Author Archives: Lindsay Tigar

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Washing the Walls of Relationship Residue

My childhood bedroom is covered, nearly wall-to-wall with memorabilia. I’m notorious for hanging up inspirational quotes, pictures from magazines, old photos, letters from friends, New Yorky items, and all kinds of this-and-that. basically, I like to be surrounded by things that give me hope.

The last time I was home in June, I traced the walls with my eyes, reading and looking at everything that I hung up because I decided it was significant. I thought of all the things that once graced the space and I removed to make room for something more important. From gymnastic ribbons and poetry awards to Central Park postcards and brochures about Columbia –the walls that surrounded me reflected my growing pains and triumphs. Over the years, my tastes changed along with my goals and perspective –but some things I never cleared off the baby blue walls: love quotes.

Literally, they were (and are) everywhere: on index cards along the border of the ceiling, highlighted in black frames sitting on my bookshelf, scribbled on notebook paper and placed next to my bed… the list goes on and on. It seems as if, regardless of when and why I changed, my admiration for love never went away, and I always needed to be encouraged to remember it (or rather he) is still out there.

I haven’t had a ton of love in my life, but I’m under the belief that quality is much more important than quantity. I’m also 22 years old and I don’t think it’s realistic to say I’ve been in love countless times. Of these relationships, some  have been deeply rooted and lengthy, while others that still are significant to me, only lasted a matter of weeks. But of course, to each their own.

Like love quotes, wall hangings, photos of people I haven’t spoken to in years, and broken heels –I don’t let go of old relationships easily. And I hardly, unless forced, throw things or people away. So needless to say, a large part of my addiction to love is really an addiction to the past. Most of my struggle is not only believing there is a tomorrow (or that I’d be okay without ever finding love. Gulp.), but realizing flames that burned out months or years ago did so for a reason.

Before I can move forward in this journey, I realize I need to go back to the very beginning, and discover what parts of my thinking and analyzing past relationships needs to be corrected. In many ways, I need to alleviate myself of any longing, questioning, hoping, or fearing that’s leftover from love.

I really have to wash away relationship residue so I can have a clean slate for whatever is to come.

So, I’ll need to go back and think about Mr. Curls, Mr. Faithful, Mr. Rebound, Mr. Buddy, Mr. Fire, Mr. Fling, and Mr. Idea. There have been a fair share of additional Mr.’s on the roster over time, but these have specifically impacted me and my love addiction. And while all of them will hold a special place in my heart (and some have pieces of my soul), I have to still let go of a few…no matter how hard it may be.

When I think of my childhood room, I think of all of these guys. I think of talking on the phone in middle school with the chord wrapped around me and making love for the first time with my first love. I think of dreaming about going to college and having a friend become more unexpectantly. I think of crying more than I ever thought possible right before leaving for the best summer in New York and the coldness of an up and down relationship. And I think of the intense sting in the core of me after sharing such intimate parts of myself with someone who ultimately didn’t become what I envisioned he would.

Now, that room is in my past. Eventually, it won’t even be my room anymore, but a room in my parent’s house that once harbored all of my belongings. When I go home for Christmas, I’ll strip down the walls and clean it out to make room for a new transformation…and I’ll do the same to my heart.

Lucky for me, when I come back from dismantling my childhood room, I will enter an apartment that holds no memories or reminders of lost love. It’s a place that’s just me and only highlights the long journey I made to make my dreams my reality.

Yet, on a dry-erase board when you first walk into my apartment, there is a simple quote that says, “She packed up her potential and all she had learned, grabbed a cute pair of shoes, and headed out to change a few things.”

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Just Go With It

And so, I decided to be spontaneous. Yesterday was an incredibly stressful and long day -I spent 10 hours at a trade show and then went to the gym (like a crazy person, as my boss said), and then…Mr. Sushi texted.

It started casual and then we realized we were both free, and he asked if I wanted to grab a drink. I agreed, but only after I made sure he was throwing an appetizer in the mix too because I was starving. We met near Columbia and the conversation was effortless, and the food was great (the sangria even better). I found myself having a very nice time…and trying much less.

As I said before, I am the master of the first date. I know what to say, how to say it, what to look for, and where to spot it. But this time, after all my progress, I let my guard down a little. I just let the conversation go and I didn’t try to take control. I listened to what he had to say and he asked me questions in a natural flow. It was easy and it was simple…and I’m not exactly sure what I think, but it was one of the best first dates I’ve been on in a long time.

I’m not picturing a wedding in the Hampton’s or picking out the names of our imaginary children, like I usually do. And that’s good. In fact, that shows me that I’m actually gaining sincere and true confidence in myself. It proves that my carriage is not in front of my horse, but behind where it belongs. Or maybe it shows that I’m not smitten yet -either way, I think it is a positive result.

Mr. Sushi walked me home, kissed me at my doorstep, and apparently, we’re watching his favorite movie on Monday with a bottle of wine and takeout. My guess is that he’s a fan of the kisses and wants more, which for my trying-to-not-be-addicted-to-love self could be a good or a bad thing. We’ll see (and of course I’ll update you).

Step 4 is about going back and figuring out where problems originated and I think it’s a healthy discovery. A few of my ex-boyfriends have been contacting me this week (I think my higher power likes to play with me sometimes), and honestly, it has gotten me a little down. I’ve felt that longing and that intense sadness, and I’ve missed them. But – it is because of my newfound security and (if I may) bravery, that I’ve been able to overcome these thoughts.

Nevertheless, even though Mr. Sushi is a possibility, what’s more important to me is finding self-love. So no, I’m not cold, I’m just focused. I like where I am at in this process and I love the person I’m becoming (or maybe just finding?). With or without any of the past loves or any loves-to-be – I want to know that at the end of the day, the journey, the story – I can always, always, always, depend on myself.

I want to know that if his movie sucks, the wine is awful, and he picks some icky takeout place, that I won’t be disappointed, but instead, like I have been lately -I’ll just laugh and call it another one for the book (you better believe there is a book!). I want to know that I can just go with it.

Just simply, effortlessly, and sincerely – just go.

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Am I Becoming Cold?

A few days ago I was asked out on a date.

While out to dinner at one of my favorite NYC restaurants, my friend, S, and I were hit on by an adjacent table of 10 guys celebrating…who knows what? Saki bombs and sushi rolls were plenty, and so was the level of annoyance. However, there was one guy, who I’ll call Mr. Sushi, who was a little different and stood out from the pack of immature “men.”

Mr. Sushi is nearly 30 (which is fine by me), tall, and has a good career. He just returned from a three-month trek around the world to discover countries, places, and people he has always wanted to see. He lives in the Upper West Side, originally from New Jersey, and we both share a love for this tiny little diner near Columbia (his alma mater).

Once he asked for my number, I told him, “Now, you better wait the allotted three days to use it, ok?” He laughed at my attempt at a joke and promised he’d put my digits to use. As my friend and I stood up to leave, he stood up too, to hug me. As we embraced, his friends started chanting “Kiss her! Kiss her!” A little tipsy from the evening’s spirits, I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what they were talking about, and Mr. Sushi couldn’t either –until we looked at each other and it clicked.

Then, the hole-in-the-wall restaurant caught on and every table joined in saying “Kiss her! Kiss her!” Mr. Sushi leaned down to my ear and said “We have to or we’ll disappoint everyone…and never get to come back here.” I agreed, and there in the middle of everyone, he dipped me and kissed me. Yes, there was a little tongue.

The next morning, I realized how little it bothered me. I told my mom about the exchange, she got excited (mainly because he’s a Taurus) and she asked me about it the following day, when he had yet to text. I thought the kissing-in-the-middle-of-the-restaurant was a cute story, but I wasn’t a nervous nelly because he didn’t contact me.

And once he did, three days later (of course), I was surprised to hear from him (mainly because I kind of forgot). He asked me out the following night, but I already had plans, and unlike the former me, I didn’t break them just to go on a date. I gave him my availability and he worked around my schedule. After the exchange, I left it alone, and it didn’t consume my thoughts.

Progress? I’m not getting my hopes up –which is good (right?). Or was I just not that into him? And is it bad if I don’t get my hopes up period anymore?

I’m praying this process doesn’t take away my lavish optimism and admiration for love. I still want to desire falling in love and having that once-in-a-lifetime romance, but I don’t want it to overpower my thoughts and my confidence. I want to be completely content and in love with myself, but I still want to get excited about possibility with someone else.

Is there a happy medium? Or does being un-addicted to love mean you lose that hopeful whimsical nature? Can I be okay with not being in love or having a relationship and still get those incomparable butterflies-in-your-tummy feeling?

Should I be getting excited about this date or is it bad that it doesn’t faze me at all? Am I becoming cold? Or is it just the weather?

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The Obsession Network

Let’s be honest: Facebook is not good for ex-boyfriends.

In fact, it is probably the worse idea ever created for us love addicts. It has every tool necessary to figure out whatever it is you want to know about someone –regardless if they want you to or not.

Think about how many times in a day you check FB or update your status or go through someone’s pictures or read conversations that have nothing to do with you. Or what about just taking a look at what your ex is up to, because you’re finally at the point where you can? And if you’re not at that point, you “test” yourself by looking at his profile and seeing how it makes you feel to see another gal writing on his wall? Better yet, have you heard of Facebook-drunk-stalking? I’m sure you have. Instead of just avoiding drunk-texting, we now have to avoid drunk-Facebooking. I mean, Facebooking is even a verb now?

I’m as guilty as the next person of having all of these ridiculous habits, and if you are my ex-boyfriend (or someone I remotely was interested in), I admit to knowing or doing the following:

  • What you’re currently doing career or school wise
  • Who you’re dating and who you have dated in the past
  • Any picture you’ve been tagged in or made your profile picture since we broke up
  • Current trends concerning your statuses
  • If I’ve had access with privacy settings, I’ve read wall-to-wall conversations
  • If you’ve invited me to an event, I’ve seriously considered going
  • If you’ve been on Facebook chat while I was on Facebook chat, I’ve wanted to (and maybe have) IMed you
  • If you wrote on my wall (even if it’s just for my birthday), I’ve thought long and hard about what to write back
  • Anything you have posted on your profile as information, including websites, quotes, etc, I’ve stalked
  • I’ve glared at the screen when your current girlfriend wrote something sweet on your wall
  • I’ve felt very angry, nauseous, annoyed, jealous, and just flat-out bitchy when I’ve seen cute pictures of your girlfriend and you
  • I’ve tracked things you’ve done and tried to make conclusions based on pure assumptions (like you became friends with her five minutes ago and then she wrote on your wall about last night…so you met her last night? Or what?)
  • If you’ve become engaged, I’ve been highly, highly angry for a full day. Sometimes more than one
  • If you’re not engaged, but I think you will be, I’ve cringed when looking at your wall
  • I’ve probably deleted you from my feed, but I still go stalk on my own
  • I’ve blocked you and unblocked you (did you guys know about the 48-hour rule?), removed you from friends, and re-added you (thank you ex-boyfriends for playing along)

Yeah, maybe this doesn’t paint me in the brightest light, but if someone is going to give me access to your profile, as a journalist, and as a love addict, it is my duty to completely dissect your profile. While Facebook is coined as The Social Network, is does not create a network of love but rather, an “obsessive network.”

And in an effort to un-obsess my life, my thoughts, and my relationships – I’m attempting to get a little less crazy with Facebook. At least in terms of my former flames. I hate when my confidence or my mood goes from super-high to an all-time low when I see one update or one picture or one wall post that makes me sad.  And I hate it even more that I have to physically and emotionally remind myself to not look at someone’s profile because of the damage it could do. Seriously, Facebook is having all these troubles with privacy issues and I think it is rubbing off on its users.

Yes, I’m “friends” with my ex-boyfriends, but only by Facebook’s definition. And I wouldn’t want someone who I really am not that close to digging around into every corner of my profile (but if they do, they’re probably reading this, go figure) – so maybe I should give my former loves the same respect.

So, with the start of step 4, as I dig back into my obsessive habits and try to correct them, the first task…is taking a big ‘ol step back. No more obsessing over what someone writes on someone’s wall who I kissed three times sophomore year of college. No more analyzing the facial expressions of a couple that came to be right after he broke up with me. No more blocking and re-blocking an ex just to see if anything changes.

This journey is not about what my ex-boyfriends are doing on Facebook. It is not about who they are sleeping with instead of being in love with me. It is not about our past, what we’re doing in our presents, or what will happen in our futures. Because any part of “we” or “our” or “us” doesn’t exist.

What does exist is everything I’ve learned from those relationships, the internal battles I’ve had to fight (and will continue to fight) to let go of love and to finally, with the start of this blog, take a stand for myself. And to know that if I wanted to, I could be Facebook official, in love with, in a relationship with… myself (although I won’t do that because that’s just takin’ it a little too far).

So sorry, Facebook, but I’m only going to give you 75 hits a day, instead of the 150 I’ve been giving you the last five years.

But if so-and-so does get engaged, whoever he may be, no one tell me until like step 11, okay?

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The Yellow Sundress

During the summer of 2008, when I was interning in the city, I made my way over to Union Square to meet a basketball player from Yale for dinner. We had met once and because he was quite adorable, I agreed to go on an official date with him. Because you never know how long it will take to get anywhere on the subway on the weekends, I arrived nearly 30 minutes earlier than I anticipated.

So, I saw down on the steps facing towards downtown and started reading a book I highly recommend, Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos (it is not only about romantic love but loving yourself and others). I was wearing this simple yellow sundress with white kitten heels, and a paisley scarf tied 50’s style around my neck. My hair was in light curls and I had a cardigan by my side. The sun was reflecting off my book onto my face a little and the summer breeze from the city was wondering between the buildings, making its way to me in short and quick bursts.

Completely in a daze from my book, I looked up to see an older man sitting a few steps below me, looking at me, and drawing in his notebook. Thinking he was going to try and get me to buy the picture from him, I said, “Sir, I don’t have any cash to pay you for the drawing.” He shook his head and smiled up at me (a few teeth missing and all) in broken English and said, “No, no, no! You’re just so beautiful. No money. No money. Just let me finish.” I again told him I sincerely had nothing to give him, and he reassured me that he wanted to draw my picture...just because.

A little taken back (but still flattered), I continued reading and let him draw me. After a while, someone stopped, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “Are you some sort of celebrity or something?” I laughed it off and told them most definitely, not and concluded this was one of the most peculiar New York afternoons I had experienced to date. Soon, the Yale guy showed up, and I told him the story (to which he wasn’t that interested in hearing), and he told me we should get dinner. I walked down to the man drawing, where he said, “Not finished, but you must go. Take this, take this.” He handed me a drawing that while it did not resemble me much, was wonderful. I thanked him and wished him good luck in his career as an artist.

I never saw that man or the Yale boy again, but that 45-minute span made a lasting impression on me. As soon as I got back from the date, I started a book called The Yellow Sundress that centers around a man and a woman who cross paths several times over a year before fate brings them together at a park, while she’s wearing a yellow sundress, of course.

With so much going on with my 9-6 magazine job, this blog, and managing an online women’s mag, I had taken a nice long break from writing this book. Also, because it is ultimately a love story, I figured it wouldn’t be good for the progress.

And then, while Tumbling last week, I ran across this picture:

When I saw it, I literally took my hands off the keyboard and covered my mouth. The book had been so far out of my memory for months and to see such a clear representation of it from a total stranger was incredible. And then, as I have been, I checked my feelings and my reaction to the picture. Instead of being sad or jealous or upset that I didn’t have that great love or that I was writing a love story that I’ve yet to experience – I was just happily reminded of something that means so much to me.

Strangely enough, seeing this picture has made me believe how ready I am for Step 4. Seeing couples or seeing romance or seeing love right in my face isn’t upsetting me anymore. I’m sure it will in the future on rough days, but I’ve reached a point of contentment where I’m just hopeful.

And the thing about this journey is I don’t need to hold myself back from loving love. Loving love in every sense, dimension, and style of the word isn’t bad. Believing in the power and the strength that a loving bond can have, or how deeply rooted and sincere and eternal it can be, isn’t wrong either. The only thing that makes loving love harmful is when I put myself down about it, think negatively, or make it a main priority of my life. The key is to not obsess, but to not lose my hope either.

Loving love is part of what makes me, me. Loving love is part of why I’m full of optimism and faith. Loving love is why I’m writing this blog that’s helping me and other women, and a book that’ll maybe make it to the shelves of millions. Loving love will one day be an attractive quality to the man I will spend forever with.

Step 4 is about discovering where the obsession with love comes from. This step will be about going back into old relationships and figuring out what went wrong -not in the union, but with how I dealt with it. It will be about going back inside of me to discover what parts need mending and care. It will mean admitting to some not-so-refreshing facts and emotions. It will help me determine where my love for love became an obsession.

So, for The Yellow Sundress, for me, for that wonderful artist in the park who inspired me, and for all the things (and love) to come – onto the next path in this journey. One month down, how many more to come?