January 3, 2011 by Lindsay Tigar - 34 Comments

Mr. Possibility Explores Other Possibilities

My grandmother is this petite woman who has never lived outside of the South and spends most of her time watching soap operas, doing crossword puzzles, sending me cute cards asking me when I’m going to have babies, and holding hands with her adorable boyfriend, EC. She is the only grandparent that I’m close to and while she hasn’t given me much advice, once I graduated from high school to go to college, she whispered one thing in my ear in her sweet Southern accent:

“You protect your possibilities, now. Don’t let just anyone around them, ya hear?”

Possibilities are what Fergie calls “lovely lady parts” and I can’t decide if I’d rather call mine a va-jay-jay or something else. Regardless, even though she always encouraged me to wait until marriage to “park” with a boy, I think her slightly growing new-age mindset, knows otherwise.

Even though I would never tell her, I think she’d be happy with how I’ve protected my possibilities since I lost the coveted v-card with Mr. Faithful many, many moons ago. Though sometimes I wish I could be more carefree and random about sex, I know myself too well and know that if doing-the-deed is interjected into a relationship or could-be relationship, I’m going to get emotionally intertwined with the dude. Just the way the ball rolls for me (pun intended).

So maybe it comes as no surprise, that when I broke a pact Mr. Possibility and I had agreed upon (we wouldn’t tell each other if we were sleeping with or dating other people, unless we started having feelings for the person), and asked him if he had slept with anyone in the time he’s been overseas for business – and he said “Yes” – a little piece of me freaked completely out.

Now, we’ve been clear with each other from the get-go that we weren’t exclusive, that we were taking it slow, that we were going to be incredibly honest with each other, that what we were doing -whatever it is – was going to be different from the mistakes we’ve made in the past. And if I go off of technicalities, he didn’t cheat, he didn’t do anything wrong by the Rules of Dating – but emotionally speaking, he completely hurt my feelings. Maybe even more so, my trust – not so much in him (because did he really break something he promised to me? No.), but in what we are creating.

While I have the same liberties that Mr. Possibility has, I haven’t felt the need to explore outside of him since we started moving our platonic friendship into more of a romantic realm. This may be due to my own way of handling “talking” situations with a person that’s derived from an innocence I still have towards relationships, or maybe it is my own idealistic qualities that may need to be overturned. But to me, when you start to have feelings for someone, feelings that are real and true, you aren’t exactly interested in experiencing other possibilities. At least until you determine if the option in front of you is suitable or not.

Who knows, maybe this is part of an “adult relationship” and maybe I should have never asked when we made an agreement not to. Nevertheless, I did and after the news, I had some soul searching to do – not only about my feelings towards him, but my personal beefs, too.

At first, I paraded him with questions and accusations, before I realized that the more I knew, the more I’d obsess. And then, I started doubting all we had shared in the past three months – the exchanges, the dates, the glances, the connections, the moments, the weekends tucked away in my hole-in-the-wall apartment, the dinners, the romance, the intrigue…the everything. We spent hours on Gchat, text messaging, emailing, and even had a two-hour phone conversation that I’m sure cost his company a pretty penny, going over what happened, what to do next, and he, of course, apologized. And yet my mind still raced with questions that ranged from “Oh my god, was he sleeping with someone else in New York?” and “Have I been a complete fool in this whole thing, I mean, did I really introduce him to my blog as a possibility when he’s not?” to “Does he like this girl who he slept with?” and “Why was I not good enough to hold his interest?”

And as I sat with tears rolling down my cheeks, feeling like a failure in my journey to love addict recovery, reading the e-mails we had shared since he left, and glancing over at the Christmas present I bought for him at a time where I was filled with so much hope and appreciation for his presence in my life – I decided I needed to take one huge, gigantic, step back. That even though I felt like I had done everything right by this guy and was happy with the way I approached everything with him, if I allowed this not-quite infidelity to ruin another night of mine, I wasn’t doing myself justice.

Sure, I could cry and carry on, curse his name, delete him and block him from everything in my life, walk away from whatever it is that I felt or I believed or hoped for, and tell myself I made the biggest mistake ever by being interested in him. But that would be a lie.

Because in terms of love and especially in terms of defining ourselves as single women – you have to decide what’s right by you. I have to believe that regardless of the outcome or the bumps along the way – every man, every experience, every flame, every possibility – teaches me something and helps me to grow into the person I’m meant to become. That his desire to undress a possibility other than mine, really had nothing to do with me. That he knew he was free to do so, and while I didn’t desire to, he did. That while we both are not ready for a relationship, I wasn’t prepared to accept that he may be interested in women other than me, and also sleeping with them. That while I don’t think he’s a bad person in the least, my heart feels fragile near him for the time being. That maybe we’re on different pages, different levels of emotional commitment, opposite sides of the tree – maybe both out on different limbs, wondering if jumping is the right decision or not.

And so, I stopped crying. I stopped blaming myself. I stopped calling myself a fool. I stopped obsessing and thinking and analyzing and wondering what in the world I should do about it. Because I can’t solve all of the issues unresolved in my mind and in my heart in a few days, I can’t place pressure to heal the wounds overnight, and I definitely can’t predict the future. And even though I’m incredibly hurt and processing everything in my own way and time, I’m not ready to make cut-and-dry decisions right now. Perhaps his overseas address is even helpful to give me space to determine my own heart. Could I trust in the possibility of us again? I don’t know.

But what’s more important is that I woke up. I got out of my head. Out of the dreamy notions that kept me clutching at possibilities and words, and I welcomed myself back to the real world. Off of a bouquet of tulips-induced flight to cloud nine. And I realized that no matter if I decide I can let go of the image of him with someone else or not, or if I’m completely okay with a no-strings-attached relationship, I know that I can trust myself.

That I know what’s best for me, what’s acceptable in my book, what’s the best road for me to take to find happiness. And though I’m not interested in bringing new possibilities into my bedroom, because that’s just not my style, I think a dinner date or two with other men, or just with myself, may do me some good.

December 30, 2010 by Lindsay Tigar - 11 Comments

The Guy We Pity: Mr. Temporary

Upon returning from my summer internship in New York after my sophomore year in college, I found myself incredibly bored.

Though I had a fantastic group of friends, a demanding associate editor position at the school newspaper, and a college town that welcomed me back with gold-and-black open arms – I missed my city, and nothing seemed to measure up to it. It took me a while to adjust and return back to a comfortable state so I could settle in for another one-and-a-half years of college. And to help me pass the time was Mr. Temporary.

That year for my sorority’s (yes, I’m Greek, no judging) semi-formal not only was I dress-less, but also date-less. Though I tried to project the impression that it didn’t bother me, I did hope that suddenly, out of the framework, someone would appear for me to dance the night away with. To my surprise, my sister, B, hooked me up with a friend of a friend whom she thought I would at least enjoy the company of for an evening.

She was right.

At first glance, Mr. Temporary had the stats of a promising boyfriend: tall, olive skin, green eyes, killer smile, and well-dressed. If you like the cowboy-type-of-thing (I’m not a huge fan), he had that special little twang that’s only derived South of the Mason-Dixon. He was also talented, had goals for himself, and he told me I looked beautiful when he first laid eyes on me. That’s a brownie point in my book.

However, as we continued to see each other after the semi-formal and I learned more about him – I realized how far from my type he actually was. Though he was very intelligent, he was closed-minded about the issues that mattered the most to me. He did want a career with children, which is admirable, but just the thought of New York made him want to gag. He had a very attractive physique, but his kissing skills were way below par for his age. Or really, for any age.

So why, sitting across him over Spicy Tuna and Shrimp Tempura rolls, I agreed to turn my Claddagh ring around, is beyond me.

Maybe it was being lonely and enjoying just having the company of someone, or the way he seemed to be smitten with me, or the safety net of not having to be labeled as single – but something, against my better judgement decided to be an item with a man who I knew would never be the one for the long run. While I really don’t feel like I have any regrets thus far in my life, I will say I made a very poor decision by being “exclusive” with Mr. Temporary.

In the two or three months we dated -I lost interest day-by-day. When we introduced sex into the relationship, I was horrified at how awful it was and how much it lacked passion. When I met his mother, who didn’t know how to stop talking for the entire time we were at dinner, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could stand to be her daughter-in-law. When I met his roommate for the first time, it took every ounce of restraint in me to not flirt with him – for he was miles more attractive than Mr. Temporary. And when it was time to celebrate Valentine’s Day and I knew the girlfriend-thing to do was to buy him something, I couldn’t find any card (even in the “I like you” section) that was appropriate for what I felt.

Mainly because I didn’t really feel anything. That is, anything but fear of being alone.

Sadly, the thing to release me from clinging onto something because I was so terrified of having seemingly-nothing, was the death of my best friend L’s mother. On Friday the 13th, the day before St. Valentine’s infamous day, she lost her 10-year battle with breast cancer, and after I received the bad-news phone call, I rushed out of class and back to embrace L. I sent a quick text message to Mr. Temporary letting him know I would be missing Valentine’s Day and the entire weekend – and then ceased talking to him for four days.

I didn’t even respond to worried texts or calls or Facebook posts because not only was I mourning the loss of a beautiful, wise, and strong woman, consoling L to the best of my ability (there really aren’t words you can say, even as a writer) – I was also using this time to liberate myself from Mr. Temporary. And perhaps, I took that liberation a tad bit far.

I happened to run into Mr. Fling right after the funeral, tears still slightly plummenting down my cheeks, and needing to get back to school for a newspaper meeting that I sincerely didn’t want to attend. He comforted me, held me close, and kissed my eyelids so very tenderly. And in that moment of weakness, in that second of sincerity and care that he offered me, I allowed myself to fall into him. A kiss led to snuggling, which led to a black dress on the floor, which brought us to…

Needless to say, with a million different feelings running haywire in my heart and soul, I knew when I returned back to school – the very last thing I needed was one more headache, especially when I knew I would be causing a heartache. And so, with integrity and honesty, I confessed what I had done and things ended with Mr. Temporary as easily as they began. I made no excuses for cheating and don’t accept them if it’s the other way around, but I was truthful by telling him the reason I strayed wasn’t due to him, but was completely me. I didn’t cry, I didn’t get upset, and I didn’t really mind him being gone. Because that weekend, I learned a very important lesson about life and about love.

It is true that life is short and if you ever enter a relationship with the mindset that it will only be an in-between type of love or someone to fill the cold spot in your bed – you are wasting your time (and their time). Even if you are not seeking a forever partner, marriage, or happily ever after – if you’re allowing the romantic part of your soul to be captivated by someone who doesn’t satisfy, excite, or really match you, the ending will only be hurtful the longer it continues. While some relationships are not meant to last, our hearts are built to endure pain, and the intensity felt at midnight isn’t always as strong when the sun peeks above the skyline – in terms of love, if you know before you even get started that it is fleeting feeling, save yourself the trouble.

Break free of the bounds of fear, of those nagging voices in our heads that tell us that Mr. Right Now is acceptable if we aren’t having any luck meeting Mr. Right, and of our bodies who lust for attention and petting, even if it isn’t the most enjoyable of experiences. Allow the love you have for yourself to gain momentum, take pride in the ability you have to depend on your own person, and for his sake, don’t lead Mr. Temporary on. Especially if there is a Mr. Fling readily available.

December 29, 2010 by Lindsay Tigar - 7 Comments

A Love of My Own

As he has since the moment I met him, Mr. Possibility never fails to make me think.

He’s the type of guy who knows what he knows, but still seeks advice and listens to other’s opinions. Anything that’s said or shared, while not always carefully thought out, has meaning to him. He is the first in my long list of Mr’s who has fully supported and embraced my writing – something that I always hoped I would find in a mate. He even edits these blogs from time-to-time and emails me with suggestions, to “help me improve.” God bless him, but sometimes I just want to smack him.

Nevertheless, he’s been gone for the last three weeks overseas for business and for me, it has really tested our connection. We stay in touch thanks to the many technological wonders of the world and the lovely perk that his company pays for international text messaging (God bless them too). But of course, apart from the random coincidences where we both have enough time to Skype, I don’t get to see his face or spend time in his presence. And for us, that’s been a huge part of what’s brought us together, and personally, being face-to-face helps me trust in the early stages of a courtship.

While he’s been gone, I’ve had this blessed opportunity to take a step back from the butterflies in my tummy, the lingering smell of him on my clothes, and the anticipation for a night out for dumplings, and really figure out what I want. Because, really, a possibility is just that – not out of the question, not set-in-stone, but yet a chance for something more. And though my love addiction qualities will plead that the decision to become less possible and more definite is completely up to him, my heart knows it is as much my decision as it is his.

In the past, I’ve rushed into a relationship for fear that if I didn’t hurry and nail in the man I was eying, he’d lose interest and be gone before I had a moment to think. But now, for the first time, it feels like I’m going about things maturely and with a realistic attitude, as opposed to an emotional one. I’m not only taking into account what it is that I feel, how passionate and incredible the under-the-sheets action is, what I could see down the road, but also listening to what he says (and believing him), paying attention to his actions and choices, and getting to know him for who he is…not for the idea of him. And by balancing a level-mind with the bravery to let myself start to fall for him, I’ve been able to keep my head above the romantic tidal waves, and most importantly – not lose myself in the ga-ganess that dating can bring. My eyes aren’t closed, nor are they wide open – but they are looking inward as much as they are looking forward.

As I sent him a good-night email from the States, knowing I’d wake up to a good morning one from his newfound temporary oasis, it occurred to me that for once, I felt like I was doing the right thing. And not in a relationship or with a man or with a love that could be – but by my own standards. I’m being who I am (freak outs and beauty and all), I’m standing up for what I believe in, saying what I think, and not changing myself to be what I think Mr. Possibility wants me to be.

I may be my hardest critic and the one person in my life that is the most difficult to impress and appease- but when it comes down to it, I count on me for happiness and for contentment. Others will contribute to different parts of my satisifcation, and some may come and they may leave, be a possibility and then impossible, but at the end of the day and the end of my life, I know I have two feet that have served me quite well. And the person I’ve become, the woman I’m still growing into, is a beautiful thing – and not necessary for transformation for the mere purpose of pleasing someone else. It is the one relationship that I know regardless of the troubles or the ups and the downs, is worth any struggle. To create a love of my own, that belongs to me, derives from me, and is between me, will help me be ready for the love of tomorrow and the love of forever.

But no matter what, no one will ever love me, like I love me. And that’s how it should be.

December 26, 2010 by Lindsay Tigar - 12 Comments

Sign, Sign, Everywhere A Sign

In high school and at most of the fraternity parties I attended in college – I was always amazed by people’s obsession with stealing road signs. Whenever I would comment on the Yield or the Stop sign serving as decor in their apartment, the new owners of the signs in question would instantly light up and go into detail about the elaborate story behind their abduction.

While I was never impressed and frankly confused by the allure – I will say I’m a sucker for looking for (and often creating illusionary) signs when I’m in a relationship or interested in someone.

My friends who often poke fun of me for being the romantic “wishes, rainbows, and unicorns” type of gal (though I’m trying to come a little above idealistic water) – always tell me that I make anything and everything into a sign. It could be from the way we met, how his hands look next to mine, a shared interest we have that’s out-of-the-norm, how his last name sounds with mine, the words he writes in hidden notes – to how he remembers my favorite flower and when my freelancing article is coming out and how even though I don’t really “just know” – I’d like to think that I could.

And more often times than not, when a real or pseudo relationship comes to a close – it is not really the man himself, the intimate moments I shared with him, or our long incredible conversations, that I have such a hard time releasing – it is the signs. These minute symbolic matters that made me believe that whatever love I was feeling or hope I was having regarding this man were really not signs of fate or of forever – but rather, just coincidences that I gave meaning to.

Recently, I discovered some information about Mr. Possibility that has made me question not only him, but my feelings towards the road we were easily traveling through. While I haven’t decided if it is a deal-breaker in my book or something I can get over quickly – it has made me realize that sometimes, I just read into things too much. I spend more time trying to dissect meaning between the lines, determine what someone really means (instead of taking them at their word), and often times, I make several somethings out of a hell of a lot of nothing.

One of the guidelines I made clear when I decided to embark on this path and the 12-step program to overcoming my self-proclaimed love addiction was that I would make no rules for myself. I was not going to hold back, I was still going to date, I was still going to fall head over heels if the wind blew me that way, and I was still going to live my life normally – because that is what a journey is. There are ups and downs, sometimes you take three steps back instead of one forward, sometimes you have bumps in the road and sometimes you fly all the way to cloud 9 one day (with 30 tulips), and then reality takes you back down to Earth (with a text message that shakes you up).

So, when Mr. Possibility and I met and started to see one another casually, I decided I would continue because it only would make my goal to reach self-love that much stronger in the long run. And though I went about things differently, opened myself up to different ways of looking at relationships, and allowed myself to let go, even in the slightest way – I did revert back to old-Lindsay habits by looking for signs of love, instead of looking at the signs before my eyes.

Because sometimes, even when you’re trying so hard to be independent and carefree, to put yourself before any relationship or man, to focus on the reality instead of the dream – you get lost in making excuses and seeing what you want to see, instead of listening to your gut.

And when you are able to wake up or something is admitted to you that stirs up some not-so-pleasant feelings – instead of looking for the symbolic reasons behind them or how you can curve the news to be favorable, it is time to start creating our own signs.

To know when to proceed with caution if something doesn’t sit well, to stop a relationship or stop an action or stop in the name of yourself (not in love) if you aren’t happy or satisfied. To yield to what you want as much as you yield to emotions and others. To place a speed limit in your dating life that feels comfortable to you and isn’t based on someone else’s standards. To know how to look for icy conditions ahead and learn how to break with precision and caution, instead of sliding into danger. To look out for the dead end ahead instead of trying out your tires to battle a rocky path to make a road when maybe there was never supposed to be one. To know that sometimes there is only one way to go about something and to not enter when deep down, you know the outcome will only hurt you. That is, unless road construction – not of only your effort, but the man in question’s willpower too, can restructure the route.

And also, to know that even when all the signs point to safety and to “yes” – sometimes you have to be the one to take a step back, let off the gas, and determine what is acceptable for you. To decide if this is a road you want to travel down or if you’d rather turn around and take a left. Because there really are signs all around us and maybe one day when a relationship does work out, when a man is true and trustworthy, when love does last across a distance, and promises are made and kept – we will celebrate all of the seemingly-indicative directions that brought us to this person.

But until then, the best road to take, the route that will give you the most profitable gas mileage, and the clearest conditions you can face – is the path that points directly to you. The signs on that highway will remind you to not stop believing, to let you know you always have the right of way, and while not encouraged, U-turns are allowed, if you so decide to make one.

December 25, 2010 by Lindsay Tigar - 9 Comments

Merry Christmas, With Love

Maybe it is under the mistletoe or under the tree. Maybe it is in the eyes of your grandmother who giggles at the slightest joke. Maybe it is in watching your mom so thrilled to give you a gift she knows you’ll love. Maybe it is your dad’s awful singing as he carves the ham in the kitchen. Maybe it is in your puppy’s excitement as she “opens” her Christmas present well before the actual day comes. Maybe it is in the hopes you have for the holidays to come with your Mr. Right and the children that you can’t imagine their faces, but one day, will look up at you with rosy cheeks and excited eyes.

Maybe we all long for that romantic love, for a man with a big jacket for us to stick our cold hands in, and somehow feel that magic with someone…and it not to go away. But maybe in all of our desiring, all of our hoping, all of our dreaming – we lose sight of the fact that love is truly everywhere. And many of us, even though we’d rather tell Santa to bring us a man instead of another scarf or necklace, forget that the true blessing of the season doesn’t come from a person, but from ourselves.

I’m under the belief that much of our happiness and our sadness is direcly correlated to the decisions we make. When we’re feeling down-in-the-dumps about a relationship that could have been that now never will or upset with the universe for leaving us alone, again, at Christmas – to snap out of the rut, it really is our choice. No present with a red bow or apple pie can turn it around for us – no matter how many we rip open or bites we take.

So while I’m recovering from food poisioning and wasn’t exactly able to overeat on Christmas Eve as I usually do, and even though things with Mr. Possibility have become quite shaky in the last few days – I’m making a decision – or rather, a demand on myself – to choose to keep the Christmas spirit. To not let any illness or emotional rollercoaster take away from the brilliance, from the wonder, the beauty that this special time brings.

In celebration of all things love, I must share my blog lovers: those men and women who are such avid supporters of what I write and my journey. Of those who comment and click, tweet, and tumble, and keep me motivated and encouraged – no matter what is going on in my life.

So while you’re recovering from a food-coma and getting up entirely too early or spending way too much time with extended family members – take a stop by these blogs to meet my “love addicts” who are truly a blessing in my life. I’m so thankful for each of you.

Merry Christmas, from my heart to yours, with love:

Courting Adell

DearExGirlfriend

From Falling Water

Medaniellemarie

Tallbrewnette

Jenn’s Blog

Binary Boyfriend

Cat’s City Life

Leila Castaneda

Kternes

iTiffTaffTuff