I'm Back!!!

Hello Mister Blog!!! It's so lovely to see you again! I've truly missed blogging and sharing my life's tales. I took a moment to think about why I haven't blogged in a few months. What comes to mind is just how busy I've been. But if I dig a little deeper, I think it may also have something to do with a growing level of maturity. Perhaps I don't feel the need to share every detail of my dating life anymore. (Or that every website now seems to be devoted to "twenty-something dating articles."). And who am I to be a cliche?

 It has been quite a year dating-wise. If you are my friend, then you know just what I mean. But for now, I will keep those memories to myself. It's funny, one night this summer I was at dinner with the man I was dating, Kyle. Over a bowl of baked ziti, I told him about the fifty-two journals that sit in a box under my bed in my parents house. I explained how I've been writing in a journal almost every day since I was twelve years old. He looked at me with a look of amazement and confusion I couldn't quite read. It was then that he said softly, "Don't you want to keep things private, just for yourself?" I replied, "Those journals are just for me, they are for myself." And then Kyle said, "I don't mean to be morbid, but one day when you're gone, those journals won't be for you--they will be for everyone. 

Well, he got me there. I surely had not thought of that. With that sentiment ingrained in my mind forever, I say this: To my future husband, children and grandchildren...I'm sorry  that you may one day have to read about your Grandma's naked adventures. At the very least, you'll know Grandma Lauren didn't miss out on her twenties.

This leads me to my next point. Tomorrow marks the last month of my twenties. In one month I will leave this crazy, confusing, life-altering, fun, surprising, life lessons learned decade behind. And I start a new chapter. It's a chapter I have many mixed feelings about. (Thank god for therapy). A good friend once said to me, "Fisher, I love you--but I don't want to be anywhere near you when you turn thirty. I have a feeling you won't go down easy."

He is probably right. But hopefully, (my fair blog readers), we will navigate through my thirties together. Until then.

Seasons have come and gone since I've written last. (Hello Summer, so lovely to see you again). Here is a short tale to ease myself back into the world of blogging.

On Friday night I was hanging out in a crowded bar. As I made my way through a sea of twenty-somethings, I attempted to get a drink near a group of boys who were taking shots at the bar. They were all attractive and looked to be on the younger side, maybe twenty-five or so. One of them started chatting me up, his hand kept touching my waist and the small of my back. I don't remember the beginnings of our conversation, but I do remember what stopped me in my tracks. He asked, "Where do you go to school?" I answered like I mis-heard him and said I went to The University of Rhode Island. "Ahhh, URI," he said. I haven't been asked what school I go to in a long time. Where do you go to school had been replaced long ago with, what do you do? Then my young friend asked me where I lived. I told him the neighborhood I lived in, and asked him the same. He told me he was living in the NYU dorms for the summer. And that's what this has come to. I was being hit on by a boy who was born in 1992, eight years my junior. A soon to be senior in college.  This would have been fine if this were 2005 and I was going into my senior year. But alas, I am twenty-nine. He asked for my number, I told him I was too old for him. He didn't believe me, and asked how old I was. I told him that he didn't want to know. He kept prodding until I finally said, "twenty-nine." He gasped, and I walked away.

Some Lessons about Boys and Things

If ever there was a week for reflection, this is it--just a few days shy of my twenty-ninth birthday, and Day four of my Strep throat/Flu sickness. Spending twenty plus hours in bed, self-reflection and introspection were high on my list of things to do. What I came up with is this: I have learned a great deal this year; in regards to others, as well as sharpening my understanding of myself. I'd like to use this post as a way to reflect on some of the significant relationships from my twenty-eighth year. I have been much more private in my blog than ever before, and tonight I return to my old ways. I want to write a little about the gents--but more importantly, the lessons that I came away with, when those gents and I parted ways. I will conclude tonight's post with "going forward" (in year twenty-nine), and the changes I hope to make. In the past when things didn't work out with a guy I liked, friends would say, "It's a learning experience." I used to think, I'd rather it just work out then "learn something," And, while I still hope for the relationship, as opposed to the post-relationship lesson... I am somewhat comforted by the amount I've learned this year.

Once I eliminated a toxic presence in my life, I was ready to let someone new in. And last February, I met Aaron. Aaron and I met at a mutual friend's wedding.  Aaron taught me many things, like if you're a boy, and you press hard onto my bladder it will make me laugh, and probably make me like you. Aaron and I shared an instant chemistry, and I will never forget how excited I was the day after the wedding, to tell my friends about this guy I had unexpectedly met. Aaron was very quick to share his feelings for me. (Something I was not used to), and was ready for a serious commitment early on. Valentine's Day was about a week after I had met him, and Aaron wrote me a very lovely Valentines note. It was quite possibly the nicest message anyone of the opposite sex has ever written to me. In the end, I don't think Aaron and I were quite right for each other, and I was the one who decided to end the relationship. What I took away from my time knowing Aaron is an understanding of what a guy will do for you, when he really cares about you. There was no game playing, and the courting process was simple and straightforward. After years of analyzing text messages, and Gchats-- it was an unbelievably refreshing change. Just as important, I learned that when something does not feel right, it's important to trust your instincts, and do what feels best--even if it's a difficult choice that may hurt someone else.

Then last June, on the first official night of summer, I met Dave. Our first date was simply fine. Dave was perfectly sweet and fun--I just didn't know if I could see us having more than a friend-like chemistry.  If after that date, I hadn't heard from Dave again, it would have been okay. But, when Dave asked me out a second time, I thought, sure, why not?  Date two was much, much better than date one. And by date three, I was smitten. Date four I was pretty much in love. (Okay, I wasn't actually in love by date  four). But, my point is: I let something grow slowly, and each time we saw each other, and the more I got to know him, I grew to like Dave more and more. It's how dating SHOULD be.  What I took away from my time with Dave is this: Take your time in getting to know someone. Take things slowly, you can always go slower than you think you have to. Give someone a chance. One date may not be enough to tell how you feel. (Unless of course said guy talks about how much ass he gets at bars each weekend--then it's okay not to go out with them again).  But, most importantly: Dave showed me how it  looks to end things in a polite, respectful way. When Dave decided to end our relationship, he did it in person; sensitively and kindly breaking the news to me. (Over a Bacardi and Diet Coke).  He certainly did not text or e-mail me. Or even worse--just stop talking to me. He behaved like a man, and treated me with the respect I deserved. His tact and kindness allowed me to move on much more quickly than he had left me with unanswered questions.

Most recently there was Adam.  This is a tough one to write about, because I'm still in throws of my "recovery." (Please forgive me if I sound mildly traumatized, it's because I am). By all rules applied, Adam and I should have never had a first date. We met at a bar, and went home with each other the very same night. Don't get me wrong. I was instantly attracted to Adam, not only physically, but I was attracted to his energy. I liked him right away. He was positive, cheerful with a great smile. I was quite certain that I was not the only girl in the bar who noticed him. The following day, I was certain I had "messed up," any chance of a real relationship. I tried to remain optimistic, that he could still take me seriously. And against all odds, he did. And, we went out on a proper date. (Otherwise known as backwards dating, when your first date happens after you've already seen each other naked). We had a few "proper dates," Those dates felt magical to me. Fun, engaging and just the right amount of flirtation. And as they say; it turned out that Adam was just not that into me. Rejection is never easy. Humbling? Yes. An experience everyone should go through? Yes. But, is it easy? Fuck no.  Especially when you really liked the person, and in the moments you spent together, you thought it was mutual. I write this to you as I try and sort out my hurt, and still confused feelings. Surely, everyone must feel that way, some form of--how could he/she not feel the same way I do? We've all been on both ends--this just might be the suckier end.

It's tough to have these relationships end before they get off the ground. And a person can only go through these disappointment so many times before (they lose their minds a little), and a change is made. The best I can come up with for now is remaining a bit more guarded. (Sans revealing things in my blog of course). Perhaps I am too open, (vulnerable), and am asking for trouble. Another important change I will make going forward is this: I vow to take things very slowly. Once the pants come off, all bets are off, and I'm probably gonna fall in love with you. Going forward, all I can do is try my very best to be cool. (I've never been good at that).  And yes, Keep those Spanx on!  (Until I know something is really going somewhere). It's just too hard otherwise.