Lance never got over his teenage love despite years of trying to forget her with alcohol, music, and other women.

Samantha dated lots of different guys after Lance, guys most girls would love to have even a chance with. No one can make her happy though; she compares them all to Lance.

Fate brings them together when Lance is in town for some family business. They end up spending a passionate night together but can they be more? Can they finally find their happily ever after?

Let me just say up front that I am a total sucker for a happy ending. I can’t help it. I root for the characters to figure it out, then cheer when they do. In I Remember You, Scarlett Metal delivers!

This is the story of Lance and Sam, two young almost-lovers who seemingly miss their chance at happily ever after. Cut to ten years in the future and the two run into each other by chance at a gas station. This time around, they are mature enough to recognize that the connection they share is too special to ignore.

The premise of I Remember You is very simple, the plot isn’t overly complicated, and the story telling is straight forward. The writing is quite good and I was hooked from the start. By the end, I was so invested that I was crying for them.

I Remember You earns five stars from me. Nicely done, Scarlett.

Among the trials and tribulations of living with a significant other is the sharing of the bed. Craig and I had slept in the same bed on many occasions. Turns out many occasions differs greatly from every night. At first it was like having a new puppy. You want to snuggle and be close all night. Before you know it the puppy is taking the whole bed and you are pushed to the very edge of the bed without covers and very awake.

Craig was a covers stealer and a heavy breather. He also had night terrors.

I found myself laying at the corner of the bed, many nights, contemplating the thrashing cover stealing Craig, and how far we had come in such a short time.

After living in Savannah for seven months we flew up to Wisconsin for the holidays. Craig’s mom paid for his plane ticket and I paid for mine. Craig’s parents ended up sending us a lot of money over the years which was always a point of contention between us.

My parents believed in hard knocks and making it on your own. Craig’s mom sent him care packages with socks, underwear and t-shirts every fall until he was thirty. Now she sends them for our son. I never understood why she would send Craig money for bills we needed to be able to cover on our own. Especially since had she not sent the money we would have had to move home, something she wanted badly.

Now that I have a kid I have to admit I get it. I’ll probably do the same thing. Maybe.

We drove my car back to Savannah and I got an awesome job working at a spa downtown. I had been working two jobs seven days a week and barely covering my half of the bills. Craig was stretching himself thin to cover his student loans, car payment and credit cards.

We had been living together for four months before Craig told me how much debt he had. I didn’t talk to him for three days. For years that’s how we fought. A few heated words at a time, maybe one of us yells, then cold wars for days until we could come to a tense truce.I have friends that are awesome at fighting. They yell, scream and throw shit, then make up in the same night.

I’ve yelled, screamed, thrown shit but not often and it’s never resolved anything.

Working down town was a blast and a completely new experience. Savannah is an interesting city that has a small town feel that is spread out into different small town chunks. There is the islands, downtown, midtown and the southside.

I had been working out on the island which is like working in a hicks version of Jamaica. Everyone is laid back, people often show up thirty minutes late for work and a good chunk of your customers and fellow employees are trashed by noon and stay that way for the rest of the day.

Downtown is where Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD) is, but it’s also the hub of old Savannah commerce. Just walking down Bull street you will encounter old and young republicans looking like they stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog, eclectic hipsters, tourists, and homeless people just hanging out or playing music.

This is where I discovered how country I really was. On the show How I Met Your Mother, the character Robin explains how Canada, where she is from, is always a decade behind in fashion. Wisconsin is kind of like that. Hipsters weren’t around yet but retro eclectic hippies were. The art students in Savannah were definitely out shining my style, a blend of hippy chick and fifteen year old boy.

All of Craig’s friends were young professionals who had attended university at Auburn a year or two a head of him. They weren’t misfits or socially awkward. They weren’t anything like our friends back home.

I hadn’t realized most of our shared friends had been equally my friends also. He didn’t mind my dudes and my dudes didn’t mind Craig. He had to fit into my world and now I was trying to be a part of his I hadn’t realized existed.

Usually you meet your other half’s friends early into the relationship and I had partially. His old friends just happened to be my friends also which made it easy. No transition. No awkwardness.

These Savannah friends were the people who had spent the five years prior to our relationship with him. He had never really talked about these friends. Now we were spending every weekend with them and they were nothing like what I was used to. Even more I was seeing a part of Craig I had never seen before. He was a little different around these friends and I didn’t know how to take that. I enjoyed them but I longed for friends I fit in with.

I was so naive and missing my guys. We met a guy that was a friend of a Craig’s friends, who just happened to live in our apartment complex. He reminded me of my dudes. I loved hanging out with him. We’d play video games and watched Jackass. Then when we hung out just the two of us he started disparaging Craig and saying he wasn’t good enough for me. That’s when I started noticing the heated looks he gave me and other obvious signs I had been oblivious to.

This guy was campaigning for the rights to my panties and I felt like an idiot.

That’s when I learned as a female you can be friends with guys you’ve known pre-relationship for the rest of your life. You cannot however really make new male friends as an adult woman. There are a few exceptions to this rule, but not many.

I had one girlfriend out on the island who was a SCAD student and a misfit like me but her graduation was fast approaching. She would be moving back to New York in the summer and I needed someone I could be myself around. Luckily I was working at a spa full of other hippy massage therapist that seemed to be as much if not even more misfit than me.

The availability of food was a new experience also. Grocery stores in Savannah are open twenty four hours a day, and I was finding fifty new fast food restaurants I had never even heard of. I was in fried chicken heaven and gaining weight at the speed of light. My metabolism had turned into a fifty year old chain smoker chilling out on a Barcalounger with a six pack and a large meat lovers pizza.

Going into that second year we lived in Savannah the south won the war against my waist line.

and as I’m paralyzed by fear
“too little, too late” runs in my ear

because ever since you came,
comfort
has changed its definition -
it now means the warmth of your eyes
and your caring embrace
that bring me down to earth

and goodbyes
are no longer merely a stepping stone
to greater things

because I’ve been running all my life
running to stand still
I’d like to stand still with you

I’d like to stop time
(it doesn’t do anything but screw with everybody)
stop the clock from ticking,
stop the sun and the moon from moving from their positions,
stop the fleeting leaves from following their true nature and plummet to the ground

‘home’ had only ever
been a unfamiliar concept
to me
until I found a home in you

home is where the heart is
my heart is with you

I had some stuff to do on the internet, and I got sucked into a facebook hate spiral. Now, I almost never use my laptop anymore. Why would I? I have an iphone. But here I am, with this thing open and I am strolling down memory lane via my timeline. All of the sudden, I see a name I haven’t seen in several years. My ex’s bff. So I click on him to see what he’s up to. I love people who don’t understand the privacy settings. I’m looking through pictures and all of the sudden…there he is. That lanky motherfucker I thought I was going to marry.

I felt nothing.

No punch in the gut. No longing. Not even curiosity, really. Just kind of a, huh…ok. And then I realized his brother had posted the picture, so off I went to internet stalk him. Not disappointed. However, totally annoyed he seems to be into kilts these days. My legit Scotsman looks way better in a kilt than he ever will. But, I digress.

I came across my ex-boyfriend’s name and realized I still had him blocked. So I unblocked him and perused the few pictures he had up. He apparently went to Taliban summer camp at some point because, holy beard. I love a good beard, but he needs to keep his trimmed. Besides that, he looked ok. There was an old picture up there that I am 99% sure I took. It’s like another lifetime. He looks pretty happy. And honestly, that’s great. I don’t wish him any ill will any longer. We were both very young, very stupid, and we both made a lot of dumb decisions. I accept the fact that I did a lot of stupid shit in that relationship.

He was my first true love. He was my first true heartbreak. No matter what, there will always be a tiny spot in my heart for him. No matter how fucking dumb his beard looks, or how much of an asshole he is. Your heart is retarded like that. I still care about his well being, and there are times where I miss him as my friend. Now, I am smart enough to know we will never be friends. I just don’t think we can do it. But I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t make me sad. He was my best friend for a long time. And I will always miss that part of us, but sometimes shit just isn’t meant to be. That’s ok.

I get really pissed off at Manfred sometimes because he doesn’t let me get away with anything. We fight sometimes. We disagree on some pretty important shit. But we are always honest with each other. We talk about shit. And we love each other. Fiercely. It’s different. It’s what I need.

So, while I can look back on the past with some sort of fondness, I also know that no matter what, that wasn’t the right place or person for me. I think I always knew that, but it took a long time for me to accept it. This shit isn’t easy. But, with 31 just around the corner, I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. If nothing else, I’m really happy. And isn’t that all that matters?

About 1 month ago, I was no one. No one noticed me no matter what I did. At least that’s how it felt anyway. I was suffering with depression and even though I was surrounded by people I still felt so alone. I would sit by myself and lunch and in all my classes. Each and everyday was a struggle for me, but not one person gave a crap. I hated my life, and I wanted it to end…
My mum was the only person to actually see what was going on with me. She could see the change in me, and she did not like it, she was worried every second of everyday, so she got me very heavily medicated. I don’t blame her for doing that, because if it was my child feeling what I was feeling, I’d want them to get as much help as they could.

Now, you’ve most likely seem my copious posts about NG, and he how he came into my life and then buggered off again. Well that was all in the period of my depression. When he left, I knew I had not a single person who cared about me in my life (except mum of course) and that made me even more depressed.

So, I went about 3 months, with not a single friend. 3 months sitting by myself. 3 months being completely isolated from the whole entire world. You are probably wondering, what on earth changed all the sudden to make me pretty much back to, well, me?

We had school holidays – 2 weeks of just laying in my bed, feeling sorry for myself. I actually only spent 1 week seriously depressed, I think it might have even been the lowest I ever was. But in the second week, NG came back into the picture. I know how stupid this is sounding ‘Yeah right, some random guy, who broke your heart, walks back into your life and you are a cured girl?’ The funny thing is, that is pretty much what happened. He stayed at my house with me for the whole 2 week of holidays. He brought me chocolate and movies. We would lay in my bed, him holding me close, watching the copious amounts of movies he insisted I much watch. Obviously this didn’t make me that much better, as there was still an enormous part of me that wanted to hit him over the head with a brick. But, the second day he was at my house, he apologised to me. Apologised for leaving me, and then the thing that got me was the fact that he looked me in the eyes and told me he missed me. After that day, everything fell back into place.

I went back to school, feeling a little happier about my life. I thought maybe everything would be okay. And it mostly did, except NG. He didn’t talk to me for the whole entire first week of school. Okay, I know I sound like some crazy stalker girlfriend, but I had put every last bit of happiness into liking him, and he just ignored me for a week. I figured it was over, that one week was all I got to have of happiness.

But then all the sudden on friday afternoon, he texted me saying how sorry he was that he hadn’t talked to me for the week he was just busy with work and whatnot. Again, you are probably thinking, ‘what a load of bullshit’ I know at the time I sure was. But here’s the thing, that night he asked me out. That night I went from being nothing, to being someone’s girlfriend.

Now here is where the social rankings of school comes into my story…

The next day, I got to school and I’m not even exaggerating here, everyone was so incredibly friendly to me. Not one person death stared me, not one person ignored the fact that I even existed. And believe it or not, that same day, I got invited to a party. The next day, I had girls texting me left right and centre asking me for advice, asking me questions about clothes, just talking to me. I was surprised. Actually, surprised does not even cut it. I don’t know what I was. All I know was I was kind of happy again. Happy because all the sudden everything felt like it was back to normal, everything felt like it had fallen into place.

Since that week he asked me out, I have been to different people’s houses each weekend. My phone has been beeping constantly with people talking to me. And everyone includes me at school now. There is no more sitting eating lunch alone.

And you know what, that actually disgusts me. Yes, I am glad I’m feeling alright again. But, I think it is so so so so incredibly wrong that the only way a girl can get noticed is if she starts dating a popular boy. It is so ridiculously stupid that it makes me angry. I’m so frustrated about the whole concept of social rankings in my grade. But I can’t even do a thing about it. I am totally in love with my boyfriend, so there is no way I am going to ditch him in order to try and fix the social rankings, or anything other crazy idea that you may be thinking right now.

I guess that it is all apart of life. But it still sucks.

But hey, if you are a loner like I was, least you know if you go get yourself a good looking, popular boyfriend the chances are you will be popular in a day…

I do my best not to forget. But sometimes, when my woes get the best of me, I do. I forget he has a life, friends, family. I’m jealous of whoever else can make him happy. I’m jealous of the people he’s with when he’s not with me. My selfishness upsets me. I want him to only need me. I’m afraid if he doesn’t need me, he’ll forget too. I don’t want that to happen.

I hope he never tells me to forget. If he does, I’d never want to take another breath of life again. I never want to lose him. I never want it to change. I never want to not feel this way. Because I’m the luckiest person alive. The happiest person alive. I never worry when I’m with him. I’m never afraid. I’m only afraid that this is all a fairytale, a dream that I’ll wake from at 5:30 in the morning to get ready for school. Because it’s all too perfect. It’s too perfect that I get to make him smile and laugh. That I get to hold hands with him in the hallway. That I get to call him mine. That I love him.

And I am so, so lucky, to love him.

“Hold onto your words ’cause talk is cheap; and remember me tonight when you’re asleep.”
- Secondhand Serenade, ‘Fall For You’.

<3

Once upon a time, on a very grungy set, a set in an abandoned industrial building beneath a bridge in downtown Los Angeles (that was coated with decades of filthy, cloying, dust) yours truly was hard at work. It had fallen to me to wrangle the hero prop in a scene that involved plastic crucifixes being fed onto a conveyer belt and sent by a lead actor. The actor was then to pluck said crucifix from the conveyer belt and hide it under his coat. Easy! Well, it was easy for the actor. I, on the other hand, had to crawl under the conveyer belt through an opening in the wall that only I could fit through into a empty, dirty, cavern of a room hauling a crate of crucifixes behind me.

And, there I sat, take after take, listening to the prompts of the first AD and the Director (roll sound, roll camera, speed, clap, action) setting out crucifix after crucifix on the decayed, wheezing, conveyer belt… All the action was going on in the other room. I listened to the voices of the crew as dust motes drifted through shafts of grimy light and wondered how many takes I’d have to share with the beetles and other assorted species. At one point my beloved, on set, in the other room – shouted out, “Vickie! Vickie where are you!” Now, it should have been apparent to everyone on set that the conveyer belt was not miraculously moving, or being set with gleaming crucifixes at regular intervals, on its own. However, the future Mister was inquiring as to my whereabouts…

“I’m right here with the dead rats, the same mummified rats that I have to crawl over every time I load up the conveyer belt (indeterminate sputtering) I’m right here!”

I vowed then and there to make his life miserable. I married him. Mission accomplished.

My topic is young love. 

Didnt think i was going to talk about that did you? well me neither. 
You see as i sat there listening to my friends love life, that i realised, lots of my friends were finding love at such a young age, and when they talked about it, it seemed like…they were actually going to…you know…get a ring, and make it permanent.

Im only 18, and my friend is aswell…but as she sat there talking about her long distance relationship, i realised she talked differently about her relationship than most people did about their boyfriends, others kind of, you know said “oh yea, hes my boyfriend” but as she sat there talking about how they met, and how he literally waited three years for her to come back to their country she had this unbelievable connection to him. A connection that was so unique that you literally had to see it to believe it. 

I know, your reading this like some boring all cliche right? No. Its Not. 
Older generations have been riding us off, saying we just have sex all day, all night everyday, when we can. Uh…No. 

There are some of us, and im pre sure its the majority of us that are waiting patiently waiting for this love, to come into our lives and in that moment, in that connection we’ll know they are the ones. 

Take my friend for instant, she met her boyfriend in her native country three years ago, kissed him once, and didnt see him until this past year. He waited 3 years to see her, and when he did he was so nervous he had to build up courage to. And when they kissed for the first time, she said…”___ trust me, the feeling it came…and i couldnt let go of him…”
four months later, they broke up. 
She cried constantly for four days, and realised that what she did was a mistake, in her words “it felt like i was empty, and when we talk its not the same” they are now together and going so strong, engagment is likely in about 8 months when they see each other again.

Another friend of mine, shes 17 but her boyfriend is 18. Her story is quite the same, they met in highschool, and in remember when we were both 14 we had a massive crush on him, and well lets just say three years later, he admitted he thought he didnt deserve her, but when they finally talked and actually communicated, they were inseperable. 
and have been ever since. 

One last example, my friend met her boyfriend in work, and he had been a big player when he hit the clubs, but when he met my friend, he stopped and they have been commited for 19months. To be honest, i just had them over, and they are just so loving and caring to each other it made me realise, me waiting…its worth while. 
She had found someone who was able to make her smile in her worst moods, make her laugh when she needed it, helped her out with everything, and simply be there for her in everyway possible. 
They are close friends to me and my brother, because the dude was my bro’s friend in highschool and after one introduction she has been one of my closest friends ever since! 

These three examples may not do you justice in thinking that love is really out there, but what i learnt from all three of them is that patience, is key.
Without it, all my friends wouldnt be as happy as they are. 
But its the age thats going to be the toughest thing for you to get past…who cares if they hadnt had a first legal drink yet (australia here its 18 not 21), and who cares that they have been seeing each other less than a year.

When you find that connection, that unique connection with this one person…you can’t deny it. 

age…its just a number.
you can find “the one” when your 13 or you can even find it when you 60. 
but when you do, make sure that each day counts, and that you dont regard the other important things in life, like your family and friends. 
And make sure they understand you, better than you understand yourself, and that you learn each day about each other. 

I know, such a boring topic, and i didnt even do it justice.
but if i did it would be more like a 100 page blog than how ever long this is.
because im just saying, love is love. 
age is age. whats the difference. 
dont throw young love out, because all these couples. 
they all had this connection. this moment. this special thing that makes em bubble inside.
and thats what i want. and im gonna be as patient as they were. 

Faith.Hope.Love x

Sturges and Stanwyck on the set of “The Lady Eve”

Preston Sturges is one of my favorite directors and looking at this picture of him swinging Barbara Stanwyck up into the air I’d probably be safe in assuming he had a strong back. Oh to be young again. I remember when I, the 98 pound sprout, could lift my husband, the 165 pound gorgeous young man about two inches off the floor. I have no idea how that worked. Young love? Adrenaline? Just thinking about it now hurts.

The Mister can still hoist me off the ground and carry me (something I could never do with him) but I would only expect that in the event of an earthquake. Actually, when we did have that earth rumbling event in 1994 (under the Hollywood sign) I woke to the sensation of being on a rocking boat, and the only thing that clued me to reality was the fact that the Mister was shielding me with his body as the bed pitched below us and the windows rattled above, and his voice saying, “I’ve got you, everything’s all right” – that’s what being married in Hollywood is all about.

Everything was normal until he just randomly stopped texting me. I didn’t want to seem clingy so I waited a few days. I was getting scared, had I done something wrong? A notification was brought to my attention. He had gotten back together with his ex. The “Bitch” he could not stand. It wasn’t till that day I felt an emptiness in my stomach, a feeling that made me sick. I had never been so angry, so betrayed. All I got was a simple facebook message saying we should just stay friends. Then nothing happened. A friendship promised was never put into place. All I was left with was a feeling of betrayal and heartbreak.

A year went by where we didn’t talk, he didn’t even acknowledge my existence. I would send him a text once every couple months, but every single time I was left with an empty inbox. Why could I not get over this boy? I was only 13, still too young to even understand what love was.

After another few months of no replies or answers, He sent me a text back. After all this time of being ignored, he wanted to hang out. I was thrilled! This boy hadn’t left my mind once and my feelings were still strong. That weekend we met up at the mall. I watched him walk by me in the bookstore. I knew it was time to confront him, to meet him for the first time. Talk about awkward. I guess after not talking for almost a year, none of us knew what to say. Most of the day was an exchange of awkward smiles and comments about the weather. I guess it wasn’t what he expected because once again, I was ignored for another few months.

I had given up hope. I tried dating other guys but none of them compared. All I could ever think about was him. Seriously, get out of my head. It wasn’t until Christmas I decided to give it one last try before I gave up for good. Being raised well I wished all my friends a happy holiday. I was at the airport the next morning when my phone buzzed. I looked down expecting one last goodbye text from friends and family before I ventured off to Jamaica. It was him. I could have sworn I was dreaming, but what inconvenient timing. Right before I was about to board the plane. We texted for a few minutes and then agreed to catch up when I got back. What a long vacation that turned out to be.

The day I got back we started talking again. It was like we never even talked in the past, a fresh start.  We both agreed we had matured and could put our past behind us. Once again, he wanted to hang out. We decided to meet at the movies to avoid awkward silences like last time.  I was waiting in line to purchase the tickets, when i saw him walk through the front door. He was no longer the scrawny boy I fell for a year back. What I saw now was a tall handsome man with a smile that could light up the room. Everything he said went right over my head because I kept getting lost in his deep blue eyes.  I was brought back to reality as the movie ended. I couldn’t even remember what I just watched. My mind was racing the whole time. The night ended with an awkward hug and a “Text you later.”

A month passed of movies and hanging out at each others houses. There was no longer an awkward vibe in the room and we were getting comfortable with each other. Valentines was creeping around the corner, but I was going to be away on a soccer tournament. That didn’t stop him. I woke up on February 14 with a text asking if I would be his valentine. I had never had a valentine in my life and was super excited. Just the fact I had one made me happy I wasn’t expecting anything. A few days later I arrived back in Calgary. I didn’t waste anytime getting to his house the next day. I missed him so much. When I arrived I wasn’t expecting a rose waiting for me by the door. That wasn’t all, I walked into his room to see a stuffed dog and chocolates waiting for me. My heart melted. This was the guy for me, no question about it.

It was still not official, no title was involved. For all everyone else knew we were “just friends.” I was starting to lose hope that we weren’t ever going to happen. Until one night he came over, he said he had a question to ask me. We were laying in my bed watching a movie, when he asked me to be his girlfriend. Not over text, or facebook, or any other kind of media. It was made official. All those years of waiting and trying had paid off.

Almost two months had gone by. We would hang out and occasionally go to a movie, but it just didn’t feel the same.  Maybe it was the fact he was more into the relationship then I was. After liking him for 2 years I was expecting something different. It just wasn’t fair to him that he was putting in all the effort and I just wasn’t feeling the same. I thought for the good of both of us I should end it.

Talk about messy. I have never in my life met a more dramatic boy. I genuinely cared about him and wanted to remain friends, but apparently he wasn’t done with the relationship. You could not be honest with him unless you wanted him to freak out at you and then make a facebook status about you. So unlike most fairy tales, my story did not have a happy ending. I should really just become a lesbian.

Tough love,

Kirstenbelle

xoxo

I will not send lard through the mail

couch gag: Disembodied eyes hover above the couch and the family pop them back in.

Director: Susie Dietter

Guest voice:
Meryl Streep as Jessica Lovejoy

Synopsis: Jessica Lovejoy is home from boarding school and Bart tries everything he can for her to notice him.

Discussion: Poor Bart, always falling for girls who just aren’t right for him. After the romantic clip show just four episodes ago, Bart is again falling for someone. This time, it’s the Reverend’s hellcat daughter, Jessica. Despite being the Reverend’s daughter, she’s freshly expelled from boarding school, claiming it’s a cry for attention. None of that matters to Bart, because he’s just a boy who’s fallen for a pretty face. Ha!

This is a really good episode. One doesn’t expect Meryl Streep to be a perfect Jessica but she absolutely is. Meryl has a unique intonation that shines as Jessica. It’s a pity we never see more of her.

Saturday Thurs., May 3                           Weather marked as Clear

Dear Diary,

Hal called. He talked too much as usual. He’s a nice guy but he talks & talks & then don’t do nothin’. At lunch Birch was there. He’s sweet. I wore his jacket & he carried my books.

So I completely forgot about these photos and scrolling through my phone reminded me of this feeling.

These roses were sent to one of my co-workers from her husband as a sweet gesture, under no special occasion.  Although everyone was picking on the freshly married couple, I couldn’t help feeling a small tingle of envy. Not of them specifically, but for the gesture which used to be so normal to me everyday this past summer. It reminded me so much of my love, and yet brought a melancholy feeling over me simultaneously. How to explain the empty and hollow sense of a crying knot, or the weight on your lips that prevents a smile from rising on your mouth; there are no words.

As I tried to pass the rest of the night not sneering down at the roses, which obviously had no fault, I had a steaming sense of longing for my love. I missed those small details he never ceased to demonstrate. The little things I love about him. It has only been two weeks since I last saw him, but the ‘missing’ feeling still remains the same as the first day he said he was moving (which was last July). I still have found no motives for his departure, this venture he says was a vacation from Waynesboro. Yet, as I think the reasons over and over, and the longing further grows, all I feel is so much sadness. It’s true I miss him, I long the scent he belongs to, but simply I just miss him.

I miss you mi complemento (AVS).

I think the issue with marriage is multi-dimensional.

First, women feel like they’re a failure if they don’t get married. Or like marriage is a goal. It’s not a goal. But many of my friends have been searching for someone, anyone to marry them. For some, they wanted to be married as soon as their early 20s (or even in high school, I guess). For others, they figured they’d be married by their late 20s, so as the mid to late-twenties creep in, they start to panic. Then, my favorite group of girls are those in their 30s. Clocks are ticking. Emotions are running high. “Why doesn’t anyone want me?!” The whole thing is absurd.

Ladies, you are not a failure if you don’t get married. It just means you haven’t found the right one, yet. You don’t settle for anyone who comes along. Or you’re running off the good guys with the crazy you’re carrying around, only thinking of marriage and children. Relax a little. I promise life’s not that much of an uptick when you’re married. Don’t you have any friends to witness? You do? Why do you think it’s going to be so much better for you?

Beyond that, “rewarding” marriage with this huge wedding that’s “the best day of your life” only exacerbates this issue. Why doesn’t a girl get “her day” unless she gets married? I think this is one of the stupidest popular things in the world. Don’t reward something you don’t want abused. Reward exercisers with an open to post all the time on Facebook? They’ll abuse it. Reward heroin addicts with “the best high you’ll ever feel?” They’ll abuse it. Many girls have dreamed about their wedding day since they were children (I can’t relate, honestly). But when you dream about something that hard and that long, you want to realize it. Stop making it about the wedding. And for Christ’s sake, parents, tell your daughters you’ll throw them a party for just them if they want it (this is assuming you’d finance a wedding anyway). Go all out, wedding style. Give them the same budget, etc. But tell them, “You get one wedding. Whether you get married twice, get married after your single party, etc. this is all we’re paying for.” Takes the pressure off. And maybe will make the wait worth it. Just like finding the right guy.

Second, I think there’s a huge image versus reality issue with marriage (and children). Mind you, this is also exists with things like careers, buying a house, etc. Throughout our childhood we’re overwhelmed with “true love” and “soul mates.” Almost as if it’s easy if you find “the one.” Is any relationship easier/better/more enjoyable if you find the right one? Yes. Obviously. But there’s no magic person that if you find him, marriage is easy. Some things make it easier like finding a good match who agrees on high-level things like beliefs (both what’s right and wrong and religion), how you want to live, money, traveling, etc. Do you have to match up perfectly? No. But if you agree on right and wrong, and approach life the same way, it’s a heck of a lot easier. I’ve met guys who get me, but they like do smoke pot on the side. I don’t have a social problem with pot, but since it’s illegal, it’s not something I’d want in my house (until it’s legalized). Does that make me a prude? Sure, but it’s something I’m not comfortable with. I don’t want to have a record or not be able to keep my job because of some casual habit. Again, I’m NOT judging the use. I simply don’t want it in my house. Therefore, it’s not really a compromise I want to make. The same thing can be said for religion, for those who are very religious. Do you need to have the same core beliefs? Probably if you’re going to raise a family together. It’s not impossible to raise a child Jewish and Catholic, but if you’re both very religious, it will be hard. I mean, look at Andrea and Jesse on 90210. That’s all they fought about until they both cheated. OK, they were also young. And annoying. Anyway, my point is, you need to have a baseline. Now that I’m older and have a financial process that works for me, I know I couldn’t marry someone who believes in credit card debt or financing almost anything except a house and maybe a car. I have absolutely no moral objection to debt, but in general, it stresses me out. I need someone who looks at money, saving, spending and retirement similarly to me. Or we’ll fight. Probably a lot.

But when you’re 18 years old, or even 22 or 26, you look for romance over compatibility, and yes there’s a difference. I had a boyfriend who did everything right on paper. He was so romantic. Grand gestures, small things, sweet things. The best thing that ever happened to me was him dumping me when he realized we weren’t a match. He will be the same “perfect on paper” guy for every girl he dates. And the girl he ends up with will be lucky for that. But he’s smart to have realized he could find someone better than me. And the good thing for me is I also realize how good a boyfriend CAN be. And that it’s not too much to expect of a 30 year old what I got from an 18 year old. So you learn and grow. And I honestly believe someone who really loves and is right for you won’t ever walk away. If he does, he doesn’t love you THAT much.

Beyond that, someone saying, “Marriage is work” doesn’t resonate with a 20 year old, who generally hasn’t “worked” at anything (I know I hadn’t). You don’t realize how hard it is until you live or witness it. I’ve learned a lot from simply getting older and seeing friends who had fun dating grow apart when they share responsibilities. It IS hard. It’s hard to raise kids inside or out of marriage. It’s hard to maintain a house or keep track of money or have a job. So sharing these things with someone else can sometimes magnify issues. When you’re alone, it’s all on you. When you share stuff, sometimes a messy person makes it harder. Or a less present parent. Or someone spending money you don’t want spent. But at the same time, you also have someone to work through issues with, hold the ladder as you climb onto the roof, or help clean up puke at 2AM. So it’s give and take. And having the right match in a person who truly loves and is committed to you is what makes marriage better than being single. But simply being married doesn’t guarantee that. It has to be the right person. And even then, there will be days it’s harder than others.  But try telling that to 20-year old me.

Finally, I don’t think saying, “You don’t understand how REAL commitment or covenant” works. That’s like the argument we keep having about abstinence. We’ve all found it’s hard to make that work. I mean, sure if you meet the right person when you’re young and both are on the same page, and both are mature enough to get married, it can work. Or if you have willpower of steel and can deny yourself basic human pleasures. Is it possible? Yes, everything’s possible. People give up gluten and sugar every day. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. And honestly, when you love someone, it’s hard to say no. Especially when you’re a teenager or in your early twenties when you have so much going on hormonally. Much like I think we should be teaching kids to at least respect themselves, and be safe, and to wait until they’re actually ready (not pressured) and really love someone (don’t just want to get him to stay), I think marriage and relationships should be approached the same way. Can you white knuckle out abstinence? Yes. Can you white knuckle out a marriage? Absolutely. But who wants to? I think waiting for someone you trust and love is the more important thing. I have friends who have gotten married just so they can have sex, which is such a bad decision. And I don’t mean so they could have sex with anyone, but because they wanted to do “the right thing,” but waiting IS hard when you love someone.

And sometimes marriage actually makes people think, “Welp, married now.” like it’s a reason to give up or worse, as if you possess something. But I honestly think this is in the minority. People joke about this, but those first years, they’re always sneaking off to be alone because they want to be because it’s new an exciting. The “work” part is when the “new” becomes the “norm” and it seems silly to have a “date night,” but still totally necessary. As children come into the world, they have to be a high priority, but your marriage still needs to be first. Or at least your spouse shouldn’t feel second to the children, and chores, and work and whatever else.

I’m not expert, I’ve never been married. But I’ve witnessed a lot of marriages run the course. I’ve witnessed people being letdown with reality versus their expectations. I’ve seen people consumed with having children when they can’t, then being overwhelmed or let down when they do. I’ve heard people fight about things they knew existed when they were dating, but either ignored or it didn’t bother them because it wasn’t “forever.” Perspective changes as your reality changes. Expectations change as you live more life with a person. And when your reality doesn’t merge with the image you had of your future, it can be a big letdown. Those who move past this are the ones who realize not realizing your fantasy mate, life and future doesn’t mean you can’t still be happy.

Or that’s when you finally realize you made a mistake.

If I should never call again

I wonder what you would do

Would you ever call me?

Would I mean that much to you?

That we may never speak again

As long as we both shall live

If I should never call again

I wonder if you would give

A thought or two to call me

Since I will not call you

So, now that I have told you this

I wonder what you will do

(RR)

I get it how you are afraid about us but I want to make you believe that we both are ment to be with each other. Don’t you see not just me know but everybody says it. I would really love to spend my life with you cause I know I will make you happy and make you feel so much special that no one might have ever made you feel that way and I am saying this because I am sure 110% how much I love you and how much I feel for you and how much I will make you happy. I know I am not like a prince but I gurenttee you that i will make you live like a princess. You would be my princess as I know how to take care of you, how to make you feel special.
And trust me MJ I don’t normally talk like this but I am gone over you know. I am so much into you. I really get it you know that people flirt with you to get you.They do crazy things for you to get you. But I know I am the craziest here and I know I will make you happy so much that no one has ever did and no one ever can and I know this from my past 6years of being with you and I am so much confident about us and our future as I will be so much wonderful making you feel special cause I have always loved you like forever and this is the area where I think I have got a great deal of talent for caring you.

Friday My Birthday, May 2              Weather marked as Clear

Dear Diary,

Harvey can’t go Sat. nite so I guess (although I don’t want to) I’ll have to go with Bob. I got a telegram for my birthday a letter from Hal & some cards. Mom got me a gorgeous shirt & blouse & Bubie some meterial.

Went bowling. Had loads of fun sending notes to & from Birch (he was our pin boy) in the bowling balles. Hi Talent—we tied Manual Arts.

As my breasts still feel the aggression of your lips, 

As my neck resembles the bruises from the pain of unsaid promises, 

I lay in your aroma, not wanting to give it up. 

My fantasy, my fantasy, not wanting to give up my fantasy. 

But behind closed doors, a storm was all ready brewing. Like a closeted gay Republican, our relationship was mere pomp and circumstance, whose existence was there only to appease the masses. Truth be told, we weren’t right for each other. I liked sports, she liked JC Chasez, we were fooling ourselves if we thought we would ever make it work. There were just too many obstacles, the most prominent being her mother.

It was Super Bowl XXXIV, the Rams were playing the Titans, but I was playing an entirely different game. Allyson Blake and her parents were co-hosting a party in one of those dreadful lopsided get together’s where either the parents are friends or the children are friends, but rarely both. Lucky for me, but much to the dismay of my father who hollered, “Can’t I just watch the damn game in my own house!” this gathering was plumb with passion, for Jessica would be at this soiree.

The Blake’s had just moved from their modest 3 bedroom home to a sprawling mansion located on top of a hill, high above the Los Gatos plebes. Something I’ve always found interesting is that in Northern California there is a direct correlation between a family’s income and the altitude of their home. As if the social ladder were a literal one and after you climbed out of the muck and mire it was your family’s right to behave like complete blowhards.

Although my 13-year-old sensibilities told me these people were living an obnoxiously charmed lifestyle, my morals were not yet refined as I hope they are today. My mother ushered us into Blake manor, where we were immediately banished to the attic for the “kids party”. I had experienced kids parties before, there was usually a smelly kid or three, a smaller television that had below quality sound, and folding chairs with the seat worn out from endless weekends of watching soccer/baseball/football/who-gives-a-shit-blob tournaments. But this, this party, was different. My sister and I entered the attic to find it wholly furnished, complete with a Costco meat and cheese catering dish, an infinite supply of IBC root beer, two separate TV’s and seating areas, and a total lack of adult supervision. I mean this party was BA-BANGIN’.

After my mind comprehended the sheer audaciousness of this function, I gathered myself and reigned in my pupils only to have my jaw distend toward the floor when my eyes befell Lady Nimms. She looked majestic in her Titan powder blue t-shirt, her pig tails matching in equal length, her sparkly lip gloss causing a glare on the television, and of course Mandy Moore’s classic hit Candy playing in the background (and inside my head) on loop.

I was thirteen-years-old and Jessica and I had been seeing each other for a few months, yet even in my old age she still had the ability to make me forget my times tables. But alas, Jessica was a traditional beast, one who preferred to take things slow, which was made apparent when she thwarted my attempts to kiss her on the last song of every school dance that year. What can I say? I’m sorry I wanted K-Ci & JoJo to define our relationship!

We exchanged pleasantries, loaded our plates up with Mortadella and Colby Jack, then retreated to watch the game from opposite ends of the room. We had always promised each other not to be one of those couples who quartered themselves off from the rest of the party, so by that measure we were doing great. I’d say our best quality as a couple was our ability to not talk to each other for lengthy periods of time, we were independent people, not defined whatsoever by our commitment to one another.

Midway through the third quarter, between IBC refills and hilarious comments about how Yancy Thigpen was a REALLY wacky name, I was beginning to miss my boo. All the great couples have the ability to communicate telepathically: Puffy and J-Lo, Ronald and Nancy Reagan, Mark Anthony and J-Lo, and now Jessica and I. For what happened in the next moment can be modestly described as the greatest thing to ever happen to a 7^th grader. I was sitting on the couch when Jessica sauntered over to her man and without a word… took a seat on my lap.

YUP, YOU READ THAT RIGHT. My girlfriend sat on my lap. Oh sweet, sweet victory, the day is mine and all that jazz. So this, this was what it was like to be in an adult relationship. I mean what a bold move! Who was this wonderfully scandalous vixen?! Oh momma, I might as well have been draft eligible, because I was a man.

The next eight and a half minutes of game time (34 of real time) were the happiest of my existence. Our life together flashed before my eyes, her coming home covered in grease and dirt after a long day in the factory, me preparing dinner and living out my fantasy of being a stay at home husband, it was beautiful in the sacred space of my imagination.

But it was all for naught, because as I was open mouth laughing at the Budweiser frogs cracking wise, Mrs. Nimms entered the room to find her daughter in said comprising position. Her face beet red, her breath fiery like a dragon’s from the jalapeno poppers served at the adult party down below, she uttered two words that will reverberate in my body and soul for eternity, “We’re leaving.”

“Jessica my love! Don’t go! Please, I beseech thee!” I cried as she instantly leapt from my clutches and out of my life. But it was no use, she was gone and I was alone once more. And like Mandy Moore and her unabashed desire for adult onset diabetes, I too, began to miss Jessica like candy.

Super Bowl XXXIV went on to be one of the greatest in history when Titan wide-receiver Kevin Dyson was stopped short on the one-yard line. But instead of cheering in admiration of a great contest, I could only empathize with Dyson and his noble journey being stopped right at the precipice of greatness.

RIP Steve McNair.

I was nervous that day. Barely into the second trimester of my second pregnancy, I was already very much showing. I’d like to think I wasn’t as big as I felt, but having a midwife say “are we sure it isn’t twins?” at a 12-week check-up dampens that idea quite a bit. When he left I barely had a bump. Would he think I looked fat? I had already gained about 15 pounds … Would he be disappointed that I didn’t dress up like so many wives had done? I tried … but my wardrobe and my budget were limited. The best I could do was a little sundress that was kind of cute but mostly just  comfortable for what I had been told would be a long wait. I also tried to fix my hair and make-up, but in the Georgia humidity my hair frizzed and my make-up evaporated. The most I could do was wait for him, semi-patiently, as comfortable as you can be when you are big pregnant, exhausted and chasing a two year old, and scared stiff that he wouldn’t think I was pretty anymore.

It’s crazy the ideas your mind will come up with over a deployment’s worth of too much time to think.

So there I sat waiting. Trying to re-arrange my hopeless hair. Settling on a ponytail. Glasses on? Glass off? Smoothing my dress. Lamenting the brand new red kool-aid stain on Aubrey’s brand new not-red outfit. (Would he think I wasn’t taking care of her?)

As husbands began filing in, I searched each face for those familiar brown eyes. Wave after wave of sailors passed me by, and I began to lose heart when I didn’t see him. I watched as the spouses who’d waited with me one-by-one trickled away with their sailors. It was (and to this day is) an agonizing wait.

The funny thing is even when he did arrive, I didn’t see him. I had decided glasses off was cuter and then couldn’t see a damn thing. He was about ten feet from me when one of the few remaining spouses said, “Jodi? Isn’t that him?”

Without my glasses the sea of blue utilities all looked the same. I whipped on my glass in time to see him grinning. He was laughing at me! But not because he thought I was fat (he told me I was beautiful) and not because he didn’t like my dress (he later told me he was so glad to see me he didn’t notice my dress), because he knew in an instant that without my glasses I’d NEVER be able to pick him out of the crowd!

Of course after that there were hugs and kisses, whispered I-missed-you’s, and a very happy toddler yelling “Daddy! Daddy!” over and over. The rest of our homecoming was special, of course, but typical of homecomings. Smelly laundry, a special meal, and a toddler who just won’t go to sleep to give mommy and daddy some alone time … but I will always remember those fears, quite unfounded, and those concerns, so unnecessary, and the grin on his face that told me how silly I was being. He loved the woman who had showed up and waited, including the belly and the ponytail, and he continues to love me no matter how big or small, no matter how I dress, when I show up on Homecoming Day.

I do so love that man.

But I have never again gone without glasses … Geeky-looking or not, he’s not sneaking up on me!!!

>> Lanie

lanielouisephotography@yahoo.com