem of my skirt and tugged at my hair lifting single strands like kites in a summer sky. The scent of late Spring blossoms danced along, teasing my taste buds with their sweetness. Quite simply, the air–dry and delicious–was alive. And so was I.

My senses intoxicated, I wanted to slow the seconds–to have time enough to breathe it all in and wrap it up with a beautiful bow for later opening and reopening.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” I asked. “Mm hmm,” he answered.

We started South and the yellow light soon bent beneath the deep pink clouds which then gave way to an indigo dusk. Quietly, he slid his hand into mine, lacing his fingers in that way that he does and said … “Tell me something. Something about you.”

I thought for a minute. Where do you begin when there’s no limit to the answers? Memories and images flowed with the smallest of details and timidly, I began.

He listened as I talked, asked questions when he wanted to know more, laughed at the funny parts, and rubbed his thumb back and forth over my hand when I cried because of how deeply I felt about what I was telling him. It was easy, this conversation. Easy to tell him things. Easy to be myself. Easy to walk beside him.

It was his turn next. To “tell me something.” We zig-zagged back and forth, up and down different blocks, talking and not talking, laughing, listening, hand in hand, stopping to smell every flower within reach, saying hello to the neighbors, watching the moon rise, large and full, pregnant with soft light on the horizon.

And only when the sky grew black with night did we turn to make our way back home. One star hung low and bright in the western sky. Crickets chirped from the gardens by the sidewalk. I looked at our shadows stretched out long in front of us and all I could think was, how much more content could I possibly be?

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He

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… just left after a whirlwind 30-hour marathon date.

… was a little shorter than I envisioned, but still tall enough that I could (thankfully!) wear my pink wedge heels and not be taller than him.

… later said that the first few minutes were a little awkward. (He was right.)

… let me win the go-cart race, but kicked my trash at air-hockey.

… opened my doors (all of them) for me everywhere, every time. (Love that.)

… was oh-so-kind and careful and tender with me.

… said he “was really glad” about the results from the hairstyle vote. (Straight won for Day 1 & messy curly for Day 2.)

… drove me to the top of the mountain to watch the sunset over the lake.

… acknowledged and appreciated the time I took to get ready for him.

… noticed that I’d painted my nails for the occasion.

… let me taste some of his food at lunch. (I come from a family food sharers yo.)

… obeyed all traffic laws. (You SO could have made it through those 3 yellow lights before they turned red!)

… said he was surprised at how much I made him laugh. (Dude, I told you I was funny didn’t I?)

… also said he was surprised at how easy & normal it was to be together. (Agreed.)

… brought me a little present from the trip he took between the semester’s end and meeting me. (Thanks for thinking of me.)

… didn’t get offended when I fell asleep with my head in his lap during a conversation and didn’t get totally grossed out when I snored or drooled on his arm whilst sleeping. (Yes. You read that correctly and I can’t believe I’m actually writing that out loud. Can anyone say “mortified”!? I never snore. Ever. And I know everyone says that, but when I told Frit about it tonight, she was like, “I heard you snoring last night! You’ve got to be really tired or something, cuz you never snore!” And then she fell into a fit of uproarious-tear-inducing-laughter that I’d snored and drooled for 20 minutes while he watched me sleep. And then we were both laughing, and crying, and doubled over with side aches from the laughter. Cuz it is pretty funny. Alright, it’s actually really funny. But it’s kinda cute that he just watched me right?)

… took me to the aquarium.

… sat beside me while I finished some “have-to-do-now” work this morning before we could play.

… sat close to me on the couch when we watched a movie, cuz after a long, fun day we just wanted to stay in.

… would smile at me for no reason and say things like, “this is a really great day.”

… held my hand.

… asked if I wanted to come visit him in St. George next week.

I said yes.

First Date Hair: Please Cast Your Vote

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Um…I’m getting jittery and excited. The countdown that began five months ago is now down to t-minus 24 hours.

And I know it’s just a first date. I know that there is the possibility it will result in nothing. And I realize that talking about it here is a little premature. Because even though it’s “something”, it’s still not “anything.” But that’s what we do here right? We talk about things. Everything. Even the “things” that aren’t “things.” (huh?)

Because the reality is that I haven’t been excited about dating in a long time. I haven’t been excited about anyone (in a dating sense) in a long time. And so, no matter what happens tomorrow, the fact that I’m excited (and nervous) is cause for celebration. The fact that I’m trying again is reason for a party.

And you’re all invited! To cast your vote for tomorrow’s 1st date hair. Here are the options:

a) Straight

b) Smooth Curly

(Please pay no mind to the horrible lighting. And please forgive me for that face. I don’t know what came over me.)

c) Messy Curly

Frit’s leaning curly.

I’m leaning straight.

But we’re not firm in those choices at all.

So, please weigh in. EVERYone! Thanks for your help!

xoxo

The eHarmony low-down, 411, dealio, scoop, or whatever you want to call it

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So here’s how it works. You give them your email and your name and your height and your location and your gender and then you take this really really long test. You answer questions about your talents and your decision making ability (or lack thereof). You answer questions about how you deal, or don’t deal, with conflict. You answer questions about your life and your views and your ideals and your hopes. It takes forever. But then again, I was always the one who flipped straight to the quizzes in Teen magazine to find out, scientifically of course, what shade of lip gloss my personality is (frosted coconut), which kissing style I am (soft and sweet with a side of sass), which Saved By the Bell character I’m most like (Jessie, always Jessie. Ugh. After that, I began “cheating” so I could be Kelly.), and how to tell if “he” really likes me (And he never did. I was always the “friend.”), so I actually thought the eHarmony inquisition was pretty fun.

After you finish the test, which is supposed to “read” your personality and ultimately match you up (scientifically of course) with others of a “compatible” personality, you fill out your profile. Here you post your pictures and answer questions about what you’re most passionate about, what your best life skills are, the five things you can’t live without, the last book you read, who you admire or look up to, and basically try to present yourself to your matches so that they can get to know a little bit about you and decide if you’re someone they want to communicate with.

If they don’t–they “close” you. And honestly, the first few times I was “closed” it almost broke my heart. I felt like I was being broken up with for no reason. I mean, what was it about my profile that they saw and automatically didn’t like? I’m a likable girl right? I’m smart and successful and interesting, right? And I know I’m not the most gorgeous girl on the planet, but I’ve got some attractive features, right? Anyways. It stung a little the first few times. But then I had to close some of the matches I received myself and I didn’t feel so bad about it after that. :)

My goal in signing up for eHarmony was never marriage. If that came as a result … sweet. But no, my only purpose was to date. Just date. Anyone and everyone I could. It’s been a while for me so I figured what the heck. Why not hop online for a spell? What’s the worst that could happen?

Over the course of the two months I was on, I was probably delivered about 400 matches. At first I was hesitant to initiate communication. I’m old-school like that. I want the guy to step up and decide he wants to talk to me. But one day Frit was browsing my matches with me and told me to just do it. “If you’re going to pay as much as you’re paying for this, you better get the most out of it,” were her exact words. And so I did. I began sending communication requests to any guy that remotely seemed like a good fit and even to some that didn’t. I tried, not to lower my standards, but to give guys that I wouldn’t normally have thought I might be interested in a chance. Of the 400 matches I probably initiated communication with nearly 75 guys. I personally closed, or was closed by about 300. And then there were probably 25 or 30 who initiated communication with me.

Of those 100 or so matches I communicated with, all of them fizzled out either during the “guided communication” that eHarmony sets up (series of multiple choices questions, lists of must-haves & can’t stands, and short answer questions) or once we began emailing. I never went on one date. But lest you think all is lost. It is not.

My eHarmony experience got me in the “dating mindset” again. It taught me that there are good guys still out there (In fact I might still be talking with one of them. And by might, I mean I am.). And it certainly reminded me how hard it is to click with someone. I mean seriously, it is an honest-to-goodness miracle when two people meet, click, begin dating, become serious, get past all the “stuff” they each bring to the relationship, and actually get married. A miracle. But like I said. I’m thinking about dating again … after a really long hiatus. So despite my nervousness about doing the “online thing” … I’m really grateful I did it.

And there you have it. For all your inquiring minds. I really do love y’all and I so appreciate your care and concern over this matter in my life. You’ve supported me through everything that’s changed in my life lately, and since a lot of you have asked how it’s been going, I wanted to share a bit.

xo

Krista

A Step in the Right Direction? I don’t know. The jury’s still out.

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So I did it. I paid for eHarmony.

It was impulsive and reckless–which is how I think most normal people sign up for these sites. It’s late at night. You’ve just finished watching a Jane Austen movie and in a fit of longing for a man (preferably with an English accent) to sweep you off your feet and fall madly in love with you, you find yourself actually thinking, “This might be a good idea. I mean where else am I going to meet someone?”

I’m not saying that’s what happened to me. I’m just saying…I imagine that’s how it might could possibly happen for someone else. Or something along those lines. Maybe.

So it’s been three days and can I just say…it’s miserable. Every anxiety, fear, and insecurity has come bubbling to the surface as though I was a 10th grader facing the lunchroom wondering what table is acceptable for me to sit at.

I can’t believe I actually paid money for this.

*as a reminder: don’t leave any stupid comments about dating, being single at 30, how you understand, how you got married later (at the ripe old age of 26) and that it will all work out, how God has someone wonderful waiting, how God needs me for something special in the meantime, etc. “Stupid” being the operative word here. And if we meet in person, no. I don’t want to talk about this.