Author Archives: Lindsay Tigar

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What Comes Before Love?

With city temperatures dropping, gloves and scarves coming out of hibernation, and iced coffee being exchanged for hot – I can’t help but think of change.

Fall is my favorite season because of the possibility it brings to the atmosphere, but winter brings this idea of transition. Wardrobe, food, transportation, and mentalities (winter blues, anyone?) makes a complete transformation between the sweltering days to the freezing ones. We’re literally forced to change.

At times, life is like that too. We reach a point where making a change is absolutely necessary: when the job sucks so bad we can’t stand to go to it, when that five pounds has turned into twenty, when drinking has become a must-have instead of a treat.

Recently, I interviewed a couple who own a maternity line for urban moms-to-be for the magazine. With an upcoming reality show debuting at the start of the year and a baby on the way – this duo was on fire. During the interview, it was evident how easily they worked together in and out of the business, and how passionate they were for the pregnant-new-parent industry (if you can call it that?).

Although I asked her a million questions that she gave great responses to – there was one thing she said that really stuck out in my head and caused me to jot down notes for this blog on the train back to my office. As we were discussing reaching her target market, she said: “It works really well that we’re creating a family right now as I’m growing this business. You really can’t even begin to understand what being pregnant is like unless you’re actually going through it, feeling what you’re body is going through, and freaking out.”

In my head, I thought, “That’s true. You also can’t grasp what being a single girl is like unless you are on.” And then, as I listened to her and watched her interact with me and with her husband, it occurred to me that she hasn’t always been this beautiful, successful, married, and glowing with-child woman. At one point, she was a single lady, just like me. It’s just that now, she’s in a different part of her life.

So does that mean being single is a stage? Is it a required transition? If first comes love, then comes marriage, then the baby in the baby carriage, what comes before love? Being single?

I’m not sure I like thinking of my life in stages, but in a way it makes sense. You can’t be a couple or a triple or foursome, if you’re not a single first –mathematically it doesn’t work. Right now I’m a 20-something gal climbing the ladder in her career and exploring the dating jungle that defines NYC. But in three years, I could be married? In ten, I could have a baby and a bump? How does life progress through these stages so quickly?

Are we ever not transitioning from one thing to another? And if we can’t completely depend on the stages in our lives that we hope to happen, will in fact progress, do we have faith? Instead, do we live in the here-and-now? Or do we do a combination of both?

If every stage is just a preparation for the next, are we ever really living in the segment of our lives we’re in? Or are we always anticipating the next step, the next decision, the next move? Once we’ve found that person, we rush to the alter. Once we’re at the alter, we rush to the nursery. Once we’re in the nursery, we rush to the playroom. Once we’re in the playroom, we’re looking at Harvard? Does it ever stop?

And do we lose what we’ve found in the steps before as we keep moving?

Being single gives us a mindset of independence, self–reliability, and confidence. I’m sure marriage gives you new perspectives and babies do even more – but I don’t think we should ever fully transition out of the single-lady values. Being “good on our own” isn’t something that should change when we move into the next step. I don’t think single is so much a stage as it is the foundation for the rest of our lives.

After all, it’s important to be able to depend on our own two feet before we play footsie with hubby or kiss the bottoms of our baby’s toes.

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Clarity in the Breakdown

There is always that moment when you go on a date with someone where you have that feeling in the pit of your stomach that something could come of him. There is something in the way he talks, the way he smiles, the way he presents himself, or the way you feel when you’re around him that makes you think he’s worth a chance.

And when you go out on that limb, throw some of your caution to the wind, and open up your heart – it’s really scary. Once you enter into a relationship, thus putting more of your heart on a line, you never think in the back of your head “this is going to fail” or “we’re not meant to be” or “it’s not going to work out”. No one enters into a relationship thinking it’ll one day end or there would be no point in falling in love in the first place.

Even so, when a relationship does wither and the once vivid love and admiration fades – I’m not sure there comes a point when you think “I really wish he’d meet someone else and think she’s the best thing ever!” If you do, then you’re a much stronger person than I am.

While I’m not to the point where I’m discussing my relationship with Mr. Idea, Wednesday was a huge turning point in my feelings towards him and in this journey. It was the day I figured out he was sincerely moving on. And just like that moment when you know there could be something, there is also that moment where you realize how over it really is.

It was a completely ridiculous, completely painful, completely awful breakdown.

When I fall apart, I don’t do it beautifully. I’m not one of those girls who looks lovely when she cries – nope I look like someone ran over my puppy and then over me about 20 times. My eyes and my face get red and puffy to the point where I can barely open them. I don’t let out little whimpers and hold it in, I flat-out sob. I don’t calm myself down or feel bad about freaking out, I literally let everything just come out.

I was not having such a great day at work and was being easily distracted by my cell phone, by Tumblr, by this blog, by Googling recipes, and anything else right in front of me. I also was getting very impatient waiting to hear from Mr. Unavailable who after experiencing a rough couple of days wasn’t in the best of moods. Being friends with a straight man without the romantic foundation is a new concept for me, and if you throw in the occasional benefit, it makes it a little complicated. So, as I was trying to write an article for our December issue, looking at my not-lighting-up cell phone, and generally geting annoyed, I decided to check Facebook.

And not only did I decide to play on Facebook, but I decided to go under “Privacy Settings” and unblock Mr. Idea. Now, we didn’t end on such bad terms that I have to block him because I dislike him, but that I knew I’d stalk him if I didn’t block myself from seeing his profile – it was more for my protection than anything else. But for some brilliant idea, after I was already upset, I thought looking at Mr. Idea’s profile would be a fantastic choice.

Wrong.

So I looked and I discovered he was in fact seeing someone else. My heart froze, my cheeks flushed, and I could feel the rush of tears heading towards my eyes, and with an hour left of work, I had to run to the bathroom and calm myself down. But not only did I “try” to breathe, I called him two times and texted him, telling him we really needed to talk. I then called my mom, who attempted to talk sense into me while hiding her contempt for Mr. Idea (she’s not his biggest fan). Yet, my heart still feeling like it was mid-run, I decided to text my closest friends, who promptly replied with the words the best of friends always say: “You deserve better!” “What do you need?” “Screw him!” “You’re better off, you know it!”

But to no avail, I was still freaking out. I distracted myself by throwing everything into an article and leaving right when the clock struck 6 p.m. to head to the gym. I tucked away my phone during my run and tried to focus on something, anything, else, but the lump in my throat just kept growing. By 9:30 p.m. when he called and calmly explained the situation, I was a total wreck. I hadn’t cried on the phone with him in a very long time, but I did this time. And after we got off the phone and I sullied another dozen tissues – I told myself to breathe (through my mouth because my nose was useless by this point), and to think.

When I broke up with Mr. Idea, I did it for a reason. There were differences I knew we’d never be able to compromise and that he wasn’t the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I knew that while he’s a wonderful person and I’m great too, together, we just didn’t create the type of relationship that goes the distance. I knew I had fallen so madly in love with the idea of him that I lost sight of who he really is – and that’s no way to build an everlasting love.

So what was I so upset about?

I have moved on and part of the inspiration for this blog comes from the destruction our relationship did to me. I’ve dated other men. I’ve kissed other men. I’ve flirted and flaunted with other men. I’ve felt those butterflies. And he’s “hanging out with, but not exclusively” with some girl I don’t know, and I’m upset? Isn’t that a double standard? I don’t want him, but I don’t want anyone else to have him – how is that fair?

It’s really not, but it happens. And it’s natural and I think it’s healthy. It also shows what impression he’s left on me and how much love we shared. In the midst of my breakdown, I found some clarity: we choose our happiness and our sadness.

Sometimes it’s going to hurt and sometimes it’s not going to be easy. The journey to self-love is not supposed to be without a few bumps in the road. Even though we broke up quite some time ago, I hadn’t thought about the fact that eventually, he’d find someone else. And if he falls in love with someone new, and Mr. Unavailable is in fact unavailable, that leaves me…alone.

And that fear, that notion, that worry, in the pit of my heart, is why this blog was created. Because it’s terrifying to stand out in the middle of the street, the center of the crowd, or just in the privacy of your own apartment…and be a single person. With him moving on, there is no safety net, no cushion, no back-up plan. Even though I was single the day before and the day after – with that realization, I knew I was 100 percent on my own.

The next morning, I woke up without feeling better and with swollen eyes. A part of me hurt and a bigger part of me was scared, but before I went to shower, I turned on the light and I looked at myself. I saw the imperfections and the dark circles. I saw the tiredness and the sadness behind my stare. And I said out loud, “Today, you choose to be happy. You choose to move on and to let go. Today, you choose yourself.”

And so, the rest of the day, when I felt the urge to look again (stupid 48-hour re-blocking rule, FB!), or to cry or to be upset – I told myself to be cheerful. To choose to let go and forgive and forget. To remind myself why I’m writing this blog and what it means to me. To remind myself why we broke up and why I knew someone better is out there for me. To remind myself that in time, all things pass, and that I’m making great strides and changes in my life and my perceptions. To remind myself that before this news, I was doing just fine single.

Sometimes, it takes a breakdown that knocks you to the ground, to realize you can truly stand. And if you choose to, put a smile on your pretty face, and keep walking.

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Ring Around the Rosy, Pocket Full of Bologna

I would be blatantly lying if I said I didn’t want to get married.

Like many women (and men, for that fact), I dream of the day when I get to express my love for Mr. Right in front of everyone who is near and dear to me. I think of my first apartment with my hubby and how together, we’ll dress it up into something worth living in, even if we don’t have a ton of money. And of course, like little girls who long for princes, I cut out a wedding dress picture out of an old Time magazine that I loved…and still have that clipping today.

I really don’t think it is wrong to want to be married or to find your partner or to desire that once-in-a-lifetime love. But what I find scary and a little bit intimidating…is how quickly that “time” in my life is coming up. Sure, I’m single (and learning to love it) – but more likely than not, I’ll probably be married before I’m 30.

In those times when I’m down on myself or feeling ugly or when its super cold and I really want to snuggle up to someone, I wonder “Why are all my friends in serious relationships, engaged, or married?” And then being obsessive and addicted to the internet, I stalk Facebook and scan through wedding picture after engagement picture after kissy-face picture, and become even more depressed.

But recently (even with progress, we have our off days), as I was figuring out how I was going to make it through and to the six weddings I’m invited to next year without feeling like a complete NYC cat lady, questions came bubbling up in my head like the champagne I anticipated drowning myself in:

Are you really ready to get married? Is that really what you want right now? And why is it that you think a marriage will make you feel better about yourself and happy?

Yes, I’m admittedly jealous of those who have found their partners – but I really do have such a privilege to be single in the city I adore, without having to worry about planning a wedding or asking someone else what they think before I make a decision. As I’ve said before, sometimes a date with freedom is better than any date a man could take me on.

So many people and especially my single girlfriends (like me) seem to believe that once you find that incredible person we all long for, that everything else just makes sense. Everything falls into place. Bad thoughts go away, worries subside, and blissful happiness follows wherever you go. This person, in their infinite wonderfulness completes your life.

Well, I’d like to think that I complete myself.

Sure, I want someone to make love to, share similar goals and interests with, and travel with, and I’m sure I’ll have it – but emotionally, shouldn’t I be enough? Does a ring around my finger, or my rosy, and thinking that “I do” solves all problems, give me a pocket full of bologna?

The whole idea of marriage and what it means and who is worthy of it or not has caused so much controversy. Yes, it’s a sacred and precious thing that too many people enter in lightly, but it’s not the end-all-be-all to our lives. There are so many things in this life that are important – our health, our happiness, our careers, our friendships, our adventures, our children, our relationship with ourselves, and while those things may involve a partner, the partner doesn’t make those things worth having or developing.

What does a ring have to do with it all really? Why is it so important? Why are some of my friends so obsessed with getting the ring and getting married, that it’s all they talk about? And why are we so worried about until-death-do-we-part so early in life?

Why do we automatically look on a man’s hand to see if he’s married when we find him attractive? Or when we see a pretty, tad bit older, womanwithout a ring, we wonder why? Is the ring around the finger really a symbol of completion? Or is it just the representation that you’ve found love, but the rest of you is still intact and prospering?

So, really all this worrying and searching and wondering if my “prince” will come along is wasteful.

Maybe everyone has already known this, but it’s something I’m finally realizing. My expectations for marriage, for this lustful union, have been way too unrealistic. Marriage isn’t a pain killer, but a nice upper and stabilizer for when the going gets tough or the good gets better. My wedding won’t start my happily after, but rather, just the first day in a new segment of my life. If I change my last name (which may be difficult for me to do because I love it so much), it doesn’t change who I am, where I’ve come from, or what I learned. Getting married doesn’t make me lose my identity of being an obsessive, worrying freak of nature who happens to be loving, fun, and kind, too – it just adds someone who gets to spend the rest of his life putting up with me (and vice versa).

One day I’ll put on the white dress and I’ll walk towards the man I want to share my life with, and I’m sure it’ll be nothing like I’ve dreamt or expected it to be. It’ll be most likely be even more than any imagination could conjure. But until I meet someone who comes close to fulfilling that part of my life – I’m not going to focus on it. I’m not going to worry or fear or wonder or place pressure. I’ll be happy for my friends and gladly celebrate their romance, without feeling the need to drink excessively (although, I probably will since it’s free!).

Because no matter how old I am, where I am in my life, or who is the person I marry – at the end of the day, I’m still me. I’m still full of flaws and beauty, hope and disappointments, inspiration and sadness. Just as love addiction isn’t going to be the largest part of me, marriage won’t be either. It just serves as an addition to my story and is no where near the final chapter.

I don’t want to get caught up in the ring-around-the-rosy, never ending cycle of wondering if he’s out there or if marriage is meant for me or if I need to be tamed. I don’t want to be part of the spinning web of doubt and envy, before someone tells me to drop all hands and settle down. I don’t want to dance in circles; I want to dance on tables.

I don’t want to be defined by marriage by a ring or by a bouquet of posies; I want to be defined by myself.

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The Unconditional Love: Mr. Faithful

If you’ve ever visited Hayesville, North Carolina: you would be certain of two things: the southern mountains and lakes are among the most beautiful in the world, and small towns cultivate loneliness that’s much wider than the length of the county line.

My sophomore year of high school, when my family picked up and moved to our lake home in Hayesville – you could say I was a little less than stoked. I had grown up seeing the same faces, hearing the same voices, wondering the same familiar roads my entire life, and to be dragged further into the country than I already was, far away from everything I knew (and loved), was incredibly scary.

At first, I had confidence in making friends and finding my place because, as anyone can see, I’m not exactly shy. But after a few weeks of intensely trying and still having no one to eat lunch with…I lost some hope. I turned to the school newspaper and the local one (thank you for my start, CCP!) to vent my thoughts, but I longed for friendship and companionship more than any byline.

And as if the heavens parted, allowing some brilliant light to rescue me, Mr. Faithful walked into my life. Almost literally – I met him as he was walking from math past my biology class where I was waiting to enter. He flashed his pearly whites at me and with a short burst of gumption; I invited him to my family’s barbeque (slipped my phone number in his shirt pocket and all), and he accepted.

After a round of truth or dare required our lips to meet, we were inseparable.

Mr. Faithful became my boyfriend in less than week,  and for the next three years, right up into college, he was my everything. To this day, when I think about lying on a swaying dock underneath the stars with my head on his shoulder –I feel that beautiful love we shared. It was something so simple, so sincere, so sweet – and so perfectly ideal for that time in my life.

During this period, my dad’s illness was progressively getting worse and I can’t even count the hours on the phone I spent crying, worrying, and talking to Mr. Faithful about how much fear I had and pain I was in. He was there to support me, physically or emotionally, to hold my hair while I was sick (yes, he was that nice), and to reassure me in my darkest hours.

I cheered (from the stands) at his football games and helped with homework, he watched my tennis matches and read all of my articles. I baked him cookies and he wrote me love letters. He agreed to watch girly chick flicks and I agreed to go fishing. While I’ll admit I did most of the taking and he did the majority of the giving, the relationship we had was pretty easy and amazing.

Even after my family moved back to my hometown the following year, we stayed together. The long distance presented a long list of challenges and though we broke up a few times, we never strayed too far from one another. To this day, he is the only man who has ever given me a thoughtful Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and birthday. Mr. Faithful always knew what to say, when the say it, and how to make me feel absolutely beautiful. He is my very first love, the first man to see and explore every part of me, and someone I will never, ever forget or stop caring about.

It was my own insecurities and curiosity that robbed our relationship of its innocence. I was only 15 when we started dating and while he always had such security in us, I always had my reservations. There were things about him that I didn’t know I could live with my rest of my life – and I surely didn’t want him to be the only guy I passionately made out with. And that thinking led me straight out of the relationship with Mr. Faithful and into the arms of Mr. Rebound.

For better or for worse, our relationship ended…and not well. Once I realized my mistake in breaking up with him the start of my freshman year of college, it was too late. I pushed him to a point he couldn’t return from, betrayed his trust, and his image of me and everything we had, was ruined. After many awful fights and tear-fests, we stopped all communication. After about a year, we met up again, tried the whole dating thing and quickly realized it wasn’t going to work. But at that point, I think we had both finally had enough and were at peace with what we shared.

Regardless of our story, who did what or why it ended – Mr. Faithful taught me so much about life and even more about love. When we were together initially as each other’s high school sweethearts, his love for me was unconditional. He forgave me for any harsh word, poor action, or cruel mention. He was always there for me and I never doubted his sincerity or feelings for me. Of all the men I’ve ever dated, I’ve trusted him the most. Maybe that’s because I had never been sincerely in love or had my heart truly broken until him, so there was no scar to keep me from believing.

The hopeful romantic in me wants to think we will always be connected in some “First Love” magical way, and the realist in me thinks everyone has that initial taste and introduction to love, so really, it’s nothing special. Nevertheless, certain songs, particular places, the sight of elves at Christmas, long car rides, and Donald Duck will forever remind me of him – and those thoughts are not painful ones, but peaceful memories of the love I once felt.

Mr. Faithful is an important part of my journey and my life because he made me believe in the power of love. And not just romantically. He didn’t have an easy upbringing (although his mom was always supportive) or a ton of money – but he strived for something higher and he always sought to give me the best with what he had. He hardly complained and rather, only worked towards what he wanted with diligence. Currently, he’s finishing up his last year in college before going to graduate school and eventually medical school. Last I heard, his lovely girlfriend, A and him are planning on going to school together, and they seem very happy together. (She’s even complimented this blog, so thank you, A!)

I was always amazed at his ability to forgive and forget, to keep going when the going was absolutely terrible, and above all other things, remember to love me to the highest of his ability. Now, if I ever question something or if I wonder if true love is actually out there, and if I’m meant to have it, I think of Mr. Faithful’s dedication to me (hence the name) and to the whole idea behind love in the first place. He now serves as a reminder to me that out-of-this-world love not only exists, but endures, too. And of course, just as he was with me, it is also patient and kind, it does not envy, it does not boast…

…and above all, it believes.

Our relationship worked because we respected and encouraged each other. I was constantly telling him he could do anything he wanted and the world was an endless adventure for him to explore, and he reassured me that everything, with my dad, with my career, with New York, with college…would be okay and I shouldn’t worry. In addition to all of the memories of him, something he gave me still sits prominently on my dresser in my New York City apartment.

Towards the end of our relationship, we were walking through the mall in my hometown, and of course, I dragged him to Halmark because I was (and still am) addicted to it.

Secretly, he managed to buy a plaque for me as an early high school graduation gift and gave it to me outside the store:

“She believed she could, so she did.”

That saying has stayed with me the last five years I’ve had it, and it’s always traveled with me. From every dorm room and college apartment, to summer vacations and New York city lofts…to where it sits now, right at my doorway, so I see it every time I leave and every time I come home. It doesn’t always remind me of Mr. Faithful, but it gives me a certain strength and surge into my already fiery ambition.

So, to you, Mr. Faithful – thank you. For always being available, for loving me, for sharing so much of yourself with me and allowing me to do the same, and for continuing to be a shining example of unconditional love. I wish you nothing but the very best of love, of life, of success, and of happiness. I can’t wait to see Dr. in front of your name one day!

Always, Elf.

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Distracted by Distractions

Almost every day of the week, I go for a run.

It is my time of the day to relax, to center, and to just be completely alone. Sure, there are always women running near me, but they don’t matter: I zone out everything else and focus on escaping. I haven’t always been a runner and I choose not to do marathons (I’ll do a 5K if begged) because I don’t want to ruin the pleasure and serenity of my only quiet time in one of the busiest cities in the world.

Most of the time, my runs are relatively easy and I lose track of time as I’m releasing stress, pounds, and that stop at Papaya Dog the other night (Damn you hot dog and french fries!). Other times, I catch myself gasping for breath, counting down the seconds until I reach a certain mileage, and overall just miserable.

It’s when I’m about ready to push the “Quick Stop” button that I mentally take a step back. I turn off my iPod, I flip my cell phone over, and I start listening to my breath. I count to five as I inhale, and then ten as I exhale. I feel my chest rising up and down and just like that – I find my stride and I’m ready to take on a few more miles with that runner’s high you don’t think is possible until you experience it.

By concentrating on my breathing and allowing my focus to turn inward instead of getting caught up in music and possible text messages – I eliminate every interruption.

But in life –interuptions are plenty, especially when you’re trying to learn to find peace in your singleness. They come in the form of handsome strangers who shower us with compliments or friends who we wish would be more. Sometimes, they are in quick goodnight kisses that may turn to second-thoughts in the morning. And always, these attention-stealers are only momentary. They give us our short fix for a slight period of time before we’re left alone and back to battling our fears and our love obsession.

Even knowing this -is it ever possible to cut out every distraction that keeps us from focusing on what’s most important? And in this journey, do I need to rid myself of any current potential disruptions so I can sincerely, full-heartedly put my energy, my breath, and my spirit into finding this confidence?

At the gym yesterday, as I was constantly checking my phone, and racking my brain to say what to a certain someone who has made his way into my heart and into my life – I realized he was not only disrupting my run, but my process. I’ve known him almost as long as this blog has been active and in that period, I’ve had him to depend on to reassure me, give me attention, and keep me satisfied with the instant gratification I’ve missed.

So by having him in my life, am I running away from problems and being led by distractions, or sincerely stepping up to the plate to face them?

Having this guy who is at an arm’s reach and yet completely unavailable emotionally is a huge issue – and one I need to admit. He has been nothing but brutally honest with me and I’m thankful that if I did decide to get mixed up with a man, it’s a sincere one – but, yet, I’ve allowed my mood to be dictated by him.

Is this taking a step back? Possibly. But in the past, I never realized my actions and corrected them, so to me, it’s still progress. Yes, I’ve checked my phone. Yes, I’ve done things and acted in ways that are out of my character and moral boundaries. Yes, I’ve wished and hoped that something in our “platonic” friendship would morph into other feelings.

But in my heart of hearts, in the deepest corners of my soul, in the back of my mind that I try to avoid, and in my breath that is catching up with me – I know I need to start focusing on me. On my journey. On my progress. On the me I sincerely want to become – a me that doesn’t freak out and isn’t obsessive and is okay in her single shoes, no matter how long she walks in them.

So do I cut him out? Do I stop going on dates? Do I stop the flirting? Do I write him off in my long list of almost-but-never-really-boyfriends?

Nah.

I just stop giving him attention. I stop allowing him to be the center of my thoughts at times. I stop letting myself get caught up in something that’s not meant to be. I stop the confusion before it becomes painful. I slow down. I put away my phone. I smile at myself in the mirror. Tell myself what I have to offer without needing him to reaffirm it. Give myself a break. Forgive myself. I move forward with confidence and with gentleness. I relax and let myself step back from my actions and revaluate.

And most importantly, I breathe.

PS:  And if you need a distraction from today’s school or work load, go vote for one of my best friends. She deserves to win! Click here to vote for her.