Surrendering the need to be liked

I have finally accepted something big. My exes don’t have to like me. 

I have this strange, at times consuming, desire to be liked – even adored.

I suppose it’s fine, in general, if a bit narcissistic.

When it comes to exes? There’s just no need. You may not think fondly of me. Hell, I don’t necessarily think fondly of you either, and that’s okay. We don’t need to be friends after we stop dating. Now, if we were friends first, that’s one thing. But if we met for the express purpose of dating, I probably don’t want to be your friend once we stop dating. Nothing personal, per se. I ask for a lot from my close friends. More than I’d ask for from someone that I was casually dating or even in a relationship with, depending on the person. If those needs weren’t met by you in that role, I can’t imagine them being met by you as a friend.

Last night the woman I dated this summer dropped off the $100 she owed me (ticket refund – canceled concert due to weather) and some skirts I had given her (Crap. I really didn’t want/need those back.). After this display of “Oh hey I’ll finally return your stuff after over three months,” I thought briefly, “Maybe we could be friends!” Then I squashed that idea. We don’t need to be friends. Plus I had already deleted her contact info from my phone. (Good job, me!)

It was the weirdest dating situation. I hope to never repeat it with anyone else. 

We dated sporadically, yet exclusively, for about three months. We kissed once, on our second date. I initiated it. She didn’t expect it and turned for a cheek kiss. Then readjusted for a kiss, kiss. That is it. One kiss. I don’t really recall holding hands, or much affection beyond hugging. I do recall flirting over text, but nothing overtly sexual. We went to concerts, stayed in a hotel together, traveled a bit, went to Pride together, even attended a wedding together, but still – nothing progressed. I told her she was pretty. She called me handsome. No future plans were made, not much innuendo was shared.

That is, until the night before I got the ill-fated, “We should talk” text. The night before, she had been drinking. She sent multiple texts insinuating that if I came over, we could have some action. It was late, my child was in bed, and I was in no place or shape to rush over to her apartment for a booty call. She was denied. The next day the text came. Then the phone call. We were no longer dating. I was sad, sure, but mostly a little pissed off because I wanted my summer to be the summer of making out and instead it had become the summer of a relationship that never really was. I am worth more than a three-months-in-the-waiting booty call. It ended over a one-sided phone call (I get low on words when I can predict the outcome and don’t have a strong desire to change it). Done. 

Until last night – when I got a text asking if she could return my things and my money (Hell yes!). I made a mad dash to get her book and sunglasses and set them on the porch for her. Then I ran to the bathroom to take a huge dump (Hey. Poop happens.). I assume, in that time, she returned my things and gathered hers. It felt so good to get the $100 back. So good, in fact, that I immediately Snap’d a (baller) money photo to the woman I am currently dating. Classy I know. 

So glad this chapter is finally closed.

You may be thinking, “Holy shit, jackass, you just wrote a lot about something/someone you supposedly don’t care much for.” Fair point, fair point. 

I feel strongly that every relationship is a stepping stone. I am stepping up to something better. More loving, more consistent, more affectionate, more honest. I hope to get there soon.

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Mistakes and Chemistry 

Are they mistakes, really? I mean, if you do a thing (say, accidentally click on someone you dated’s instagram), was it a mistake? Or was it to show you *oh holy shit this person deleted all digital existence of the fun things you did together and that is disappointing*. Hmm. Freaky business, this life.

I wrote about a person I went on a few dates with on here recently. We are no longer dating. Long story short – I can’t do poly. At least not her way (there’s so much more to it, like mountains more, but I don’t even know where to start). 

My new life motto is, if I have a good amount of “Wow. My life doesn’t suck without you” (sung to the tune of Kelly Clarkson) feels after I’m no longer dating someone, I’ve made the right life choice.  2/2 on motto so far. A+ Will continue to employ.

The good news is – there are other fish in the sea. I have two dates coming up with women who are:

a) my type

b) hopefully not stinky (if you know me, you know. a gentleladygrandpa doesn’t go into detail.)

c) also hopefully women that I have chemistry with

I plan to meet them both within the week. Wish me luck!

Semi-related – tonight a table of lesbians and/or queer women checked me out and I was grumpy about it. CUT. IT. OUT. I should have been appreciative of being SEEN. Silly, silly me. 

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The Happiest Band Ever

I had the immense pleasure and joy of seeing “A Great Big World” last week. They came to the state fair. I’ve been wanting to see them since I heard they’d be playing at the bandshell. I really only knew two of their songs, “Say Something,” and “Hold Each Other.” To be honest, I was a little bit obsessed with “Hold Each Other.”  (Still am.)

Fast forward to the concert, one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to in my life! This band exudes pure joy and happiness. They love what they do. They make amazing music. Live, they sound a lot more rock and roll than they do on their studio albums. I’m not complaining. I like both. All that tells me is that I am definitely going to have to see them live again. 

Here’s a short snippet from my favorite song, “Hold Each Other.” (I originally posted it on instagram.) 

If the embedded video doesn’t work, click here.

Also, here are some of their lyrics, because this is good stuff:

“I am way too young and I won’t stop running.”

“Violets and purples, diamonds and circles, you’re my kaleidoscope.”

“I’ve been looking in the wrong place, couldn’t see what I’ve always known. I was facing the wrong way. I missed it all, I missed it all. I don’t care what they all say. Let me find my own way home. I don’t care if my heart breaks. All I want is love.”

The entire lyric of “Land of Opportunity.” What a great breaking up / moving on song!

I love them. They’re my new R.E.M. They’re like the modern day Simon and Garfunkel, only more rock and even more happy!

Also, can we talk about how fab (hottttt) Chad King is? If he’s into non-binary queer folk (fingers crossed), let it be known – I am into him!

I took that photo. Promise.  đŸ™‚

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Remarkable Happiness

I feel remarkably happy this evening. I saw my reflection on the train and thought, “NICE!” Feels great. Understatements!

(gif credit: a tumblr that I can’t find right now)

I’ve had so many thoughts and feelings this evening about service kink (which doesn’t have much to do with me, but has a good amount to do a couple of people that I’ve dated and one potential person that is newish in my life). I don’t see anything funny / jokey about service kink, either. I think it’s a legit kink and the more I think about it the more I’m realizing I’ve dated at least two people who most likely had/have that kink. It seems like a pattern in my life that might be worth exploring further. I am not talking about service tops, either. I rarely date tops, of any fashion.

I’ve also been thinking about gender and how I’m pretty much done with people who think they know and think they’re “woke” and “trans / non-binary friendly” consistently using incorrect pronouns, using way too many gendered terms to describe things / people, obsessing about terms like “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” and how damn hard it is for them to use “they.” Pro tip: it isn’t. If you can’t handle using gender-neutral pronouns to refer to a person (a valid, worthy human being) because you think it confuses the people you’re talking to, you need to get over yourself. Selfish. The more I think about it, if you identify strictly as a lesbian or as bisexual within any sort of gender-binaried sexuality, we really can’t be together. Trust me. It won’t work.

While we’re on the topic of things I’m over, I’m also over people who don’t value my time. Really – people who don’t respect others’ time. If we have plans, you need to be on time. Exceptions are made for emergencies. I have no time for last minute “preoccupied” flakes ( yes, I am talking about a specific person / incident here and no, that person most definitely does not read my blog). I don’t care how similar our gender identities may be and/or how similar our attraction(s) may be. You just ruined your first impression so badly and you wasted my time. Boom. Done.

More on that topic, tangentally… I have a lot of thoughts/feels about ageism and maturity levels. When I was younger, I constantly rallied against the notion that maturity level could be at all connected with age. Especially for adults. The older I get, the more I disagree. I do believe that maturity level can be strongly connected to the amount (and depth/breadth) of life experience you’ve had. Also connected with maturity level would be the amount of self-centeredness you display. The more self-centered you are, the less mature you are. A lot of this stuff seems obvious. I’ve been making a number of good, strong, healthy connections lately and those are some of them. 

Don’t even get me started on how internet culture  / impersonal communication has made people / relationships / real live connections disposable. Don’t even. I believe I’ve written about it before… (so. many. times.)

(A friend posted this today. Accurate. Timely.)

And on that note, I’m putting my remarkably happy (s)ass(y) to bed.

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Reclaiming Space, Reclaiming Places

Today I went somewhere with a dear friend of mine. I’d probably been there many times before – but it didn’t stick with me then. 

The last time I went to this place was nearly a year ago, early on in a relationship. It was beautiful. We made out on some random person’s dock. It started to rain, so very lightly. We had inside jokes. We teased each other. We smiled. BIG. We held hands. It was a damn near perfect moment in time.

We’re not together anymore. It’s for the best. Truly, deeply, believe it. I hadn’t gone back to that place since that time. I had no pictures from the last time, only what was saved in my memory. Yet still, I found that space so tied to someone else. 

I went there today with one of my best friends. The only thing missing (today) was the hummingbirds. I hope if I go in a month or two I can see them again.  I reclaimed the space. It’s beautiful. I can go there with anyone, at any time that I want. No reservation, nor hesitation.

It’s fascinating how a place gets so tied to a person. You forget that you were at the space too. That the space was always yours. It was never theirs. 

Don’t let anyone take a place away from you. Don’t give up your ownership of space. You deserve to take up space. You deserve to experience beauty. 

It’s mine now. I keep it. I may choose to share with others, but it was never “ours.” It’s been there for me all along.

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Step back

I’m always amazed when I hear (of) people saying that their exes texted them. Either apologizing, or begging them to take them back. Huh.

My most recent ex has texted me a couple of times lately. Once to wish me happy birthday. No thank you. And another to tell me about a buy one get one at Chipotle. Really? Really? We’re not buddies. Don’t randomly text me once every couple of weeks. It is not appreciated. We. Are. Not. Friends.

image

^^^Someday I will have this. ^^^
It will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine.

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Making Brownies

I’m making brownies tonight. Normally this wouldn’t be that exciting of an occasion, but I’ll explain why it is right now. My most recent ex was super into making brownies. She had a serious sweet tooth. It seems like the smaller the person I date the larger their sweet tooth. I had another ex who was obsessed with mochas and would have at least one huge mocha everyday. I also had an ex who really didn’t eat much at all, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

Anyway, back to the brownies. I’m making brownies. She left four boxes of brownies at my house when she took all of her things. There was some other stuff left here that I just tossed. Inconsequential kitchen stuff that I would never eat. – but – Why throw out a perfectly good box of brownies? So tonight I’m making a box. Something I would rarely do on my own, because as much as I love sweets (and love to talk about sweets), I don’t eat them very often. So here’s to life. Here’s to brownies. And here’s to me realizing at some random point in the middle of the day today that I really don’t think about her that much lately. Certainly not every day anymore. It gets less and less as time goes by. Big smiles at that thought. Brownies all around.

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