Tag Archives: Life

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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 Start of Happily Ever After

Saturday was the most perfect New York morning.

I woke up after a night of intriguing dreams, pulled back my curtains, and watched the trees outside my window dance in the wind. I think it’s ironic that the apartment I found in the city gives me a tiny reminder of where I came from with my window facing the “backyards” of the buildings around me.

I crawled out of bed, put on my mini-robe, and checked the slew of social media sites that keep my occupied: Facebook, Twitter, Gmail, and of course this blog. I woke up to find two encouraging Facebook messages, one from an old friend and then another a new one. Of course, that’s a wonderful way to start any day – to know you’re helping other people, and something that’s dear to you is special to someone else. It is one of my favorite things about being a writer.

As an avid gym rat, I got dressed and stretched while listening to my iTunes  – casually dancing along if I so felt inclined. On the way to the gym, I caught up with one of my best friends, N (who tells me if there are errors in this blog, so thank her!) and then ran three miles.

Walking back to my apartment, iced coffee in hand, the chilly Fall air blowing against me – I realized something so sincere and so true and so pure that I could feel it to my core:

I’m happy.

Maybe that sounds ridiculous or like something that every person has, but not me. I’ve been going, going, going my entire life towards something. In high school, I just wanted to turn 16 so I could drive. Once I was 16, I just wanted to graduate from high school and turn 18. Once I got to college, I just wanted to be involved. Once I was involved, I wanted to be in charge. Once I was in charge, I wanted to apply to be in the real-world and get to New York. And then once I got a taste of New York, I just wanted to go back.

But now, I’m here. I have a full life: a career (not a job), a group of new friends (and lots of old), an apartment that’s in the city, and I’m healthy and feel so young. I feel like I’m just beginning, I’m starting to bloom, I’m starting to radiate, I’m starting to realize this beauty inside of myself…and it just feels so good. So, so, so good.

I didn’t think I could reach that easy, peaceful feeling inside of me. I didn’t think I could get to the point where I’m content and satisfied, even without a man. Without even a prospect. And it is not that I’m “happy” about being single, but rather, I’m not defined by that term anymore. Yes, I’m single (minus my wonderful gay hubby) – but that’s not who I am. And I’m not defined by my career either, but by myself.

This happiness doesn’t stem from a great article that was published or from a man who kissed me in the middle of a sushi bar or from losing five pounds. I can’t even put into words where it comes from or how I got here, but it feels so right.

It feels like love.

I think I’m starting to sincerely love myself. I really think I’m in the start of the “honeymoon” stage of falling in love. I find myself blushing as I’m writing this and tears are starting to build up in my eyes because I’m so thankful. I’m so proud. Like any love relationship, it takes time and it takes patience and practice and an understanding, but I finally got to a starting point.

To celebrate, I think I’ll take myself out to brunch tomorrow. Hey, I may even buy some tulips and take a cab instead of the train.

And so the journey…continues. My happily ever after has officially begun.

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And Then, I Surrendered

You would think with yesterday’s post – I would have attempted to be a little more upbeat about my appearance.

Maybe it’s the grime in New York or my hormones are all screwy or I’m PMSing, but for some reason my face keeps breaking out awful. Even worse than it has ever been in the past. I figure, I’m 22 years old, when does this preteen/teen zit-face crap stop? I mean, seriously? I go to an interview or attend a networking event and I have such a lovely red pimple on my cheek? So professional.

Ughhhh.

So of course, I wear makeup. And I’ve gotten really good at picking makeup that doesn’t look cakey, but of course, with a zit, you put more on (even though you’re not supposed to) to cover it up. End result? I feel like I’m unattractive. And thus – my confidence goes down.

I woke up Friday morning with a new sucker on the left side of my cheek. And just by the feel of it and how it is starting to sprout, I know it’s going to be a big one. Years of getting them teaches you how to prepare for them. So, already, just by looking in the mirror when I get up, I feel awful. And then, I get mad at myself for feeling this way when I know I’m trying not to with this journey.

I put on my makeup, go through the motions, and already feel oily and gross –but I put on a cute outfit and just go for it. By lunchtime, I’ve seen myself in the bathroom mirror several times (thank you, Starbucks) – and each time I find a different flaw. I quickly combat my thoughts with positive reinforcements, but it fails to make me feel prettier.

I go out to H&M to buy a new jacket (the cold weather finally got me), where I was bumped into excessively and got further annoyed. After I paid, I made my way to Guy & Gallard for their soup and half-sandwich deal that I love so much. While I was paying, this rather attractive man started chattin’ it up with the very-obnoxious girl in front of me. She had tanning-bed written all over her and she was leaving nothing up to mystery…if you know what I mean. And he was intrigued? I then felt more unattractive and stomped out of the store, nearly spilling my soup in my carry-out bag.

As I walked down the street, I noticed that no man took note of me. That’s a lie – no man I would remotely be interested in took note of me. I started to wonder, why don’t I turn heads? Is it because I wear makeup? Because I’m not hanging out? It is 50-degree weather, why would I bare-it-all? Is it because of this massive oncoming zit? Guys like natural, we all know, but what if you don’t like how you look naturally?

Again, I say: ugghhhh.

I walk up the four flights of stairs up to my office, literally stomping as hard as I can – because I can and no one is around to notice the temper-tantrum I’m throwing for myself. I even half-way punch a wall on the way up (because I can’t really punch) and then get petty with my co-worker J via IM when I sit down to eat.

And then, as I’m yelling at myself, putting myself down – I stopped.

I stopped analyzing and dissecting myself. I stopped looking at the mirror and searching for reasons to pick out flaws. I stopped getting angry because some man didn’t look at me. I stopped making myself believe that I was not worthy of attention because of a zit.

I simply said, “Lindsay, this is you. It isn’t changing. You are beautiful and if you wear makeup, you wear it. Your hair gets blown in the wind, so be it. If you get a pimple, you do. It won’t be forever. If a guy can’t take you or find you attractive when you’re having a rough breakout or it is cold outside, then screw him. You deserve much more than that. So stop it. Go rock out in your heels in the street and accept yourself, your zits, and your insecurities. You got this.”

And just like that, with that boost of momentum, I listened. The negativity slowed down, I touched up my makeup. I breathed. I carried on…

…all the way to the Flat Iron district to a double sushi-date with drinks. And I laughed, I smiled. I gave myself encouragement and I told those me-hating thoughts exactly where they could go.

Yes, ladies (and gentlemen, if you’re reading) – I surrendered.

Guess there is a first time for everything. Onto Step 4? Hmm. Let’s see.