A Sucker for Romance: A Self-Psycho-Analyzation

As much as I try to deny it and act unimpressed by random acts of chivalry, I love the idea of being swept off my feet by an affectionate and considerate man. I blame my avid watching of Disney Princess films throughout my childhood for this, as do many other women. But there's certainly a lot more to it than just pop culture..

I grew up around boys. Two younger brothers automatically provided a steady stream of testosterone through my childhood home, not only from my siblings, but from their friends that ran rampant around my backyard. I had girl friends. Lots of them. But there was something more exciting about "hanging with the boys". I'm sure it was a combination of the attention I received from them along with the fact that I really wasn't allowed to be running around the neighborhood with these "rascals", playing shooter games with sticks and climbing up trees to drop water balloons on unsuspecting passersby. But I was also drawn to the "dudes" because I felt like I could relate to them. The first 5 or 6 years of my life were spent travelling and readjusting and most of my time was spent with my brothers alone. Two of them; one of me. Our ratio was off so as much as I pushed them to play dress-up or Barbie Dreamhouse with me, they naturally won the argument and we spent the days doing boy things. I didn't mind it. And I got used to it. And I liked doing the "guy stuff".

I think those first few years of your childhood really shape who you are and stay with you throughout your entire life. I've recently discovered that my personality, particularly when it comes to relationships, has always battled between two sides: realistic, calm, passive vs imaginative, excitable, aggressive. It fairly easy to determine between the sides where the traits came from.

As a woman, I'm naturally more in touch with my emotional side. I dream big dreams and allow myself to be convinced that if there's a will, there's a way. It goes without saying that this is not the most satisfying philosophy to guide your life as most things won't work out. Things change, people change, and you grow, whether you'd planned to or not. I still get excited over the smallest of things and tend to over-analyze everything. I notice myself apologizing for that quality quite a bit, but if I were truly sorry for it, wouldn't I change it? I think so, and while I have made strides to tone-down my active thoughts, I can't say that I've totally eliminated them. So a strong part of me must be proud of my critical thinking. I guess in a way it's a protective mechanism. If I can over-think something to the point that I've determined every possible outcome, then I can't beat myself up about being disappointed when the disappointments come along. I'd mentally prepared for the worst and so I should have been expecting the results. The downside to this is that I sometimes over-think it to death and kill the potential before it's even planted its roots.

I say this as though I've become immune to heartache, which isn't true. I still feel. A lot. Too much usually. That is one part of me that I wouldn't mind getting rid of. That's also a very feminine part of me, a very fragile and sensitive part. But it's also because of this part, I've realized, that I'm able to love so wholly and unselfishly. Not just lovers, but friends and family. It's a blessing and a curse all in one, but it is a strange and rare comfort to know that at the end of the day there is little more I could have done to show someone how much I love them. This is where my aggression comes into play. I very actively and openly feel for the people around me, because if roles were switched I'd want to be that sure of what I mean to someone. But unfortunately, not everyone likes to be so sure. And even more so, not everyone likes to show.

The side I inherited from growing up around boys clings to the realism and passiveness. That nonchalant, "I'll-let-you-make-the-move" attitude that most teenage/young adult males carry with them. Granted, that's a very small part of my personality because Lord knows I'm impatient. But as I've dealt with let-down after let-down, I've learned to be more realistic in what I want and what I expect. It's a tough battle to fight, between realism and the fantasy world, and I often find myself floating a few inches above reality. But as long as I can still see the ground then I can be sure that my fall won't hurt too much. And if it does, then I can't blame anyone besides myself for letting me float so high up.

It's because of my "guy side" that I admit with strong reluctance my fascination with romance. It's a nice thought, in theory. The movies make it into this huge aspect of a relationship and the reason why the girl falls for the boy. But why does romance have to be so outward? Why does it have to be a big production in Grand Central Station with a flash-mob and '80s love ballads and flowers and ballons and doves? Or a wedding proposal in front of the Eiffel Tower just before a huge fireworks show starts ending with a lift-you-off-your-feet kiss? I've never experienced anything of that scale, but to be honest, that would stress me out more than make me swoon. The few romantic events of my life have made me anxious and a little bit queasy. I'm not sure if that's because I was carrying a bit of guilt in realizing I didn't feel as strongly or if my anxiety simply cannot handle such extravagance.. But whatever reason it may be, I've never had much interest in experiencing a huge display of romance. I like my (much) smaller scale ideals of romanticism: of early morning walks on the beach in our pjs and me with no makeup or of ordering Chinese takeout and watching SNL reruns; of quick trips to the grocery store with playful yet serious arguments over spaghetti or bowtie pasta or of simply waking up in the morning to the light touch of finger tips brushing back my hair. I think the little things mean more as far as romance goes.

So maybe the "guy side" of me has dwindled a bit, but it's still there. I think that shows in my simplicity. I'd much rather be the caretaker versus the taken-care-of. It's simple words and simple acts that I notice. Other girls requesting to be whisked away by their "Prince Charming", to be taken on surprise trips to Disneyland, to be sung cheesy love songs on their birthday... I vomit a bit in my mouth. And I stubbornly scoff and roll my eyes at the thought. Mostly because I'm too independent for my own good and think that a life dependent on a man is a very sad and unfulfilling one. Falling for the trend of "true love" and fantasy still feels like a surrender and a sacrifice more than a happy ending and I'll continue to be picky and fickle and doubtful of it all until someone can convince me otherwise.



But coming home to a bouquet of gerber daisies doesn't sound like the worst gesture in the world...

The More I Think About It...

…the more depressed I get about Harry Potter ending. I know it’s not really ending since we’ll always have the books and the movies to rewatch… and we have Pottermore to look forward to. But it’s just really sad that this is the last film and the last time that I’ll be heading to a midnight premiere. It’s marking the end of an era. And it’s another reminder that my childhood is over. It’s sad.

I remember the anticipation I felt before seeing the first HP film. I’d been a strong follower of the first few books and had high expectations for the films as well. Seconds into the opening scenes of The Sorcerer’s (Philosopher’s) Stone, I recall myself sitting on edge with excitement and immediately falling in love with the actors. I learned their names nearly right away and quickly developed a crush on Daniel Radcliffe. It was actually borderline obsessive with the printed photos I’d posted all over my walls and the “dream scenes” I’d written myself into for a Harry Potter world that included me as a witch. I even made this embarrassing video that I sent to Daniel for his birthday, narrating my life and introducing him to my family while asking all sorts of questions. I was overly ecstatic to receive a Thank You letter from Dan a few months later attached to an autographed photo. I lived Harry Potter. I was convinced, much like many other HP fans, that I would receive my owl to Hogwarts on my eleventh birthday. Even after I’d celebrated my thirteenth birthday I still hadn’t given up hope. And a strong part of me still crosses my fingers for that owl…

I hate to sound like everyone else who is nostalgic for “the ending”, but the Harry Potter Series really did give my generation so much hope. Hogwarts and the magical scenes surrounding became our dream world; where we could escape from our own lives and immerse ourselves in this beautiful fantasy where almost anything could happen. Harry Potter fans have imagined themselves and their roles in the Harry Potter series. We’ve found our houses and our wands.. or more, they’ve found us; we’ve boarded Platform 9 and 3/4 and chatted with friends aboard the Hogwarts Express; we’ve dined in the Great Hall and ventured to Hogsmeade in the snow. We’ve stashed away Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott’s Beans into the pockets of our robes and sipped on warm mugs of Butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. We’ve felt the love and protection from Hagrid and we’ve cringed at the sight of Snape. We’ve flown on our brooms and cheered on our House in Quidditch. We’ve dealt with death and loss as well as birth and growth. We’ve stood by the Golden Trio and battled Voldemort for nearly thirteen years. Our childhood was better because of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and everyone else in the series. Our childhood was better because of J.K. Rowling.

I know that I can’t dream forever and I know that the stories of Harry Potter must come to a close, but that doesn’t mean it’s really ending. I know that a piece of Harry will live on inside of me, inside all of us… all because we became who we are today by reading these books and watching these films. We grew into our true selves with the aid of JKR and Harry, Ron and Hermione, Daniel, Rupert and Emma. Thanks to Harry Potter we learned courage, self-sacrifice, and strength. We found friendship, love, compassion, devotion, and trust.Thanks to Harry Potter we found a sense of belonging and guidance to happiness.

Thanks to Harry Potter we found real magic.

Not seeing you is making me want you so much more. If that's your plan, it's working.

I'm intoxicated with thoughts of you. It's certainly not normal, but I don't mind one bit. I'm throwing most of what I've got into this right now and I have no idea where you stand. And for now, I'm fine not knowing. I trust you and I know something good will come out of this. I hope you feel that too.

Overdue

I was willing. I tried. I tried hard and felt like the only one.

You changed in the time that we were apart. And that's okay for you, but not for me. Not when I was hoping for consistency, for familiarity. I was hoping to depend on you like I used to. I was hoping to find so much comfort in your words. And for some reason, this time around, I just couldn't. But I did try. And now I wonder if I should have waited a bit longer. I know you'll suggest I should have; that it was too fresh, that we both needed time to get back into a swing.
You threw me completely off-guard and I fell fast and hard to the ground. You made comments and did things that I never thought you capable of. You were disrespectful and short tempered and not the open-minded and free-loving person I met almost 2 years ago. That part of you confused me and I crawled back into my cave and the walls shot right back up.
I wanted the romance. Maybe it was a bit too soon, but that's what I needed. I know that part of you is still here. It's who you are and it's the first thing I fell in love with. The hardest part of all of this is knowing that you never put any of that on the forefront. Despite your reasons for holding back, I was expecting more emotion from you.
And now I'm back to where I was before. Except this time, you're ignoring me. I can't say I blame you fully. I'm a hypocrite for wanting consistency and not giving it. So for that, I am sorry. But I wish you could find some patience to set aside for me.
While this has felt like more of an ending than ever before, I'm not done trying. I'm not ready to give up on you.

over a year later

and i feel like i'm back on the backburner.
it won't work like this.

and so it goes...

as the entirely of the world around me crumbles down into messy, convoluted pieces and as the channels in my brain fishtail plait themselves into a mess of mind-numbing fuckery and jibberish, i am excited for this. i can't help but allow myself to hold some hope.
i have so much power at this point. and you can bet your bottom dollar i'm going to stretch it out for as long as i'm able. i deserve this. and you know it. that's what makes this all so much more enjoyable.

but as much lee-way i know i carry, i'm giving this to you. this is in your hands.

prove me wrong, you win.






you always liked games though, didn't you?

lifted weights

i just have to get this off my chest.

wednesday night was incredible. one of the best nights i have had in a long long time. as childish as it was to leave my house in the pouring rain in the middle of the night and to sit in my parked car outside of his house for 3 hours, our conversation was one of the most comfortable i've had in months.
and just... everything. being kissed like that. being held like that. for someone to get clammy hands over me... to make someone that nervous. to make someone that excited to spend time with me...and then to make someone so happy over just being able to kiss me. such a good good feeling.
and it went both ways. i was just as excited. and just as happy. and just as mesmerized.
and those eyes. god damn those eyes. and that smile. damn.

then those subtle remarks: "you should have a girlfriend...", "you...you.". and the face holding. and pushing back my hair. and all the holding. goodness, all that holding. i felt so secure with myself and so comfortable with everything.

my compulsive side says we can. we can try. we can do it. but i know we never will. and i know we never could. it's too fragile and it would break so quickly. but i love the idea.

i don't need anyone to take care of me. i don't. i don't. i don't.

i cut my bangs

i haven't had bangs in over a year. just about.
today i took scissors and snipped away until i was satisfied.
there's something freeing about cutting your own hair. dead cells with no nerve endings, but still a part of you and your body.
i want to chop all of my hair off one day. it's always been on my mind and i really think it's something i should do at some point in my life. i was tempted to do it today. i stared at myself in the mirror for a good 60 seconds before i made the decision to put the shears back on the counter.
the sad thing is, the only reason why i didn't do it is because i'm worried about what people would think. i'm worried that people wouldn't think i'm pretty anymore.

i love being home and feeling whole again. that void is somehow always filled when i'm back, even though so much is still awry.

i tell my mom a lot these days. much more than i would have ever dared to tell her when i still lived in this house. and she's the same way. there are no filters between us anymore...at least none that are too limiting. i like that.

i'm struggling to figure out if i want a relationship or just a warm body. most nights, i just want a warm body. boyfriends make me feel sick and being a girlfriend again makes me feel even sicker.
but then there are a lot of times when i want romance in my life again. it's funny how i used to thrive off of the romance and it was all that i believed in. i'm not so sure about it anymore. i'm not sure if there is such a thing, and if there is, if i even need it at all. i've done so well without it at this point...
i don't believe in love anymore either. and commitment. and trust. they aren't real. they're feelings. and feelings are fleeting.

hopeless romantic gone pessimist.
and perfectly content with it all.

Back into the swing of things...

It's been quite a while since I've really written out anything that I've been thinking or feeling lately. Which is incredibly surprising since there is so much going on in my life right now that I can hardly keep myself going. I can't figure out if I'm happy or not. I feel happy. I feel more upbeat and fulfilled and I feel like I'm definitely satisfied with my life here in Eugene...but then I get to thinking about the bigger picture and how much else there is for me to deal with and then I can't possibly imagine that I'm truly happy.

Isn't it true that when a new door opens we tend to backtrack and reconsider? I suppose that's not always true for everyone...but I feel like it is for me. I can never move onto a new stage without thinking back on the past. I don't know if I do this to be sure not to make the same mistakes again or if I just do it to compare... I have a really difficult time living in the present. I've been working on that, but I still can't break the habit.

I actually kind of expected this relapse. I did. I know myself and my emotions well enough by now that I can tell when I'm going to be stupid. The surprising part about this time around is that I started missing you. And I feel stupid because I know I've dragged you through so much bullshit and so much confusion over the past year. And I know that I was the one who left you behind. And now there's a part of me that wants to go back to you? That's ridiculous.

But as ridiculous as it sounds to me, to you, and to everyone else, it's definitely true. We never had our shot and maybe now I'm ready to try. But then again, maybe I'm not. I haven't seen you in weeks and the last time we made contact it was a complete accident, a circumstance of which I am sure you've tried to avoid at all costs. I have no idea where your head is these days and I have no knowledge of any kind of relationship you may be trying to have right now...but I do find myself hoping to run into you.

You know who I used to compare you to when we were together. And as shitty as that was, it made sense. Now, you're the one sweeping through my thoughts when I finally feel like I'm ready to be with someone new. It's something I did not expect to happen, especially after the way we left things.

I miss having someone around who gets me. I miss the familiarity and the comfort of having a best friend. I miss having intelligent conversations with someone who has opinions that are polar opposite than mine. I miss how easy it was between us, even though we were always in disagreement about something. I liked that you had opinions and thoughts and feelings and beliefs. And I liked that you put up with the fact that I would never back down from my own.

I hope this post comes as a surprise to you. I'm sure it will. And I hope it makes you mad, or at least frustrates you. I'm sure it will, too, because we both now how easily it is for me to stir up those emotions in you. I'm stubborn and fickle and indecisive and complicated. I've known my flaws and I've learned to adapt to life without them taking over my thought-processes entirely. But this is one compulsive post that I felt was necessary. It's been steeping in my mind for too long now and hopefully this gets to you some day.

I'm not asking you to act on anything I've said here, but I would be lying if I told you I'm not expecting some sort of response from you. Whether it takes you 5 minutes or 5 months, I'm sure it'll come around eventually. And I'll be ready. Be it good or bad.