***More from Caleb's point of view***
Most guys don't like to admit their vulnerabilities. We're a product of this society that tells us we have to kill people like Rambo or at least beat up people like Rocky. Basically we have to embody some Sylvestor Stallone movie persona. Real men don't cry at long distance commercials or cuddle with puppies or make the active choice to go see a romantic comedy without some girl dragging them to it. We grunt, burp, hang posters of half naked women on our walls, scratch ourselves, hunt things, argue over whose sport's team is best, and drink lots of beer with our buffalo wings. These are the rules and one must not deviate or he will be mocked mercilessly by his friends.
Sorry to disapoint but I'm not like most guys;although I'm proud of the guys I am like. My brother, my father, and I all cried when my mom fought breast cancer. She won the battle by the way and has been in remission for seven years. We've always had a family dog that really is part of the family. When I moved out of my parents house I still came by almost daily to visit the dog....and my parents too. I have actually fantasized about my wedding day, not the specifics like flowers or place settings cause I know nothing about that stuff, but when and where and who the girl might be. And one of my biggest goals in life is to have kids. I only hope I can be even half as amazing to those kids as my parents were to me.
Real men don't admit they have fears. We kill spiders and investigate scary noises in the dark. Once again I am not like most men. You know what scares me? Lila scares me. She was married once before, owned a home with that man, and they even tried to start a family together. They say you never forget your first. This was a person she thought she would spend the rest of her life with and it didn't work out, so how do you ever really know? Sarah hurt me, but I can't imagine pledging forever to someone and then backing out of it all. I don't know the guy Lila was married to and I don't want to judge him; I just don't get it. What if that happened with Lila and me? Not that we're anywheres close to that point but I wouldn't be with her if the thought hadn't crossed my mind.
"Dad how did you know mom was the one?"
"I just did. No one had ever lifted my heart the way she did." See what I mean about the men in my life being less than typical? Most men don't talk like that. "Do you think Lila is the one?"
"I don't know. I hope so. I really care about her, she makes me laugh so hard it hurts. Her smile makes me smile." What I didn't tell my dad was that I had fallen in love with her. Call me old fashioned, but I wanted her to be the one to hear it for the first time.
Love scares me. Being in love with Lila scares me. Opening up my heart again and putting myself in the most vulnerable place scares me. The biggest fear of all is not being with her. I don't want to be that guy who gets in his own way and misses out on what could be the most amazing thing ever.
When it comes to my job I have a strong level of confidence. I know how to fix, take apart, put back together or build from scratch virtually anything. It's a deep instinct I've always had with me. When it comes to women, especially this woman, I am a complete mess. Words become jumbled in my head and trust me when I say I have zero swagger. Add that to the fact that Lila is more sexually and romantically experienced then me...intimidation doesn't even begin to explain it.
But I wasn't nervous our first time like I thought I would be. We took a romantic trip away together; nothing fancy, just a weekend to Niagara Falls where neither of us have been before. I'll admit that I was hopeful it might happen although I wasn't expecting it. Lila and I had had many sleepovers just without the sex so naturally we shared a room with a king sized bed. That night started out like any other night between us: passionate kissing, above the clothes caressing, slowly peeling away the clothes. It felt so incredible to be so close to her, to feel her warm body pressed against mine. To taste her, to hold her, to be with her. It had never been like this with Sarah. At the risk of completely losing my man card, we made love that night. A few times actually. And in that moment our different life experiences didn't matter, it was just the two of us and nothing else mattered.
Afterwards as I watched her sleep I whispered into her hair, "I'm not afraid anymore."
Visiters
Parenthood
I will start this off with a disclaimer: I am not a parent, so I am by no means an expert on parenting. I do however have two wonderful parents and have played the role of keen observer during several years of babysitting, working day care, and being around family members and friends who are parents. I think what I do know pretty well is kids and being a former brat supreme, I know what tends to keep kids in line and what doesn’t. This is of course secluding any kids with certain medical or developmental disabilities. I’m not even going to address the degenerates that put their kids in microwave ovens or drown them in rivers, but rather the everyday folk we come across on the regular.
Growing up there was a rule in my house: running is for playgrounds an outdoors. Believe it or not this is not a unique rule as I have seen it applied in the majority of the households I have frequented throughout my life. But my upstairs neighbor who has his kids every other weekend apparently does not have this rule. So when his kids come over I hear the yelling, screaming, stomping of the feet, running, then crying when they fall down and hurt themselves (this happens several times) until all hours of the night. Nevermind that they shouldn’t be running in doors because they could fall and get hurt as they do, but it’s also an apartment and you need to be respectful of your neighbors. We ALL hear his kids. When I politely asked him if he could keep the noise down, he shrugged and said “They’re 3 and 5 years old, what am I supposed to do?” I bit my tongue and didn’t respond with the obvious answer “Be a parent!”
This whole running and screaming things applies in public places like restaurants. Countless times I see parents ignore their kids while they tend to the other adults at the table. The kids run around, jump in the seat, throw things at other tables, and scream. Maybe this is okay at a family restaurant like friendly’s but not a fancier sit down restaurant where two people easily pay $80 to eat….for like a special occasion. I have seen wait staff get knocked over, people end up with foreign objects at their table, and the funny thing is that if someone complains the parents have this great look of shock like “Not my precious angels.” It doesn’t have to be a restaurant: kids going the wrong way on escalators, kids knocking things off shelves and destroying merchandise at stores, kids throwing food at each other in the movie theatre, kids literally playing in traffic.
Then there’s the school thing. Not every kid is a natural genius, actually most aren’t myself included. The teacher provides a basic path, but then the parents need to continue the lesson at home. It’s so sad when you see a perfectly capable child not doing well in school because they are getting zero support at home. Some parents expect the teachers to do EVERYTHING and with a class of 29 other students, they can’t babsit your child every day all day.
Although I am currently not a parent, but someday hope to be, I can tell you that when I do have kids they will be a top priority. The following things are never more important than the well being of your child: you sex life, partying, going out drinking, shopping sprees, all nighters with your friends, overseas trips and vacations. There was a girl I worked with at my first job who constantly played the “It’s tough, I’m a single mother” card, but had n problem going out drinking with her girlfriends multiple nights a week. I saw her drop the kid off at baby daddies and then heard the “funny” drinking stories the next day at work. To be fair it’s not the kid hadn’t established his own sense of independence at age 3….she probably could have just left him at home by himself. Or this other girl I know that has a one year old and in the course of her daughter’s life is on boyfriend #2 or #3? She can’t pay for daycare, but told everyone about the expensive trip she took overseas recently for two weeks. Her daughter was left behind with grandma by the way.
There are some parents that a truly stellar. My good friend Jennessa has FOUR young kids. Are they perfect, no, but they’re damn good kids. This is a reflection of the parenting they receive. Like any kid they’re going to push boundaries, test limits, throw tantrums….but I have witnessed on too many occasions for it to be a coincidence that Jennessa and Brian throw down when they need to. They use this crazy thing called discipline. On the other hand you couldn’t find a more affectionate family who celebrates one another’s victories and comforts each other’s downfalls. These kids have manners, perform well in school, actually sit down and eat their food as oppose to flinging it at others, and are huggers! I have officially told J & B that when I have kids someday I would like to mentor under them.
My parents both worked full time jobs that required a 45 minute commute into the city each day. They were school teachers who dealt with other kids all day long, yet they always had time for me and my brother. Both my parents made home cooked meals, helped us with our homework, and showed up to support our extra curricular. I have no freakin clue how they managed to do this all in the same 24 hours the rest of us work with, but they did. They were firm and loving depending on what the situation called for.
Parenting is the most thankless job out there or so I am told. But there is this entire other being who looks up to you for guidance, support, values and you need to do right by them. It doesn’t take a village to raise a child, it takes a parent.
Growing up there was a rule in my house: running is for playgrounds an outdoors. Believe it or not this is not a unique rule as I have seen it applied in the majority of the households I have frequented throughout my life. But my upstairs neighbor who has his kids every other weekend apparently does not have this rule. So when his kids come over I hear the yelling, screaming, stomping of the feet, running, then crying when they fall down and hurt themselves (this happens several times) until all hours of the night. Nevermind that they shouldn’t be running in doors because they could fall and get hurt as they do, but it’s also an apartment and you need to be respectful of your neighbors. We ALL hear his kids. When I politely asked him if he could keep the noise down, he shrugged and said “They’re 3 and 5 years old, what am I supposed to do?” I bit my tongue and didn’t respond with the obvious answer “Be a parent!”
This whole running and screaming things applies in public places like restaurants. Countless times I see parents ignore their kids while they tend to the other adults at the table. The kids run around, jump in the seat, throw things at other tables, and scream. Maybe this is okay at a family restaurant like friendly’s but not a fancier sit down restaurant where two people easily pay $80 to eat….for like a special occasion. I have seen wait staff get knocked over, people end up with foreign objects at their table, and the funny thing is that if someone complains the parents have this great look of shock like “Not my precious angels.” It doesn’t have to be a restaurant: kids going the wrong way on escalators, kids knocking things off shelves and destroying merchandise at stores, kids throwing food at each other in the movie theatre, kids literally playing in traffic.
Then there’s the school thing. Not every kid is a natural genius, actually most aren’t myself included. The teacher provides a basic path, but then the parents need to continue the lesson at home. It’s so sad when you see a perfectly capable child not doing well in school because they are getting zero support at home. Some parents expect the teachers to do EVERYTHING and with a class of 29 other students, they can’t babsit your child every day all day.
Although I am currently not a parent, but someday hope to be, I can tell you that when I do have kids they will be a top priority. The following things are never more important than the well being of your child: you sex life, partying, going out drinking, shopping sprees, all nighters with your friends, overseas trips and vacations. There was a girl I worked with at my first job who constantly played the “It’s tough, I’m a single mother” card, but had n problem going out drinking with her girlfriends multiple nights a week. I saw her drop the kid off at baby daddies and then heard the “funny” drinking stories the next day at work. To be fair it’s not the kid hadn’t established his own sense of independence at age 3….she probably could have just left him at home by himself. Or this other girl I know that has a one year old and in the course of her daughter’s life is on boyfriend #2 or #3? She can’t pay for daycare, but told everyone about the expensive trip she took overseas recently for two weeks. Her daughter was left behind with grandma by the way.
There are some parents that a truly stellar. My good friend Jennessa has FOUR young kids. Are they perfect, no, but they’re damn good kids. This is a reflection of the parenting they receive. Like any kid they’re going to push boundaries, test limits, throw tantrums….but I have witnessed on too many occasions for it to be a coincidence that Jennessa and Brian throw down when they need to. They use this crazy thing called discipline. On the other hand you couldn’t find a more affectionate family who celebrates one another’s victories and comforts each other’s downfalls. These kids have manners, perform well in school, actually sit down and eat their food as oppose to flinging it at others, and are huggers! I have officially told J & B that when I have kids someday I would like to mentor under them.
My parents both worked full time jobs that required a 45 minute commute into the city each day. They were school teachers who dealt with other kids all day long, yet they always had time for me and my brother. Both my parents made home cooked meals, helped us with our homework, and showed up to support our extra curricular. I have no freakin clue how they managed to do this all in the same 24 hours the rest of us work with, but they did. They were firm and loving depending on what the situation called for.
Parenting is the most thankless job out there or so I am told. But there is this entire other being who looks up to you for guidance, support, values and you need to do right by them. It doesn’t take a village to raise a child, it takes a parent.
Caleb's Story
****Continuation of the fictional series****
The first thing you need to know about me is that family is number one; not just the family I was born into but the family I created with my close friends. Each of them helped put a piece of the puzzle together for the person I would eventually become. Standing out above all others was my father because it was him who taught me the craft I would dedicate my life to; ever since I was a child I followed him around like his shadow assisting him with household projects until I could do them on my own. By the time I was eighteen I was well versed in electrical, plumbing, woodworking, and all other things I could create with my hands. It was also my father who taught me how to be a man. Being a man comes down to one thing and that one thing is integrity.
My parents have a great relationship. They're loving, respectful, and honest with one another. Nothing is perfect and neither are they but they work at it every day. Small romantic gestures, lots of affection, and putting their children above all else are the rules they live by. I knew someday when I found that special girl, that I wanted what my parents have with each other.
All my friends constantly teased me about being a late bloomer. While everyone started some form of dating in middle school I stuck to sports and home life. Don't get me wrong, I liked girls, but I was real shy. Reid always knew what to say or how to act around them and even tried to teach me some things. What can I say? You can't teach a frog to soar like an eagle. Most school dances I was the tag-along amongst all my friends who had a date. And I was okay with that.
Believe it or not my first girlfriend happened when I was nineteen. I was already working as a subcontractor for a small local company when the boss's daughter came by with a bunch of her friends. Sarah caught my eye. Most guys wouldn't have noticed Sarah; she wasn't the prettiest, the tallest, the thinnest, but she was my kind of girl. Growing up in Italian family I learned to value women who looked like women and not like fourteen year old little boys. A real woman to me has meat: thighs, butt, breasts, stomach. That's sexy! I'm also drawn to darker features once again probably an Italian thing.
At nineteen I got to experience what most of my friends had experienced at thirteen, the joys and pitfalls of first love. Of course I thought she was the one. Of course I was blind to the blatant red flags that everyone else saw and tried to warn me about. Of course I was a complete idiot. Everything that could have turned ugly did.
Sarah was a blatant bitch to me. She had a brilliant way of giving me back handed insults. None of my friends liked her, my family didn't like her but at the time I didn't care because I was so smitten. She had a way of reeling you in and keeping you in her grasp. A master manipulator. I was there whenever she called or texted trying desperately to make her happy. Somehow my efforts always came up short. People thing it's women who always get the brunt end of a bad relationship, that's just not true.
She even came on to a few of my friends and my happily married brother right in front of me. I chalked it up to her just being flirty. She explained that I had jealousy, insecurity issues that I needed to deal with. I was new to this whole dating world and figured she was right. We weren't married, so why limit ourselves? That's what she said although it didn't feel quite right to me, but I didn't want to lose her so I just kept quiet. Sarah stood me up when we had plans. I always paid for everything, she never offered even once. I lent her my car to run a quick errand and then didn't hear from her for two days. By no means am I a square but that girl was a certified pot head, something like six times a day...
One of the things that hurt the most was how she reacted when I got the house. My good friend Tyler is in real estate and found me this old re-possessed house that I could buy for cash real cheap. The problem was it would need a lot of work, but that was what I did so this seemed like a dream. Since I didn't go off to college like my older brother and sister, my college fund had remained untouched and I used some of it to buy this house. I would use the rest of the money to invest in fixing it up. I saw this house for not what it was but what it could be. The idea was that once it was all done Sarah and I could move into it to start our lives together.
I took her on a tour of the house explaining all the plans I had for it. She looked utterly disgusted and even suggested I just sell the house to buy us a nice condo instead. This was a double edged sword, I was happy she wanted to live with me but hurt that she didn't want to do it in this house.
"Fixing up this house is going to take a couple of years." I tried to explain to her.
She rolled her eyes, "Well I don't think I can wait that long. I want a condo now. Can't you just buy a condo now? You still have all that money?"
"You know if we lived together you'd have to help out with the cost too?"
"Why? I thought you were a man. A real man takes care of his woman."
I know you're thinking that should have been the end of us, however it took one near catastrophic event for that to happen. That would be the STD. I'm not getting into any gory details here. What you need to know is that Sarah was the only girl I had been with intimately and what I contracted from her was 100% fixable by antibiotics. The sad thing is that she left me. She told me I was boring and she had found something much better. Our entire tryst lasted three years. Three years of me loving someone who never loved me back. Another part of being a man is admitting when you're hurting. Women don't own the market on heartbreak.
The best thing for me was to throw myself into that house. The majority of my spare time was spent renovating my dream home. Fortunately I had a lot of connections in the area to know where to get good deals on the supplies I needed. I also had family and friends willing to help me out. Maybe this won't make sense to you but I felt like this house gave me a sense of purpose. This house would never cheat on me or break my heart. And I had other forms of love in my life, just not the romantic kind. Secondly without Sarah on my life I was better able to focus on my work. I went from being part of a small local contracting company to getting the head foreman position at a major union contracting company.
Don't think I was a hermit. I dated here and there. I even had my experience of casual sex. But there was no depth, no real connection with the girls I dealt with. It was probably my fault, I just wasn't that into it. How do you learn to trust again? How do you know someone isn't playing you? You don't and to me the risk just wasn't worth it.
One night my friends had an intervention. Most of them happily paired off and wanting me to find the happiness that each of them had. Perry had taken it upon himself to sign me up for a bowling event through some friend making internet site.
Perry pleaded, "You need to meet new people. All you do is hang with us and work on the house."
I got defensive, "What's wrong with that?"
It was Tyler's turn, "It's been almost eight years since Sarah. Maybe you could meet a nice girl or even just make some new friends. Get yourself out there."
Reluctantly I agreed. Bowling used to be one of my favorite past times when I was a kid. No expectations, just go to have a good time. The day of the bowling event I got there real early. Punctuality: gift or curse? I didn't see anyone and had never been to this alley before. There was a girl, no a woman, a beautiful woman sitting by herself waiting for the group. She had the deepest brown eyes I had ever seen, dark curly hair, fair skin, and this sexy voluptuous body. Most of all I wanted to know what her smile was like. You can tell so much about a person by their smile.
I sat a few seats next to her and avoided eye contact because I was so nervous. I knew I should say something, anything. Comment on the weather? No, that was lame. Although what I said was equally lame, "Do you bowl?" Of course she bowled. Why else would she be here?
She looked over at me, "Yes, but not well. I specialize in guttering. Do you think they'll give us bumpers? It really helps my self esteem."
I laughed while catching her smile. It was warm, friendly, and honest. There was only one other person who had a smile like that and that would be my mother. If you know anything about us Italian boys then you know we are always looking for a girl like our mother. Something about her seemed different although I had no idea what. But I was intrigued enough to find out. Her name is Lila.
The first thing you need to know about me is that family is number one; not just the family I was born into but the family I created with my close friends. Each of them helped put a piece of the puzzle together for the person I would eventually become. Standing out above all others was my father because it was him who taught me the craft I would dedicate my life to; ever since I was a child I followed him around like his shadow assisting him with household projects until I could do them on my own. By the time I was eighteen I was well versed in electrical, plumbing, woodworking, and all other things I could create with my hands. It was also my father who taught me how to be a man. Being a man comes down to one thing and that one thing is integrity.
My parents have a great relationship. They're loving, respectful, and honest with one another. Nothing is perfect and neither are they but they work at it every day. Small romantic gestures, lots of affection, and putting their children above all else are the rules they live by. I knew someday when I found that special girl, that I wanted what my parents have with each other.
All my friends constantly teased me about being a late bloomer. While everyone started some form of dating in middle school I stuck to sports and home life. Don't get me wrong, I liked girls, but I was real shy. Reid always knew what to say or how to act around them and even tried to teach me some things. What can I say? You can't teach a frog to soar like an eagle. Most school dances I was the tag-along amongst all my friends who had a date. And I was okay with that.
Believe it or not my first girlfriend happened when I was nineteen. I was already working as a subcontractor for a small local company when the boss's daughter came by with a bunch of her friends. Sarah caught my eye. Most guys wouldn't have noticed Sarah; she wasn't the prettiest, the tallest, the thinnest, but she was my kind of girl. Growing up in Italian family I learned to value women who looked like women and not like fourteen year old little boys. A real woman to me has meat: thighs, butt, breasts, stomach. That's sexy! I'm also drawn to darker features once again probably an Italian thing.
At nineteen I got to experience what most of my friends had experienced at thirteen, the joys and pitfalls of first love. Of course I thought she was the one. Of course I was blind to the blatant red flags that everyone else saw and tried to warn me about. Of course I was a complete idiot. Everything that could have turned ugly did.
Sarah was a blatant bitch to me. She had a brilliant way of giving me back handed insults. None of my friends liked her, my family didn't like her but at the time I didn't care because I was so smitten. She had a way of reeling you in and keeping you in her grasp. A master manipulator. I was there whenever she called or texted trying desperately to make her happy. Somehow my efforts always came up short. People thing it's women who always get the brunt end of a bad relationship, that's just not true.
She even came on to a few of my friends and my happily married brother right in front of me. I chalked it up to her just being flirty. She explained that I had jealousy, insecurity issues that I needed to deal with. I was new to this whole dating world and figured she was right. We weren't married, so why limit ourselves? That's what she said although it didn't feel quite right to me, but I didn't want to lose her so I just kept quiet. Sarah stood me up when we had plans. I always paid for everything, she never offered even once. I lent her my car to run a quick errand and then didn't hear from her for two days. By no means am I a square but that girl was a certified pot head, something like six times a day...
One of the things that hurt the most was how she reacted when I got the house. My good friend Tyler is in real estate and found me this old re-possessed house that I could buy for cash real cheap. The problem was it would need a lot of work, but that was what I did so this seemed like a dream. Since I didn't go off to college like my older brother and sister, my college fund had remained untouched and I used some of it to buy this house. I would use the rest of the money to invest in fixing it up. I saw this house for not what it was but what it could be. The idea was that once it was all done Sarah and I could move into it to start our lives together.
I took her on a tour of the house explaining all the plans I had for it. She looked utterly disgusted and even suggested I just sell the house to buy us a nice condo instead. This was a double edged sword, I was happy she wanted to live with me but hurt that she didn't want to do it in this house.
"Fixing up this house is going to take a couple of years." I tried to explain to her.
She rolled her eyes, "Well I don't think I can wait that long. I want a condo now. Can't you just buy a condo now? You still have all that money?"
"You know if we lived together you'd have to help out with the cost too?"
"Why? I thought you were a man. A real man takes care of his woman."
I know you're thinking that should have been the end of us, however it took one near catastrophic event for that to happen. That would be the STD. I'm not getting into any gory details here. What you need to know is that Sarah was the only girl I had been with intimately and what I contracted from her was 100% fixable by antibiotics. The sad thing is that she left me. She told me I was boring and she had found something much better. Our entire tryst lasted three years. Three years of me loving someone who never loved me back. Another part of being a man is admitting when you're hurting. Women don't own the market on heartbreak.
The best thing for me was to throw myself into that house. The majority of my spare time was spent renovating my dream home. Fortunately I had a lot of connections in the area to know where to get good deals on the supplies I needed. I also had family and friends willing to help me out. Maybe this won't make sense to you but I felt like this house gave me a sense of purpose. This house would never cheat on me or break my heart. And I had other forms of love in my life, just not the romantic kind. Secondly without Sarah on my life I was better able to focus on my work. I went from being part of a small local contracting company to getting the head foreman position at a major union contracting company.
Don't think I was a hermit. I dated here and there. I even had my experience of casual sex. But there was no depth, no real connection with the girls I dealt with. It was probably my fault, I just wasn't that into it. How do you learn to trust again? How do you know someone isn't playing you? You don't and to me the risk just wasn't worth it.
One night my friends had an intervention. Most of them happily paired off and wanting me to find the happiness that each of them had. Perry had taken it upon himself to sign me up for a bowling event through some friend making internet site.
Perry pleaded, "You need to meet new people. All you do is hang with us and work on the house."
I got defensive, "What's wrong with that?"
It was Tyler's turn, "It's been almost eight years since Sarah. Maybe you could meet a nice girl or even just make some new friends. Get yourself out there."
Reluctantly I agreed. Bowling used to be one of my favorite past times when I was a kid. No expectations, just go to have a good time. The day of the bowling event I got there real early. Punctuality: gift or curse? I didn't see anyone and had never been to this alley before. There was a girl, no a woman, a beautiful woman sitting by herself waiting for the group. She had the deepest brown eyes I had ever seen, dark curly hair, fair skin, and this sexy voluptuous body. Most of all I wanted to know what her smile was like. You can tell so much about a person by their smile.
I sat a few seats next to her and avoided eye contact because I was so nervous. I knew I should say something, anything. Comment on the weather? No, that was lame. Although what I said was equally lame, "Do you bowl?" Of course she bowled. Why else would she be here?
She looked over at me, "Yes, but not well. I specialize in guttering. Do you think they'll give us bumpers? It really helps my self esteem."
I laughed while catching her smile. It was warm, friendly, and honest. There was only one other person who had a smile like that and that would be my mother. If you know anything about us Italian boys then you know we are always looking for a girl like our mother. Something about her seemed different although I had no idea what. But I was intrigued enough to find out. Her name is Lila.
How Friendship Works
****Some names and details have been changed to protect the not-so innocent****
I guess I need to start this by saying I need to take a long hard look at myself and the things I do to contribute to the things that happen to me. Not only do I jump head first into romantic relationships, but I do this with friendships too. Lasting relationships of any type take time to culminate; I know this yet my impatience or eagerness almost always get the best of me. This is an issue with me and NOT the other people. I accept this.
One of the major problems with rushing into things with someone before you really get to know them is that almost every time you'll end up getting hurt. I let my guard down way too easily, especially when I out of all people should know better, and give away trust without letting a person earn it first. Then I'm surprised when they do something shiesty to me.
Another thing I need to work on is placing my values on other people. Just because I would act a certain way during a certain situation doesn't mean others would. We are all different people with different backgrounds and different values and different opinions. Just because I have been there for someone in their time of need doesn't mean they would do the same for me when my time comes. Maybe my expectations of others are too high, too unrealistic.
Despite the fact that I am deeply flawed person, underneath it all I think I'm a good person. I have a huge heart that I wear on my sleeve like an idiot. I know I can be difficult to deal with for various reasons I don't need to list cause anyone who knows me knows the reasons, but I just want what everyone wants and that's to be loved. I want to be accepted for who I am, flaws and all. But my intensity scares away 9/10 people, so the ones that do stick around must be nothing short of angels.
I need to learn to be more patient, more compassionate, and more accepting of others. I should also apply these things to how I treat myself. Obviously I still have a lot of work to do in the self love department as well.
I guess I need to start this by saying I need to take a long hard look at myself and the things I do to contribute to the things that happen to me. Not only do I jump head first into romantic relationships, but I do this with friendships too. Lasting relationships of any type take time to culminate; I know this yet my impatience or eagerness almost always get the best of me. This is an issue with me and NOT the other people. I accept this.
One of the major problems with rushing into things with someone before you really get to know them is that almost every time you'll end up getting hurt. I let my guard down way too easily, especially when I out of all people should know better, and give away trust without letting a person earn it first. Then I'm surprised when they do something shiesty to me.
Another thing I need to work on is placing my values on other people. Just because I would act a certain way during a certain situation doesn't mean others would. We are all different people with different backgrounds and different values and different opinions. Just because I have been there for someone in their time of need doesn't mean they would do the same for me when my time comes. Maybe my expectations of others are too high, too unrealistic.
Despite the fact that I am deeply flawed person, underneath it all I think I'm a good person. I have a huge heart that I wear on my sleeve like an idiot. I know I can be difficult to deal with for various reasons I don't need to list cause anyone who knows me knows the reasons, but I just want what everyone wants and that's to be loved. I want to be accepted for who I am, flaws and all. But my intensity scares away 9/10 people, so the ones that do stick around must be nothing short of angels.
I need to learn to be more patient, more compassionate, and more accepting of others. I should also apply these things to how I treat myself. Obviously I still have a lot of work to do in the self love department as well.
A Discussion Among Friends
****Continued fiction series****
Reid walked into game night at Tyler and Katie's house solo. He was a modern day player with a corral of women to play with. However intimate nights with friends were not a situation he liked to "bring his hoes to." As he expalined to me once, they start getting stupid ideas like they're a couple as opposed to just fuck buddies. Why complicate things? Sex and friendships exist on different planes.
We were all drinking a littl, enjoying some chips and dip, and good conversation. Reid was telling us about his latest conquest. "She's a freak. She wants it all the time, any way she can get it, and anywhere we are. If I could fall in love, it would be with someone like her."
Caleb shook his head, "Why would you even want to be with someone like that?"
As a sexually liberated female I was offended by Caleb's reaction. We had only been dating a few weeks and things were still very PG between us, but still. WTF?! I turned to him, "Someone like that?!"
Caleb addressed the room rather than me, "I'm old school and think a lady should be a lady. What's with all the casual sex these days? Don't people value intimacy anymore?"
Reid laughed, "The things I do are very intimate. I have pictures if you'd like a visual."
Perry spoke up, "Is it old school or sexist? Join the rest of us in the twenty-first century Caleb. Reid is on the same level as these girls. Either they're all sluts or none of them are. You can't have it both ways."
Reed stood up, "It's cool. I'm a slut and damn proud of it."
Katie, "People have sex for all different reasons. Sometimes it's for validation or cause they're lonely. Other times they think they can find love through sex which hardly ever works."
"And sometimes they're horny little freaks like Reid", Tyler hit Reid in the arm. We all laughed.
I thought about the reasons I had made some of the sexual decisions I had, specifically the dumb ones. It's true I was mostly looking for validation; if a guy wanted to sleep with me then it meant I was somehow worthy of his affections. But then again maybe it didn't. Maybe I was just a warm body serving a purpose like all the girls Reid delt with. What if Caleb thought I was "someone like that"?
As if reading my mind Caleb looked at me. "I just don't understand why a strong, smart, beautiful woman wouldn't value herself enough to know that any man she were to be with should prove himself worthy before she gives him the opportunity to be with her."
"Yeah but if every girl realized that then Reid would never get laid", Tyler announced.
Reid smirked, "Don't worry about me, I always find a way to feed my hunger."
As Caleb drove me home later that night I was still irked by what appeared to be his conservative attitude about sex. We hadn't even had "the talk" one on one yet, but now I felt it was the right time. I needed to know where he stook on all of this and how it would affect our relationship.
I put my hand on his arm, "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Is it Reid? That guy is a complete nut, but I love him like a brother."
"Kind of. There are some colorful things you don't know about my past."
He pulled the car over to the side of the road, took a deep breath, and compeletly wide-eyed asked, "Did something happen with you and Reid?"
"Oh god no. But I have been with guys like him, a lot of guys like him. Basically I've been with a lot of guys."
He thought for a moment before responding. "You know what? It doesn't matter. Right now I'm the guy you're with, the only guy you're with, and who we slept with in the past shouldn't affect who we sleep with today."
"So you want to sleep with me like right now? Your back seat does look inviting." I wink at him.
He softly kisses my lips. "I've wanted you since the moment I first saw you. I just don't think we're there yet. Do you?"
"Would I mind ripping off your clothes while we're parked on the side of the highway and having my way with you? Not at all, but yeah I think we need more time."
He looked at me, then pulled back onto the road. "Great! Now I have to concetrate on driving after you put a very enticing thought in my head. Thanks."
Reid walked into game night at Tyler and Katie's house solo. He was a modern day player with a corral of women to play with. However intimate nights with friends were not a situation he liked to "bring his hoes to." As he expalined to me once, they start getting stupid ideas like they're a couple as opposed to just fuck buddies. Why complicate things? Sex and friendships exist on different planes.
We were all drinking a littl, enjoying some chips and dip, and good conversation. Reid was telling us about his latest conquest. "She's a freak. She wants it all the time, any way she can get it, and anywhere we are. If I could fall in love, it would be with someone like her."
Caleb shook his head, "Why would you even want to be with someone like that?"
As a sexually liberated female I was offended by Caleb's reaction. We had only been dating a few weeks and things were still very PG between us, but still. WTF?! I turned to him, "Someone like that?!"
Caleb addressed the room rather than me, "I'm old school and think a lady should be a lady. What's with all the casual sex these days? Don't people value intimacy anymore?"
Reid laughed, "The things I do are very intimate. I have pictures if you'd like a visual."
Perry spoke up, "Is it old school or sexist? Join the rest of us in the twenty-first century Caleb. Reid is on the same level as these girls. Either they're all sluts or none of them are. You can't have it both ways."
Reed stood up, "It's cool. I'm a slut and damn proud of it."
Katie, "People have sex for all different reasons. Sometimes it's for validation or cause they're lonely. Other times they think they can find love through sex which hardly ever works."
"And sometimes they're horny little freaks like Reid", Tyler hit Reid in the arm. We all laughed.
I thought about the reasons I had made some of the sexual decisions I had, specifically the dumb ones. It's true I was mostly looking for validation; if a guy wanted to sleep with me then it meant I was somehow worthy of his affections. But then again maybe it didn't. Maybe I was just a warm body serving a purpose like all the girls Reid delt with. What if Caleb thought I was "someone like that"?
As if reading my mind Caleb looked at me. "I just don't understand why a strong, smart, beautiful woman wouldn't value herself enough to know that any man she were to be with should prove himself worthy before she gives him the opportunity to be with her."
"Yeah but if every girl realized that then Reid would never get laid", Tyler announced.
Reid smirked, "Don't worry about me, I always find a way to feed my hunger."
As Caleb drove me home later that night I was still irked by what appeared to be his conservative attitude about sex. We hadn't even had "the talk" one on one yet, but now I felt it was the right time. I needed to know where he stook on all of this and how it would affect our relationship.
I put my hand on his arm, "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Is it Reid? That guy is a complete nut, but I love him like a brother."
"Kind of. There are some colorful things you don't know about my past."
He pulled the car over to the side of the road, took a deep breath, and compeletly wide-eyed asked, "Did something happen with you and Reid?"
"Oh god no. But I have been with guys like him, a lot of guys like him. Basically I've been with a lot of guys."
He thought for a moment before responding. "You know what? It doesn't matter. Right now I'm the guy you're with, the only guy you're with, and who we slept with in the past shouldn't affect who we sleep with today."
"So you want to sleep with me like right now? Your back seat does look inviting." I wink at him.
He softly kisses my lips. "I've wanted you since the moment I first saw you. I just don't think we're there yet. Do you?"
"Would I mind ripping off your clothes while we're parked on the side of the highway and having my way with you? Not at all, but yeah I think we need more time."
He looked at me, then pulled back onto the road. "Great! Now I have to concetrate on driving after you put a very enticing thought in my head. Thanks."
What Changed Everything
****Another work of fiction. Thinking of starting a small series based on yesterdays blog, thanks for the encouragement Mugdha****
Those who know me, know me as medical mishap girl. Every since early childhood I have been that person who contracts every weird virus known to man. Okay well not quite that extreme. But I've missed tons of school, work, and been hospitalized more times than I care to remember. Overall, according to my various doctors, I'm in pretty good health so figure that out? I'm the healthiest sick person you'll ever meet.
It was shortly after the start of the new year and Caleb was over helping me take down my Christmas crap or for you Martha Stewart types "Christmas Decor". I was on the step ladder removing the ornaments from my fabulously fake tree then handing them to Caleb who placed them in a box. Suddenly the tree and the ornaments became blurry to me. Who knows what would have happened if Caleb hadn't been standing right next to me, but I fell off the step ladder and he caught me. The rest came to me in bits and pieces: Caleb carrying me out to his truck, the nurse asking for my insurance card, Caleb on his cell phone, and then I passed out completely.
When I woke up I was in the ER with an IV tube running from my right arm and Caleb's hand on my left arm. My lips were parched, "What happened?"
His face lit up when he saw I was awake, "They think it was a virus, but they're still running tests. How are you feeling?"
"I have to call my parents."
"Already done. I also called Rita to let her know you wouldn't be making her movie night tonight. How are you feeling?"
I glanced over at the clock on the wall, it was nearly one in the morning. "Have you been here the whole time?"
Caleb sighed, "Yes. Please tell me how you're feeling."
"Tired, hungry, and grateful that I'm not going through this alone."
He had been asking me to give him a chance romantically for about two months now. I had been refusing him for two months, my fear holding strong. But how could I refuse him after he nursed me back to health? Literally...after I got home from the hospital he picked up my meds from the pharmacy, tucked me into bed, and prepared me approved meals based on my dietary restrictions from the ER docs. Essentially everything short of a sponge bath. Finally I felt something I never felt with a man before and that was trust.
Caleb served me some family recipe fix-it-all soup. As he handed it to me our eyes locked, then he blushed and turned away taking a seat in the chair next to my bed. He looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back. That wasn't like him, we talked about everything. There was a sense of ease we had with one another that usually took years to develop yet we had managed to create it in mere months.
He cleared his throat, "I'm glad you're feeling better."
"I think we should date."
"Maybe you're not feeling better?"
We both laughed. "When I'm up and running again, well we know I don't run, so when I'm briskly walking again we should go for it."
He looked apprehensive and didn't say anything. Shit, had he changed his mind? Not that I was a vision of glamore or anything when I was well, but I hadn't considered just how crappy I probably looked. Oooh I probably didn't smell like fresh lilies either. Did I expect him to wait around forever? I mean how much rejection can one person take? Clearly I misread all his kindness for something more than the affections of a good friend.
I looked down at my soup, "Sorry I shouldn't have assumed, it's okay."
"No, no you have it all wrong. I've been waiting for this, I just didn't picture the moment quite like this, you know? I think I had finally accepted that it wouldn't happen and I was happy having you in my life as a friend than as nothing at all. Now I'm scared I'll fuck everything up."
"That makes two of us."
The first date happened two weeks later. Both of us with our mediocre cooking skills prepared a meal together at Caleb's house then ate picnic style on the floor. Dinner was followed by a cut throat game of Connect Four. Then we slept together. No you perverts, no sex! We just fell asleep in each other's arms fully clothed. I am pleased to report he is a first class cuddler and does not snore.
My fear hasn't completely gone away, it's just that now I'm at a point where I am ready to face it.
Those who know me, know me as medical mishap girl. Every since early childhood I have been that person who contracts every weird virus known to man. Okay well not quite that extreme. But I've missed tons of school, work, and been hospitalized more times than I care to remember. Overall, according to my various doctors, I'm in pretty good health so figure that out? I'm the healthiest sick person you'll ever meet.
It was shortly after the start of the new year and Caleb was over helping me take down my Christmas crap or for you Martha Stewart types "Christmas Decor". I was on the step ladder removing the ornaments from my fabulously fake tree then handing them to Caleb who placed them in a box. Suddenly the tree and the ornaments became blurry to me. Who knows what would have happened if Caleb hadn't been standing right next to me, but I fell off the step ladder and he caught me. The rest came to me in bits and pieces: Caleb carrying me out to his truck, the nurse asking for my insurance card, Caleb on his cell phone, and then I passed out completely.
When I woke up I was in the ER with an IV tube running from my right arm and Caleb's hand on my left arm. My lips were parched, "What happened?"
His face lit up when he saw I was awake, "They think it was a virus, but they're still running tests. How are you feeling?"
"I have to call my parents."
"Already done. I also called Rita to let her know you wouldn't be making her movie night tonight. How are you feeling?"
I glanced over at the clock on the wall, it was nearly one in the morning. "Have you been here the whole time?"
Caleb sighed, "Yes. Please tell me how you're feeling."
"Tired, hungry, and grateful that I'm not going through this alone."
He had been asking me to give him a chance romantically for about two months now. I had been refusing him for two months, my fear holding strong. But how could I refuse him after he nursed me back to health? Literally...after I got home from the hospital he picked up my meds from the pharmacy, tucked me into bed, and prepared me approved meals based on my dietary restrictions from the ER docs. Essentially everything short of a sponge bath. Finally I felt something I never felt with a man before and that was trust.
Caleb served me some family recipe fix-it-all soup. As he handed it to me our eyes locked, then he blushed and turned away taking a seat in the chair next to my bed. He looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back. That wasn't like him, we talked about everything. There was a sense of ease we had with one another that usually took years to develop yet we had managed to create it in mere months.
He cleared his throat, "I'm glad you're feeling better."
"I think we should date."
"Maybe you're not feeling better?"
We both laughed. "When I'm up and running again, well we know I don't run, so when I'm briskly walking again we should go for it."
He looked apprehensive and didn't say anything. Shit, had he changed his mind? Not that I was a vision of glamore or anything when I was well, but I hadn't considered just how crappy I probably looked. Oooh I probably didn't smell like fresh lilies either. Did I expect him to wait around forever? I mean how much rejection can one person take? Clearly I misread all his kindness for something more than the affections of a good friend.
I looked down at my soup, "Sorry I shouldn't have assumed, it's okay."
"No, no you have it all wrong. I've been waiting for this, I just didn't picture the moment quite like this, you know? I think I had finally accepted that it wouldn't happen and I was happy having you in my life as a friend than as nothing at all. Now I'm scared I'll fuck everything up."
"That makes two of us."
The first date happened two weeks later. Both of us with our mediocre cooking skills prepared a meal together at Caleb's house then ate picnic style on the floor. Dinner was followed by a cut throat game of Connect Four. Then we slept together. No you perverts, no sex! We just fell asleep in each other's arms fully clothed. I am pleased to report he is a first class cuddler and does not snore.
My fear hasn't completely gone away, it's just that now I'm at a point where I am ready to face it.
The Great Unknown
****This is a work of fiction*****
I walked out of my kitchen holding two mugs of hot chocolate, the good kind with the tiny marshmellows, and spotted Caleb on the couch staring out the window. I studied his features: olive complexion, strong jaw line, wavy dark hair just shy of needing another trim, glasses perched up on his square nose, hazel eyes, and that large muscular frame from years of working in construction. Hard to believe he had no clue just how good looking he was despite the constant glares he got from women everywhere he went. A late bloomer his friends called him, didn't grow into himself until he was almost twenty years old and now ten years later still identified more with who he was then who he is.
He looked over at me as his face broke into a boyish grin, "Mmmmm, hot chocolate always makes me feel like a little kid. Thank you."
I plopped down across from him on the opposite end of the couch. A girl with a constant fat complex felt so tiny next to this big hulking man; after all I'm only 5'2''. "It really feels like winter now. Christmas decorations are up, I have to pre-heat my car each morning, and I sleep in layers of clothing."
"Lila you should come spend the holidays with my family. We do this thing every year with a Secret Santa exchange, a huge feast my mom and aunts make, playing board games by the fireplace, and then we wrap things up with some classic holiday movies until everyone passes out. No one should be alone on Christmas, not even a stubborn brat like you." He playfully hits my leg.
"Stubborn brat?"
He shrugs, "Yeah, well you still won't go out with me."
How can I explain this? Caleb is amazing in pretty much every possible way. We met about three months ago at a bowling event I found on this internet social site. It was my lame attempt to make some more local friends and revamp my social life. Now there are two sides to Lila: social butterfly or social retard. The trick is I never know which side will come out until I'm knee deep in the actual situation. Well that day I was the social retard. Of course I was one of the first to arrive and after I signed in I just sat there awkwardly awaiting others.
Caleb was the second to arrive. It was easy to spot that he was a first timer as well with the deer in headlights look as if he had never seen the inside of a bowling alley before. He signed in and the tween behind the desk pointed to me, "She's part of that group too." He chose a chair a few seats away from me. After a couple of minutes, with a slight stutter and avoiding eye contact he asked me, "Do you bowl?"
Um, why the hell would I be here if I didn't? Now Lila this is to make new friends, best to tame the inner sarcastic bitch for now. I turned towards him, "Yes, but not well. I specialize in guttering. Do you think they'll give us bumpers? It really helps my self esteem." He laughed, then introduced himself. Ladies and gentleman a friendship was born.
Obviously we facebooked eachother cause that's what all the kids do these days. Facebook led to texting and texting led to phone calls and phone calls led to some face to face hangouts. We started our own two person book club, friday night movie get-to-gethers either in the theatre if something good we both wanted to see was out or at my house for a DVD (I'll explain why we couldn't do it at his place later on), and then there were the game nights his friends hosted bi-weekly that I became a part of. He had the same close group of friends since childhood, an eclectic group that all still lived locally. That bowling thing we met at was his attempt to branch out.
We had so much in common. One key thing was how close we were to our families especially our parents. His family lived about twenty minutes from him while mine was in another part of the country; hence the Christmas invite. We could talk for hours about nothing in particular until our voices got sore or it was too late on a work night. Something tragic we had in common was that we had both had had our hearts broken. His was a first love in his early twenties, mine was a marriage gone wrong. And then there were the little things: animal lovers, sarcastic dry sense of humor, taste in movies, neat/clean freaks, believed cheese is the ultimate food and enhances all other foods, and very physically affectionate with our friends and family.
He was smart, trustworthy, easy to talk to, loyal, caring, and there was the house thing. Caleb never wanted to hang out at his house which seemed kind of eery to me. After about two months of hanging out he told me he had a surprise for me. He texted me an address to meet him at after work on an idle Tuesday. As I pulled up to this beautiful old colonial I wondered if this was how those dumb white girls got killed in those horror movies. I was big chested, but was most definitely NOT a virgin so it could really go either way.
Caleb came out the front door with that boyish grin and waved me inside. This was his house, not a home as he explained because it had no personal touches. There was no furniture unless you count a mattress on the floor in the living room and a small desk for his laptop. It was beautiful though, completely renovated as far as I could tell. Original wood floors rebuffed, brand new appliances in the kitchen, thermal double paned windows, new siding, zoned-central heating system, upgraded insulation, original columns, crowned molding...but no furniture. When I teased him about this he explained he was waiting for his future wife to help him turn the house into a home. Please locate a mop to clean up the puddle I turned into after he told me that.
He was essentially everything I could want in a man. If I was to be completely honest here, I know you expect nothing less from me, I was falling in love with him. And I know this is going to sound like a lame break-up line, but it was me and not him.
Okay, back to the present. Hot guy on my couch. "Caleb, you know I think you're wonderful..."
"But?"
"But I don't want to ruin what we have."
There was more to it than that, but I wasn't willing to tell him that. Over the course of our friendship I had opened up to him bit by bit at the pace of an injured slug about my past, some not all obviously, and this was new to me. My usual MO was to jump right in, leap first and look later. And that was what always got me into trouble. The complete truth that I'm willing to tell you and not him is that I was afraid; afraid of the unknown. What if he eventualy found out about some ugly bit about me and no longer want to be with me? What if I let go and give this thing a chance, but he falls out of love with me like my ex-husband did? What if we have no sexual chemistry and then things become really awkward?
But what if being with him becomes the greatest experience of my life?
I walked out of my kitchen holding two mugs of hot chocolate, the good kind with the tiny marshmellows, and spotted Caleb on the couch staring out the window. I studied his features: olive complexion, strong jaw line, wavy dark hair just shy of needing another trim, glasses perched up on his square nose, hazel eyes, and that large muscular frame from years of working in construction. Hard to believe he had no clue just how good looking he was despite the constant glares he got from women everywhere he went. A late bloomer his friends called him, didn't grow into himself until he was almost twenty years old and now ten years later still identified more with who he was then who he is.
He looked over at me as his face broke into a boyish grin, "Mmmmm, hot chocolate always makes me feel like a little kid. Thank you."
I plopped down across from him on the opposite end of the couch. A girl with a constant fat complex felt so tiny next to this big hulking man; after all I'm only 5'2''. "It really feels like winter now. Christmas decorations are up, I have to pre-heat my car each morning, and I sleep in layers of clothing."
"Lila you should come spend the holidays with my family. We do this thing every year with a Secret Santa exchange, a huge feast my mom and aunts make, playing board games by the fireplace, and then we wrap things up with some classic holiday movies until everyone passes out. No one should be alone on Christmas, not even a stubborn brat like you." He playfully hits my leg.
"Stubborn brat?"
He shrugs, "Yeah, well you still won't go out with me."
How can I explain this? Caleb is amazing in pretty much every possible way. We met about three months ago at a bowling event I found on this internet social site. It was my lame attempt to make some more local friends and revamp my social life. Now there are two sides to Lila: social butterfly or social retard. The trick is I never know which side will come out until I'm knee deep in the actual situation. Well that day I was the social retard. Of course I was one of the first to arrive and after I signed in I just sat there awkwardly awaiting others.
Caleb was the second to arrive. It was easy to spot that he was a first timer as well with the deer in headlights look as if he had never seen the inside of a bowling alley before. He signed in and the tween behind the desk pointed to me, "She's part of that group too." He chose a chair a few seats away from me. After a couple of minutes, with a slight stutter and avoiding eye contact he asked me, "Do you bowl?"
Um, why the hell would I be here if I didn't? Now Lila this is to make new friends, best to tame the inner sarcastic bitch for now. I turned towards him, "Yes, but not well. I specialize in guttering. Do you think they'll give us bumpers? It really helps my self esteem." He laughed, then introduced himself. Ladies and gentleman a friendship was born.
Obviously we facebooked eachother cause that's what all the kids do these days. Facebook led to texting and texting led to phone calls and phone calls led to some face to face hangouts. We started our own two person book club, friday night movie get-to-gethers either in the theatre if something good we both wanted to see was out or at my house for a DVD (I'll explain why we couldn't do it at his place later on), and then there were the game nights his friends hosted bi-weekly that I became a part of. He had the same close group of friends since childhood, an eclectic group that all still lived locally. That bowling thing we met at was his attempt to branch out.
We had so much in common. One key thing was how close we were to our families especially our parents. His family lived about twenty minutes from him while mine was in another part of the country; hence the Christmas invite. We could talk for hours about nothing in particular until our voices got sore or it was too late on a work night. Something tragic we had in common was that we had both had had our hearts broken. His was a first love in his early twenties, mine was a marriage gone wrong. And then there were the little things: animal lovers, sarcastic dry sense of humor, taste in movies, neat/clean freaks, believed cheese is the ultimate food and enhances all other foods, and very physically affectionate with our friends and family.
He was smart, trustworthy, easy to talk to, loyal, caring, and there was the house thing. Caleb never wanted to hang out at his house which seemed kind of eery to me. After about two months of hanging out he told me he had a surprise for me. He texted me an address to meet him at after work on an idle Tuesday. As I pulled up to this beautiful old colonial I wondered if this was how those dumb white girls got killed in those horror movies. I was big chested, but was most definitely NOT a virgin so it could really go either way.
Caleb came out the front door with that boyish grin and waved me inside. This was his house, not a home as he explained because it had no personal touches. There was no furniture unless you count a mattress on the floor in the living room and a small desk for his laptop. It was beautiful though, completely renovated as far as I could tell. Original wood floors rebuffed, brand new appliances in the kitchen, thermal double paned windows, new siding, zoned-central heating system, upgraded insulation, original columns, crowned molding...but no furniture. When I teased him about this he explained he was waiting for his future wife to help him turn the house into a home. Please locate a mop to clean up the puddle I turned into after he told me that.
He was essentially everything I could want in a man. If I was to be completely honest here, I know you expect nothing less from me, I was falling in love with him. And I know this is going to sound like a lame break-up line, but it was me and not him.
Okay, back to the present. Hot guy on my couch. "Caleb, you know I think you're wonderful..."
"But?"
"But I don't want to ruin what we have."
There was more to it than that, but I wasn't willing to tell him that. Over the course of our friendship I had opened up to him bit by bit at the pace of an injured slug about my past, some not all obviously, and this was new to me. My usual MO was to jump right in, leap first and look later. And that was what always got me into trouble. The complete truth that I'm willing to tell you and not him is that I was afraid; afraid of the unknown. What if he eventualy found out about some ugly bit about me and no longer want to be with me? What if I let go and give this thing a chance, but he falls out of love with me like my ex-husband did? What if we have no sexual chemistry and then things become really awkward?
But what if being with him becomes the greatest experience of my life?
Life's not so funny sometimes
Today I returned to work both hopeful and nervous. It turns out I have only one day left of PTO to take for vacation/sick time/whatever. I needed three days to visit my parents for Thanksgiving, per the airline tickets they already bought me as my Christmas gift. When I called the airline to change my flight thus cutting my visit to them in ½, I was told there would be an $180 penalty plus an upgrade fee because there are only first class tickets available on 11/23/11. So….since I don’t have that kind of money just lying around AND I’ll be damned if I ask my parents to pay this, I guess I’ll be spending Thanksgiving alone.
Some people may argue, what’s the big deal? Weren’t your parents just here last week? Yes they were, but I was ill and mostly incapacitated. The majority of the visit consisted of them playing nurse and driving me to medical appointments. I would like to spend time with them where I’m able to at least sit up straight without wanting to vomit. It can also be argued that I can just see them another time. I would like to explain that my family lives 1000 miles away so t requires taking a few days off of work, booking a plane ticket, and some expenses I’m not normally equipped to handle. Having said this I only see them TWICE a year. TWICE a year. I go to them once, they come to me once. When they visited me in June I only saw them for 3 days. My parents are the most important people in the world to me and this hurts more than I could ever convey.
The holidays are a very special time to me. This year will be the first time in my life I will be spending both Thanksgiving and Christmas completely alone. I guess this is the price I pay for choosing to live 1000 miles away from my family and getting divorced from the “family” I had up here. I am truly all by myself.
I am sad. I am angry. I am hurting. It is because I keep getting sick with these freak medical conditions that I end up in these situations.
Some people may argue, what’s the big deal? Weren’t your parents just here last week? Yes they were, but I was ill and mostly incapacitated. The majority of the visit consisted of them playing nurse and driving me to medical appointments. I would like to spend time with them where I’m able to at least sit up straight without wanting to vomit. It can also be argued that I can just see them another time. I would like to explain that my family lives 1000 miles away so t requires taking a few days off of work, booking a plane ticket, and some expenses I’m not normally equipped to handle. Having said this I only see them TWICE a year. TWICE a year. I go to them once, they come to me once. When they visited me in June I only saw them for 3 days. My parents are the most important people in the world to me and this hurts more than I could ever convey.
The holidays are a very special time to me. This year will be the first time in my life I will be spending both Thanksgiving and Christmas completely alone. I guess this is the price I pay for choosing to live 1000 miles away from my family and getting divorced from the “family” I had up here. I am truly all by myself.
I am sad. I am angry. I am hurting. It is because I keep getting sick with these freak medical conditions that I end up in these situations.
Last Week's Recap
Greetings to all my blog readers. I know you're used to me getting up and running, then falling off the face of the blogging world. This time I have a very valid excuse, I was very ill. Amongst the many things I missed last week, blogging was definitely one of them. I warn that this blog may be boring, but I just have to get some stuff off my chest.
It all started Saturday Oct 8th when I slept literally half the day away. I didn't think much of it because with my sleep disorder I've done it before, but this felt different. Per my typical fashion I just shrugged it off as I'm getting a cold and went about my merry way.
Sunday Oct 9th I spent the day with two of my besties Dave and Rita just kind of hanging out. Throughout the day I had some dizzy spells and felt very weak. I didn't even tell Dave and Rita I felt this way because I didn't want to ruin our hanging out. It had been a while since the three of us had gotten together. When I came hame I was so drained I could barely move. Later on... I got almost no sleep and kept running to the bathroom getting sick. I was tossing, turning, crying all night long.
Monday Oct 10th I had severe muscle and joint pains throughout my entire body. It even hurt to breath. I felt feverish and was saturated in sweat even though there was no heat in my apartment. It took all my energy to limp to the bathroom each time I got sick. I think I posted something on Facebook asking if anyone could drop me off food as I had not done my grocery shopping over the weekend. No one was willing/able to help. In all fairness they probably thought I was contagious and didn't want to come near me, not that I blame them. Rita offered to come over, but it would have been 8:30/9 PM when I was struggling to stay awake. I politely declined. BIG MISTAKE!
Tuesday the muscle pains went away but not the stomach cramps, sweating, chills, dizziness, or getting sick in the bathroom. I posted on Facebook begging someone to drive me to the doctors. Once again at the time no one was willing/able to, probably fearing me being contagious. Some of these people have kids, so I get it. I called my dad crying and scared; he told me to call a cab and get to the hospital right away. He and my mom would be flying up (From South Carolina, over 1000 miles away) to take care of me since I was all alone. When I got to the hospital I could barely sit up right. When I got into a room the nurse discovered I was severely dehydrated, my heart rate was well over 100 despite my barely moving, and my blood pressure had dropped. Fourteen hours in the hospital all by myself, not including various medical personal, I frantically texted my status on Facebook. Facebook was my only way to reach out to people for help. I wanted food, I wanted someone to sit with me and hold my hand, I wanted a ride back from the hospital that didn't involve me paying someone. Then there were the responses from my co-workers, some I hardly talk to, offering me "whatever you need" that melted my heart. There were people wishing me well. There were people genuinely concerned.
Instead of focusing on all the wonderful people who had offered to help me, I was thinking about a close friend who I felt turned their back on me. I know it is not right to place MY values on OTHER people. I also know that just because I may have been there for/helped someone in the past when they needed me does NOT mean they HAVE top do the same for me; it would be nice, but it shouldn't be an expectation. Laying there is the hospital bed after three bags of IV fluids, limping to the bathroom getting sick, and having them tell me I'm not improving and may need to go impatient....I texted some specific "close" friends. One of them had work obligations, but kept texting me throughout the day to check up on me. She told me she would get to me as soon as possible. The second person had family obligations and a baby at home, so she really couldn't help me. But she insisted I keep texting her to keep her posted. By the time I got to the third person I was very emotional and took it out on her when she said she couldn't help me. Instead of compassion I got responses via text like "she didn't appreciate my attitude" and "the world doesn't stop just because I get sick". I was so hurt. I told her I was alone, sick, and scared. Later that night she texted me, after 11 pm. I told her that although I had been discharged I may still end up inpatient. I told her I was in alot of pain. She told me to stay positive. Then I didn't get a call, text, or anything from her since. If I had a friend who had been in the hospital I would have called/texted to check up on them, but that's me and obviously we are very different people. She didn't even notice I was missing from work when she hadn't seen or heard from me for two days...
After a CT scan it was determined I had severe inflammation of my colon; cause unknown.
Wednesday Oct 11 I spent most of the day sleeping. A good friend, stay at home mom with four kids, made the time to come see me and bring me crackers/gingerale. She told me how much she loved me and wished she could do more. My parents are amazing; they got in that night and immediately starting doing stuff even after being on a plane all day: grocery shopping, laundry, pick up my medicine. My heart was starting to heal even if my body wasn't.
Thursday Oct 12 my parents drove me to an "emergency" doctor appointment with my Gastroenterologist. While waiting in his office I had to lay down I felt so weak and sick. He wanted to do a colonoscopy immediately. We scheduled one for the next day. I mainly rested, still barely eating or drinking anything, and prepared for the test.
Friday morning I had blood work done, then the procedure. My body has been through hell. I slept most of the day.
Saturday was my first day out for a non-medical reason since the weekend before. Fresh autumn air, doing something social with my parents, and my first real meal in about 5 days.
I'm looking forward to going back to work tomorrow although I'm nervous. I have had 4 absences because of my liver issues, one for vertigo, and now this one for my colon. I will be put on corrective action for my attendance per company policy. Then I plan to apply for FMLA to protect my job and hope it gets approved. I also have to wait 7 days for test results which is a bit nerve wracking too. Ignorance is not bliss, not knowing what's causing all this is really worrying me. Also knowing that my parents can't fly up every time I get spontaneously sick sucks too. On a plus side my next door neighbor found out what happened and was upset I didn't reach out to her, so now I know I'm not 100% alone should something like this happen again.
It all started Saturday Oct 8th when I slept literally half the day away. I didn't think much of it because with my sleep disorder I've done it before, but this felt different. Per my typical fashion I just shrugged it off as I'm getting a cold and went about my merry way.
Sunday Oct 9th I spent the day with two of my besties Dave and Rita just kind of hanging out. Throughout the day I had some dizzy spells and felt very weak. I didn't even tell Dave and Rita I felt this way because I didn't want to ruin our hanging out. It had been a while since the three of us had gotten together. When I came hame I was so drained I could barely move. Later on... I got almost no sleep and kept running to the bathroom getting sick. I was tossing, turning, crying all night long.
Monday Oct 10th I had severe muscle and joint pains throughout my entire body. It even hurt to breath. I felt feverish and was saturated in sweat even though there was no heat in my apartment. It took all my energy to limp to the bathroom each time I got sick. I think I posted something on Facebook asking if anyone could drop me off food as I had not done my grocery shopping over the weekend. No one was willing/able to help. In all fairness they probably thought I was contagious and didn't want to come near me, not that I blame them. Rita offered to come over, but it would have been 8:30/9 PM when I was struggling to stay awake. I politely declined. BIG MISTAKE!
Tuesday the muscle pains went away but not the stomach cramps, sweating, chills, dizziness, or getting sick in the bathroom. I posted on Facebook begging someone to drive me to the doctors. Once again at the time no one was willing/able to, probably fearing me being contagious. Some of these people have kids, so I get it. I called my dad crying and scared; he told me to call a cab and get to the hospital right away. He and my mom would be flying up (From South Carolina, over 1000 miles away) to take care of me since I was all alone. When I got to the hospital I could barely sit up right. When I got into a room the nurse discovered I was severely dehydrated, my heart rate was well over 100 despite my barely moving, and my blood pressure had dropped. Fourteen hours in the hospital all by myself, not including various medical personal, I frantically texted my status on Facebook. Facebook was my only way to reach out to people for help. I wanted food, I wanted someone to sit with me and hold my hand, I wanted a ride back from the hospital that didn't involve me paying someone. Then there were the responses from my co-workers, some I hardly talk to, offering me "whatever you need" that melted my heart. There were people wishing me well. There were people genuinely concerned.
Instead of focusing on all the wonderful people who had offered to help me, I was thinking about a close friend who I felt turned their back on me. I know it is not right to place MY values on OTHER people. I also know that just because I may have been there for/helped someone in the past when they needed me does NOT mean they HAVE top do the same for me; it would be nice, but it shouldn't be an expectation. Laying there is the hospital bed after three bags of IV fluids, limping to the bathroom getting sick, and having them tell me I'm not improving and may need to go impatient....I texted some specific "close" friends. One of them had work obligations, but kept texting me throughout the day to check up on me. She told me she would get to me as soon as possible. The second person had family obligations and a baby at home, so she really couldn't help me. But she insisted I keep texting her to keep her posted. By the time I got to the third person I was very emotional and took it out on her when she said she couldn't help me. Instead of compassion I got responses via text like "she didn't appreciate my attitude" and "the world doesn't stop just because I get sick". I was so hurt. I told her I was alone, sick, and scared. Later that night she texted me, after 11 pm. I told her that although I had been discharged I may still end up inpatient. I told her I was in alot of pain. She told me to stay positive. Then I didn't get a call, text, or anything from her since. If I had a friend who had been in the hospital I would have called/texted to check up on them, but that's me and obviously we are very different people. She didn't even notice I was missing from work when she hadn't seen or heard from me for two days...
After a CT scan it was determined I had severe inflammation of my colon; cause unknown.
Wednesday Oct 11 I spent most of the day sleeping. A good friend, stay at home mom with four kids, made the time to come see me and bring me crackers/gingerale. She told me how much she loved me and wished she could do more. My parents are amazing; they got in that night and immediately starting doing stuff even after being on a plane all day: grocery shopping, laundry, pick up my medicine. My heart was starting to heal even if my body wasn't.
Thursday Oct 12 my parents drove me to an "emergency" doctor appointment with my Gastroenterologist. While waiting in his office I had to lay down I felt so weak and sick. He wanted to do a colonoscopy immediately. We scheduled one for the next day. I mainly rested, still barely eating or drinking anything, and prepared for the test.
Friday morning I had blood work done, then the procedure. My body has been through hell. I slept most of the day.
Saturday was my first day out for a non-medical reason since the weekend before. Fresh autumn air, doing something social with my parents, and my first real meal in about 5 days.
I'm looking forward to going back to work tomorrow although I'm nervous. I have had 4 absences because of my liver issues, one for vertigo, and now this one for my colon. I will be put on corrective action for my attendance per company policy. Then I plan to apply for FMLA to protect my job and hope it gets approved. I also have to wait 7 days for test results which is a bit nerve wracking too. Ignorance is not bliss, not knowing what's causing all this is really worrying me. Also knowing that my parents can't fly up every time I get spontaneously sick sucks too. On a plus side my next door neighbor found out what happened and was upset I didn't reach out to her, so now I know I'm not 100% alone should something like this happen again.
Some Letter's Are Better Left Unsent
***Name has been changed***
Dear Jasper,
I recognize that sometimes when things in our life don't go the way we had hoped or expected, it is easier to place blame on others. Although this may be a quick temporary fix, in the end accepting responsibility for our actions is the only way we can begin to heal, reflect, and move forward.
I would like to take the opportunity to apologize for my contributions to what happened between us. When we first got together I explained I wasn't ready for a relationship, yet after less than two weeks I faltered. It was not a smart move on my part to jump into something without first getting to know you. Additionally I should not have stayed in the relationship when I felt you weren't treating me right. That was my choice to stick things out even after it was clear things weren't going to change. It was obviously the wrong choice. The best thing I can take from this is learning that right now I need time to myself and in the future I need to honestly take the time to build a friendship with someone before anything romantic happens. Additionally I need to be strong enough to walk away when things don't feel right no matter how much I may care about the person.
You blame me for "fucking up your life", but you need to take a long hard look at yourself just as I did and see how you contributed to your own circumstances. You were a recovering alcoholic who had been fortunate enough to secure both a job and a place of residence that were dependent on you remaining sober. You made the choice to smoke pot EVERY day about half a dozen times a day. You made the choice to start drinking again. When it was reported to your employer, first by your neighbors: you came stumbling home so drunk that you couldn't get your keys in the front door, then you fell down your front steps and literally busted your head. The second report was by me after discovering you had been using me falsly as an alibi to skip your AA meetings in order to go drinking. Your employer gave you a choice to go into a recovery program or you would lose your job and home. YOU made the choice not to go into recovery. You also abandoned the dog you had adopted three weeks prior so that you could get high and drunk every day while crashing at your friend's place.
Another point that needs to be addressed is how you feel I was the one that "deliberately sabotaged the relationship because I was afraid to take the next step." You are right, I didn't want to take the next step with you but the reasons are different than what you think. I have a history of dating abusive and manipulative men; although I can recognize that everyone has an off day, there are some things that are unacceptable. Some examples: volunteering my car to drive your friend apartment hunting without asking me, cursing me out in a pizzeria, after I drove out of my way to pick you up from work to spend two hours with you before we have to go to bed you spending thirty minutes talking to a friend about partying on the phone then snapping at me when I asked you to please get off the phone claining "it was a very important phone call and couldn't wait" I apologize for failing to realize teh dire need to discuss planning a bacherolor party, asking me to lie to your friends about your smoking pot, using me an alibi to go smoke pot and get drunk, asking me to drive to pick you up because you have no money for the bus because you spent it all on pot, in a 3 month relationship where we always used my car for everything because you didn't have one and you only giving/offering me gas three times, bringing up my ex-boyfriend in a fight and throwing him in my face, name calling of any kind, showing up two hours late to plans we had with my parents beacuse you were out late partying the night before, and the final straw was making plans with me then leaving me hanging for 2 & 1/2 hours because you went to go smoke pot and get drunk.
You were barely a year sober, or not really, and financially unstable yet you were pushing me to have a kid with you. We had only been dating for two months at that point. You stated you didn't want to marry me or live with me, but we should have a baby together. When I disagreed your reply was "Well if you're not going to, then I need to find someone who will." GIANT RED FLAG, that I ignored. Or you telling me I should quit my job, pack up my apartment,and move to Florida with you because you want to live in Florida. This shows your impulsive nature and lack of maturity on both accounts. This is where I need to accept responsibility for KNOWING you were not the guy for me, yet I stuck around.
I wish you well and do hope you can get cleaned up enough to turn your life around. I now know I deserve so much more than you could have ever given me.
Dear Jasper,
I recognize that sometimes when things in our life don't go the way we had hoped or expected, it is easier to place blame on others. Although this may be a quick temporary fix, in the end accepting responsibility for our actions is the only way we can begin to heal, reflect, and move forward.
I would like to take the opportunity to apologize for my contributions to what happened between us. When we first got together I explained I wasn't ready for a relationship, yet after less than two weeks I faltered. It was not a smart move on my part to jump into something without first getting to know you. Additionally I should not have stayed in the relationship when I felt you weren't treating me right. That was my choice to stick things out even after it was clear things weren't going to change. It was obviously the wrong choice. The best thing I can take from this is learning that right now I need time to myself and in the future I need to honestly take the time to build a friendship with someone before anything romantic happens. Additionally I need to be strong enough to walk away when things don't feel right no matter how much I may care about the person.
You blame me for "fucking up your life", but you need to take a long hard look at yourself just as I did and see how you contributed to your own circumstances. You were a recovering alcoholic who had been fortunate enough to secure both a job and a place of residence that were dependent on you remaining sober. You made the choice to smoke pot EVERY day about half a dozen times a day. You made the choice to start drinking again. When it was reported to your employer, first by your neighbors: you came stumbling home so drunk that you couldn't get your keys in the front door, then you fell down your front steps and literally busted your head. The second report was by me after discovering you had been using me falsly as an alibi to skip your AA meetings in order to go drinking. Your employer gave you a choice to go into a recovery program or you would lose your job and home. YOU made the choice not to go into recovery. You also abandoned the dog you had adopted three weeks prior so that you could get high and drunk every day while crashing at your friend's place.
Another point that needs to be addressed is how you feel I was the one that "deliberately sabotaged the relationship because I was afraid to take the next step." You are right, I didn't want to take the next step with you but the reasons are different than what you think. I have a history of dating abusive and manipulative men; although I can recognize that everyone has an off day, there are some things that are unacceptable. Some examples: volunteering my car to drive your friend apartment hunting without asking me, cursing me out in a pizzeria, after I drove out of my way to pick you up from work to spend two hours with you before we have to go to bed you spending thirty minutes talking to a friend about partying on the phone then snapping at me when I asked you to please get off the phone claining "it was a very important phone call and couldn't wait" I apologize for failing to realize teh dire need to discuss planning a bacherolor party, asking me to lie to your friends about your smoking pot, using me an alibi to go smoke pot and get drunk, asking me to drive to pick you up because you have no money for the bus because you spent it all on pot, in a 3 month relationship where we always used my car for everything because you didn't have one and you only giving/offering me gas three times, bringing up my ex-boyfriend in a fight and throwing him in my face, name calling of any kind, showing up two hours late to plans we had with my parents beacuse you were out late partying the night before, and the final straw was making plans with me then leaving me hanging for 2 & 1/2 hours because you went to go smoke pot and get drunk.
You were barely a year sober, or not really, and financially unstable yet you were pushing me to have a kid with you. We had only been dating for two months at that point. You stated you didn't want to marry me or live with me, but we should have a baby together. When I disagreed your reply was "Well if you're not going to, then I need to find someone who will." GIANT RED FLAG, that I ignored. Or you telling me I should quit my job, pack up my apartment,and move to Florida with you because you want to live in Florida. This shows your impulsive nature and lack of maturity on both accounts. This is where I need to accept responsibility for KNOWING you were not the guy for me, yet I stuck around.
I wish you well and do hope you can get cleaned up enough to turn your life around. I now know I deserve so much more than you could have ever given me.
Welcome to Valley Cottage
Last weekend as I drove down the thruway a special feeling hit my heart when I crossed into Rockland County. Despite some of the horrific experiences I may have had while attending the Nyack Public Schools, there were some real good memories too.
I am the whitest Puerto Rican you will ever meet and I blame that on growing up in a town named Valley Cottage. There was a creek in my back yard although some will argue it belonged to the people that lived behind me, regardless I still played in it. There was a farm in the middle of town owned by the local mafia aka Italian family who controlled all things transportation to the local schools. There were kids riding on bicycles everywhere. And a town reservoir people illegally swam in. My Puerto Rican self didn't stand a chance. Oh my parents raised me Jewish, that would be the nail in the coffin. At this point I am legally obligated to admit that I am in fact only half Puert Rican via my mom, but my other half is Eastern European mutt via my dad.
The Nappi's. It was at their house I discovered my first love, black labs. Their dog Beauty had just had a litter of puppies on Valentine's Day circa 1986. One of them was all black with a patch of white fur on her chest in the shape of a heart. They named her Valentine and decided to keep her while the other pups were adopted out. It made it in the Rockland Journal News (that's our NY Times). Charlotte, the matriarch, babysat my older brother then later on babysat yours truly. Some of my happiest memories from childhood were from that home and playing with those dogs. Christmas time Charlotte transformed her living room and dining room into a winter wonder land with tables full of small village figurines. For a child it was magical. Her kids, Scott who was my brother's age and Faith who was two years older than the boys, were like siblings to me. I wanted to be so much like Faith who was easily the prettiest and coolest girl I knew. Naturally six year old Laura had a crush on twelve year old Scott. Ah, in warmer weather there was the pool which of course I peed in on a regular basis. Sadly the pool is now gone, but thankfully my bladder control issues are in check these days.
Valley Cottage Elementary Morning Program. Us kids from VCE were entertained by the school nurse EVERY morning in teh caefeteria/gym for the thirty minutes before school started while teachers got their coffee and classes ready. It may sound lame, but it was far from it! VCE had a theme song for each day of the week, I am proud to say I still know them all. "Did you ever think much about Thursday as being your favorite day? I bet you never thought much about Thursday as being your favorite day. Cause Thursday is next to Friday and Friday is next to Saturday. And Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday is my favorite day". Wow, now that I think about it I am thirty years old and still singing these songs. Perhaps proud wasn't the right word, maybe ashamed or embaressed better suits this situation. Also I would like to apologize to Thursday that no one loves you, it's true no one loves Thursdays, and because of this Thursday had to ride on the coat tails of Saturday which EVERYONE loves.
Adventures at summer camp. Pine Brook Day Camp was located in Tallman, NY right on the NY/NJ border. 75% of the camp's population came from NJ. Were the NJ Day Camps that lame? Obviously! My dad worked at Pine Brook so my brother and I got to go for free. There was a man made lake where in three short years I learned to master the back float. It was on that day that the entire water staff applauded me. Don't judge, back floats are very tricky. Pine Brook had a nature hut with live animals and once a summer we made ice cream from scratch (I think they actually milked the goat too). There was a special section for the pre-school aged kids called Jack and Jill; like a daycare inside of the camp. We had color war the seventh week of camp where we all divided into half: Red vs White, Jack and Jill campers were pink. Color war always had a cool theme like Jetson's vs the Flintstones or Communism vs Democracy. And at the end of every day we had ice cream up on the hill. Unfortunately the BEST CAMP EVER, fact not just opinion, closed down due to severe flooding. The repairs were just too much for the owners to take on. Hasidic Jews bought the campgrounds and then ran their own camp. I know what you're thinking, Hasidic Jews do Day Camp? I'm just as surprised as you, but good for them. After Pine Brook I attended then worked at several other camps, none ever quite like Pine Brook though. Candy Mountain aka haven for rich mostly Jewish kids, Camp Addison Boyce where you paid to swim in a lake and pee in a hole in the ground they call a latrine, Deer Mountain Day Camp aka another haven for rich mostly Jewish kids; and Rockland Center for the Arts. (The only good think that came out of Camp Candy Mountain was meeting the lovely Tamara and Tiffany Clark)
Rockland Center For The Arts Finally a place made for me. No sports! For those of you sports fans out there, let me explain. Gym class was torture enough during the school year and I strongly feel my summer should be full of fun things I actually LIKE to do. Additionally I am so uncoordinated I can barely walk for five minutes with tripping. RCFTA (hey it's a long name to keep typing out) had puppet making, dance, 2-D Arts and Crafts, 3-D Arts and Crafts, movie making, drama, ceramics. While certain instructors loved my enthusiasm, others had to politely remind me to help the campers with their projects as opposed to doing the projects for myself. RCFTA is where I met some of the craziest, funniest, incredible people of my life: Sue, Amy, Alley, Brian, and Tim. Amy now runs the place. I also scored two sweet babysitting gigs for kids I adored. Sam, thank you for never making fun of me no matter how badly I sucked at the video games me played. Treating you to ice cream every day probably didn't hurt. Alex, Lissette, and Vincent (I list them in age order, not order of importance) thank you for introducing me to the wonderful world of Rug Rats which I still sometimes watch as an adult. Bless Liseette's heart when she asked me to still babysit every Thursday night while I was two hours away at college.
Temple Beth Torah, as previously mentioned I was raised Jewish. While I did not like attending "regular school" I loved Hebrew School. I met kids from other school districts, okay Clarkstown South,(Dustin B, Erica R, and Sheryl L) and learned how to be a Jew. For those who didn't know us Jews go to school to learn the day to day living of being a Jew. Oh and we learn Hebrew, this I did not like so much. At twelve years old I started working part time for the school; the best part working with the sarcastic British secretary Donna. For secretary's day she said in her sarcsatic British voice to no one in particular, "Thanks for the beautiful bouquet instead of a raise for the crap I put up with around here." And the Jews really know how to throw down for a holiday: Sukkot, Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippor, Purim, and Passover. Okay okay I know what you're all thinking and yes yes CHANUKKAH. For you Christian/non Jewish folks Chanukkah is not the ONLY Jewish holiday or even the most important holiday. It ranks on the same levels of Arbor Day. Sorry Arbor Day, I am sure someone somewhere is off hugging a tree in your honor. As a side note I would like to thank the public schools for allowing one Chanukkah song each holiday concert so we don't feel left out. Of course they rotate the same three songs over and over again so by the time I'm fifteen I'm so over dreidle dreidle dreidle.
Girl Scouts or when we felt we were too cool and too old to be Girl Scouts, The GS Club. For my brief stint in the GS Club, 10 years to be exact, there were some fine moments. One such highlight was our Christmas Caroling Adventure around my neighborhood. When we reached one particular house the residents shut off their lights immediatly after we rang the doorbell. As most of us acepted defeat and began to walk away, the fabulous Melanie Russell shouted "We know you're in there and we're going to sing anyways!" What can I say, Melanie really loved to sing so damn anyone who cheated her of an opportunity. We seranaded someone's front door for three songs. And how can you mention GS Club without talking about cookies? Selling GS cookies is actually pretty cut throat especially when you live in a neighborhood that has approximately one GS per every four houses. Most people bought on a first come first serve basis which is fair, some only bought from the cuter and younger kids (this is where looking 1/2 my age always helped), and then you had the rare gem like Mrs. Hallinan who bought four boxes from EVERYONE. Woman loved her cookies. The vast majority of my sales came from my mom's co-workers, she worked at in the Bronx where Girl Scouts were in short supply as were the cookies. Listen it's not cheating, ALL parents bring their kids fundraising crap into their jobs. To be fair my dad brought my Hebrew School fundraiser to his work. I properly utilized both of my parents because I love them the same. I digress. Other fun moments in the GS Club including working on my Gold Award with Luisa Alberto and Melanie Russell, sleeping on a Submarine, sleeping in a couple of musuems in NYC where I disected a cow's eye, Orienteering Weekend, sewing Christmas Ornaments (mine were the ones falling apart. It's not that I didn't care, I'm just not good with needles much like Sleeping Beauty), and working with adults with disabilities.
Last weekend I leaned against my car as I looked at my childhood home. Someone else lives there now and to be fair I live somewhere else now too. The tree in the front was missing, the one all the neighborhood boys used to climb as I watched from bedroom window like some creepy stalker....well if it was my tree on my lawn was I really a creepy stalker? Feel free to decide for yourself. And looking at the house I realized a part of me will always belong here.
I am the whitest Puerto Rican you will ever meet and I blame that on growing up in a town named Valley Cottage. There was a creek in my back yard although some will argue it belonged to the people that lived behind me, regardless I still played in it. There was a farm in the middle of town owned by the local mafia aka Italian family who controlled all things transportation to the local schools. There were kids riding on bicycles everywhere. And a town reservoir people illegally swam in. My Puerto Rican self didn't stand a chance. Oh my parents raised me Jewish, that would be the nail in the coffin. At this point I am legally obligated to admit that I am in fact only half Puert Rican via my mom, but my other half is Eastern European mutt via my dad.
The Nappi's. It was at their house I discovered my first love, black labs. Their dog Beauty had just had a litter of puppies on Valentine's Day circa 1986. One of them was all black with a patch of white fur on her chest in the shape of a heart. They named her Valentine and decided to keep her while the other pups were adopted out. It made it in the Rockland Journal News (that's our NY Times). Charlotte, the matriarch, babysat my older brother then later on babysat yours truly. Some of my happiest memories from childhood were from that home and playing with those dogs. Christmas time Charlotte transformed her living room and dining room into a winter wonder land with tables full of small village figurines. For a child it was magical. Her kids, Scott who was my brother's age and Faith who was two years older than the boys, were like siblings to me. I wanted to be so much like Faith who was easily the prettiest and coolest girl I knew. Naturally six year old Laura had a crush on twelve year old Scott. Ah, in warmer weather there was the pool which of course I peed in on a regular basis. Sadly the pool is now gone, but thankfully my bladder control issues are in check these days.
Valley Cottage Elementary Morning Program. Us kids from VCE were entertained by the school nurse EVERY morning in teh caefeteria/gym for the thirty minutes before school started while teachers got their coffee and classes ready. It may sound lame, but it was far from it! VCE had a theme song for each day of the week, I am proud to say I still know them all. "Did you ever think much about Thursday as being your favorite day? I bet you never thought much about Thursday as being your favorite day. Cause Thursday is next to Friday and Friday is next to Saturday. And Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, Saturday is my favorite day". Wow, now that I think about it I am thirty years old and still singing these songs. Perhaps proud wasn't the right word, maybe ashamed or embaressed better suits this situation. Also I would like to apologize to Thursday that no one loves you, it's true no one loves Thursdays, and because of this Thursday had to ride on the coat tails of Saturday which EVERYONE loves.
Adventures at summer camp. Pine Brook Day Camp was located in Tallman, NY right on the NY/NJ border. 75% of the camp's population came from NJ. Were the NJ Day Camps that lame? Obviously! My dad worked at Pine Brook so my brother and I got to go for free. There was a man made lake where in three short years I learned to master the back float. It was on that day that the entire water staff applauded me. Don't judge, back floats are very tricky. Pine Brook had a nature hut with live animals and once a summer we made ice cream from scratch (I think they actually milked the goat too). There was a special section for the pre-school aged kids called Jack and Jill; like a daycare inside of the camp. We had color war the seventh week of camp where we all divided into half: Red vs White, Jack and Jill campers were pink. Color war always had a cool theme like Jetson's vs the Flintstones or Communism vs Democracy. And at the end of every day we had ice cream up on the hill. Unfortunately the BEST CAMP EVER, fact not just opinion, closed down due to severe flooding. The repairs were just too much for the owners to take on. Hasidic Jews bought the campgrounds and then ran their own camp. I know what you're thinking, Hasidic Jews do Day Camp? I'm just as surprised as you, but good for them. After Pine Brook I attended then worked at several other camps, none ever quite like Pine Brook though. Candy Mountain aka haven for rich mostly Jewish kids, Camp Addison Boyce where you paid to swim in a lake and pee in a hole in the ground they call a latrine, Deer Mountain Day Camp aka another haven for rich mostly Jewish kids; and Rockland Center for the Arts. (The only good think that came out of Camp Candy Mountain was meeting the lovely Tamara and Tiffany Clark)
Rockland Center For The Arts Finally a place made for me. No sports! For those of you sports fans out there, let me explain. Gym class was torture enough during the school year and I strongly feel my summer should be full of fun things I actually LIKE to do. Additionally I am so uncoordinated I can barely walk for five minutes with tripping. RCFTA (hey it's a long name to keep typing out) had puppet making, dance, 2-D Arts and Crafts, 3-D Arts and Crafts, movie making, drama, ceramics. While certain instructors loved my enthusiasm, others had to politely remind me to help the campers with their projects as opposed to doing the projects for myself. RCFTA is where I met some of the craziest, funniest, incredible people of my life: Sue, Amy, Alley, Brian, and Tim. Amy now runs the place. I also scored two sweet babysitting gigs for kids I adored. Sam, thank you for never making fun of me no matter how badly I sucked at the video games me played. Treating you to ice cream every day probably didn't hurt. Alex, Lissette, and Vincent (I list them in age order, not order of importance) thank you for introducing me to the wonderful world of Rug Rats which I still sometimes watch as an adult. Bless Liseette's heart when she asked me to still babysit every Thursday night while I was two hours away at college.
Temple Beth Torah, as previously mentioned I was raised Jewish. While I did not like attending "regular school" I loved Hebrew School. I met kids from other school districts, okay Clarkstown South,(Dustin B, Erica R, and Sheryl L) and learned how to be a Jew. For those who didn't know us Jews go to school to learn the day to day living of being a Jew. Oh and we learn Hebrew, this I did not like so much. At twelve years old I started working part time for the school; the best part working with the sarcastic British secretary Donna. For secretary's day she said in her sarcsatic British voice to no one in particular, "Thanks for the beautiful bouquet instead of a raise for the crap I put up with around here." And the Jews really know how to throw down for a holiday: Sukkot, Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippor, Purim, and Passover. Okay okay I know what you're all thinking and yes yes CHANUKKAH. For you Christian/non Jewish folks Chanukkah is not the ONLY Jewish holiday or even the most important holiday. It ranks on the same levels of Arbor Day. Sorry Arbor Day, I am sure someone somewhere is off hugging a tree in your honor. As a side note I would like to thank the public schools for allowing one Chanukkah song each holiday concert so we don't feel left out. Of course they rotate the same three songs over and over again so by the time I'm fifteen I'm so over dreidle dreidle dreidle.
Girl Scouts or when we felt we were too cool and too old to be Girl Scouts, The GS Club. For my brief stint in the GS Club, 10 years to be exact, there were some fine moments. One such highlight was our Christmas Caroling Adventure around my neighborhood. When we reached one particular house the residents shut off their lights immediatly after we rang the doorbell. As most of us acepted defeat and began to walk away, the fabulous Melanie Russell shouted "We know you're in there and we're going to sing anyways!" What can I say, Melanie really loved to sing so damn anyone who cheated her of an opportunity. We seranaded someone's front door for three songs. And how can you mention GS Club without talking about cookies? Selling GS cookies is actually pretty cut throat especially when you live in a neighborhood that has approximately one GS per every four houses. Most people bought on a first come first serve basis which is fair, some only bought from the cuter and younger kids (this is where looking 1/2 my age always helped), and then you had the rare gem like Mrs. Hallinan who bought four boxes from EVERYONE. Woman loved her cookies. The vast majority of my sales came from my mom's co-workers, she worked at in the Bronx where Girl Scouts were in short supply as were the cookies. Listen it's not cheating, ALL parents bring their kids fundraising crap into their jobs. To be fair my dad brought my Hebrew School fundraiser to his work. I properly utilized both of my parents because I love them the same. I digress. Other fun moments in the GS Club including working on my Gold Award with Luisa Alberto and Melanie Russell, sleeping on a Submarine, sleeping in a couple of musuems in NYC where I disected a cow's eye, Orienteering Weekend, sewing Christmas Ornaments (mine were the ones falling apart. It's not that I didn't care, I'm just not good with needles much like Sleeping Beauty), and working with adults with disabilities.
Last weekend I leaned against my car as I looked at my childhood home. Someone else lives there now and to be fair I live somewhere else now too. The tree in the front was missing, the one all the neighborhood boys used to climb as I watched from bedroom window like some creepy stalker....well if it was my tree on my lawn was I really a creepy stalker? Feel free to decide for yourself. And looking at the house I realized a part of me will always belong here.
A Sense of Entitlement
I would like to start this blog with a disclaimer. I am by no means a man hater. I have five incredible men in my life (Dave, Doug, Mark, my dad, and my brother) who have shown me the way a man should treat the women in his life: with love, respect, and admiration. Unfortunately almost all other men I have come across have been the exact opposite.
Last winter my landlord left us hanging when he refused to take care of the parking lot. He was off busy skiing in Vermont while our parking lot turned into an ice skating rink. Three of us slipped and fell. Two of us had our cars get stuck. The mail carrier even threatened to stop delivering our mail because it was so bad. I was determined to not let this happen again. There are four apartments in my building; three of us had already banned together and formulated a plan. I would talk to the Landlord on behalf of all of us demanding that he hire someone to maintain the property while he's away or we'll hire someone and deduct it from our rents.
Last night I went to get the fourth apartment on board, the guy who lives above me. I have barely spoken to the guy, but he seemed friendly and the other neighbors vouched for how nice he was. At first we were talking in the hallway, I thought this would be a quick chat and actually came up in my pajamas (sweats in case you're wondering) He wanted to show me his leaking fridge that the Landlord refuses to take care of, so I stepped inside his place. We ended up sitting in his kitchen laughing and getting to know one another.
There was some light flirting. He mentioned how he's heard me before with my ex-boyfriend. I apologized as my face turned completely red. I explained to him that I'm turning a new leaf, holding out for love. He explained he liked booty calls and to keep things simple. I explained I'm a relationship girl who gets emotionally involved, so booty calls don't work for me.
He kept moving closer to me. My body language was stiff. Then he said he thought I was cool and went in for a hug. I thought the hug was innocent until he started kissing me. I pulled away explaining that I can't do this. When I got up to leave he was blocking my way. He started pleading for me to stay because I turned him on so much. It took a good 5 minutes of me backing away towards the door before he let me leave. I was honestly scared what he was going to do.
At first I blamed myself, but that's the whole victim mentality bullshit that women are taught. It is NOT our fault if a guy mistakes our kindness for an invitation to hump us. It doesn't matter what we wore, where we were, ect. At the end of the day no always means no. I told him "no" and he kept pushing for more. And the fact that he was blocking my exit was extremely aggressive. It was not my fault. I did nothing wrong. And now I will feel weird/scared around him as long as we both live there. I am NOT moving. The more I think about it the angrier I get.
It makes me once again lose faith in men as a whole. I am so much more than a good time in bed, too bad the guys I come across are unwilling to take the time to get to know that.
Last winter my landlord left us hanging when he refused to take care of the parking lot. He was off busy skiing in Vermont while our parking lot turned into an ice skating rink. Three of us slipped and fell. Two of us had our cars get stuck. The mail carrier even threatened to stop delivering our mail because it was so bad. I was determined to not let this happen again. There are four apartments in my building; three of us had already banned together and formulated a plan. I would talk to the Landlord on behalf of all of us demanding that he hire someone to maintain the property while he's away or we'll hire someone and deduct it from our rents.
Last night I went to get the fourth apartment on board, the guy who lives above me. I have barely spoken to the guy, but he seemed friendly and the other neighbors vouched for how nice he was. At first we were talking in the hallway, I thought this would be a quick chat and actually came up in my pajamas (sweats in case you're wondering) He wanted to show me his leaking fridge that the Landlord refuses to take care of, so I stepped inside his place. We ended up sitting in his kitchen laughing and getting to know one another.
There was some light flirting. He mentioned how he's heard me before with my ex-boyfriend. I apologized as my face turned completely red. I explained to him that I'm turning a new leaf, holding out for love. He explained he liked booty calls and to keep things simple. I explained I'm a relationship girl who gets emotionally involved, so booty calls don't work for me.
He kept moving closer to me. My body language was stiff. Then he said he thought I was cool and went in for a hug. I thought the hug was innocent until he started kissing me. I pulled away explaining that I can't do this. When I got up to leave he was blocking my way. He started pleading for me to stay because I turned him on so much. It took a good 5 minutes of me backing away towards the door before he let me leave. I was honestly scared what he was going to do.
At first I blamed myself, but that's the whole victim mentality bullshit that women are taught. It is NOT our fault if a guy mistakes our kindness for an invitation to hump us. It doesn't matter what we wore, where we were, ect. At the end of the day no always means no. I told him "no" and he kept pushing for more. And the fact that he was blocking my exit was extremely aggressive. It was not my fault. I did nothing wrong. And now I will feel weird/scared around him as long as we both live there. I am NOT moving. The more I think about it the angrier I get.
It makes me once again lose faith in men as a whole. I am so much more than a good time in bed, too bad the guys I come across are unwilling to take the time to get to know that.
The Girl With The Mismatched Socks
Thought I'd take a stab at some fiction again.We'll see how I do
Have you ever done something just once, seriously just once, and that becomes your whole identity? Part of the problem is when you do it and I did this thing on my first day at a new job; I wore mismatched socks. Now we're not talking about you're typical I got dressed in the dark and accidentally picked up one brown dress sock and one black dress sock, oh no, this indiscretion was far worse. Having never grown out of my cute funky socks phase once puberty hit, I had an array of socks more properly suited for a six year old. It also helped that I could still fit into children's shoes. If only the rest of my body had stayed child size, but I digress. On that day I wore a gay pride rainbow sock on my left foot and a brown teddy bear sock on my right foot.
Don't you dare try to give me the benefit of the doubt. Although I do appreciate you making sweet excuses for me like "she was in a rush" "she's color blind or just plain blind" "she's borderline mentally retarded", nope not the case at all. I suffer from this affliction called LazinessIDon'tgiveashit. It's one word, I spell checked it. I mean it's socks, how big a deal is it really? They didn't hire me because of my socks, no guy ever wanted to violate me because of my socks, and I certainly didn't graduate with high honors because of my socks.
On this first day at my impressive new job (details later), I did wear nice black slacks and a navy blue collared shirt. My hair was combed and neatly pulled back. Simple silver tear drop earrings. I even wore virtually scuff free black loafers. My pants were long enough to cover up the socks. No one would see the socks, or so I thought.
The job was a call center for a nationally known health insurance company. For privacy reasons I can't disclose the name or I have been told I'll be assassinated. They hired a training class of twenty-one. Why not twenty or twenty two? Because twenty one of us impressed them THAT much during the interview process. Also in part these places tend to over hire because they know at least three won't make it passed training and half of the remaining people will realize six months in that we're far underpaid for the bullshit we're expected to deal with, and they'll quit. Why that was a run on sentence! I'm good at those, did I mention I was an English major in college? Yes a college degree with high honors and the best I could do was a call center job for $12.50/hour at BCBS. Shit, I said the name...just forget I mentioned it and let's move on.
That first day waiting in the lobby with the other future cubicle farmers I did what everyone else was doing; make blatant judgments about the other people around me. Bleached blond, huge tits, tight dress couldn't hack it as a porn star. What? You think that was mean? She was wearing a rhinestone necklace that actually said Pornstar. Yup, and my mismatched socks was clearly a bad choice. Indian girl with thick glasses and long braided hair. Wait are they now bringing outsourcers in? If so if that called in-sourcing? Older gentleman in very sharp suit, too sharp for this crap job, probably former CEO that lost his job during Bush administration. He's disgruntled and one day will come in with a gun to take us all out. I awkwardly smile at him telepathically saying "I'm cool if you kill the others, just please leave me alone. I'm a single mom to five cats". More on the cats another time. The other people were various slots to fill in various quotas including someone in a wheel chair who was an African American female, think she filled six quotas alone! She'll never get fired, probably has the EEOC on speed dial.
Then it happened. I made the HUGE mistake of scratching my dry legs. Why don't I ever use lotion? Oh, cause my mom told me I should. Left leg first exposing gay pride sock, right leg second exposing teddy bear sock. Disgruntled suit guy stifles a laugh as he announces to the room, "Look at those socks! How old are you?" Everyone stares, a few more laugh. Now I'm thinking maybe I'll be the one to take everyone out and I know who'll be first.
I didn't have a name. For the rest of training I was affectionately referred to as socks. I even tried a cute skirt with pantyhose a couple of times, but my identity had already been branded. I guess it could have been worse if they knew about my five cats or the unsightly mustache I have to get waxed on the regular or that I lost my virginity at a Hanson concert. I could have been Crazy Cat Bearded Lady Mmmmm'Bop. So I'll count my blessings.
Stay tuned for the crazy antics that go on once I leave training and actually start the job.
Have you ever done something just once, seriously just once, and that becomes your whole identity? Part of the problem is when you do it and I did this thing on my first day at a new job; I wore mismatched socks. Now we're not talking about you're typical I got dressed in the dark and accidentally picked up one brown dress sock and one black dress sock, oh no, this indiscretion was far worse. Having never grown out of my cute funky socks phase once puberty hit, I had an array of socks more properly suited for a six year old. It also helped that I could still fit into children's shoes. If only the rest of my body had stayed child size, but I digress. On that day I wore a gay pride rainbow sock on my left foot and a brown teddy bear sock on my right foot.
Don't you dare try to give me the benefit of the doubt. Although I do appreciate you making sweet excuses for me like "she was in a rush" "she's color blind or just plain blind" "she's borderline mentally retarded", nope not the case at all. I suffer from this affliction called LazinessIDon'tgiveashit. It's one word, I spell checked it. I mean it's socks, how big a deal is it really? They didn't hire me because of my socks, no guy ever wanted to violate me because of my socks, and I certainly didn't graduate with high honors because of my socks.
On this first day at my impressive new job (details later), I did wear nice black slacks and a navy blue collared shirt. My hair was combed and neatly pulled back. Simple silver tear drop earrings. I even wore virtually scuff free black loafers. My pants were long enough to cover up the socks. No one would see the socks, or so I thought.
The job was a call center for a nationally known health insurance company. For privacy reasons I can't disclose the name or I have been told I'll be assassinated. They hired a training class of twenty-one. Why not twenty or twenty two? Because twenty one of us impressed them THAT much during the interview process. Also in part these places tend to over hire because they know at least three won't make it passed training and half of the remaining people will realize six months in that we're far underpaid for the bullshit we're expected to deal with, and they'll quit. Why that was a run on sentence! I'm good at those, did I mention I was an English major in college? Yes a college degree with high honors and the best I could do was a call center job for $12.50/hour at BCBS. Shit, I said the name...just forget I mentioned it and let's move on.
That first day waiting in the lobby with the other future cubicle farmers I did what everyone else was doing; make blatant judgments about the other people around me. Bleached blond, huge tits, tight dress couldn't hack it as a porn star. What? You think that was mean? She was wearing a rhinestone necklace that actually said Pornstar. Yup, and my mismatched socks was clearly a bad choice. Indian girl with thick glasses and long braided hair. Wait are they now bringing outsourcers in? If so if that called in-sourcing? Older gentleman in very sharp suit, too sharp for this crap job, probably former CEO that lost his job during Bush administration. He's disgruntled and one day will come in with a gun to take us all out. I awkwardly smile at him telepathically saying "I'm cool if you kill the others, just please leave me alone. I'm a single mom to five cats". More on the cats another time. The other people were various slots to fill in various quotas including someone in a wheel chair who was an African American female, think she filled six quotas alone! She'll never get fired, probably has the EEOC on speed dial.
Then it happened. I made the HUGE mistake of scratching my dry legs. Why don't I ever use lotion? Oh, cause my mom told me I should. Left leg first exposing gay pride sock, right leg second exposing teddy bear sock. Disgruntled suit guy stifles a laugh as he announces to the room, "Look at those socks! How old are you?" Everyone stares, a few more laugh. Now I'm thinking maybe I'll be the one to take everyone out and I know who'll be first.
I didn't have a name. For the rest of training I was affectionately referred to as socks. I even tried a cute skirt with pantyhose a couple of times, but my identity had already been branded. I guess it could have been worse if they knew about my five cats or the unsightly mustache I have to get waxed on the regular or that I lost my virginity at a Hanson concert. I could have been Crazy Cat Bearded Lady Mmmmm'Bop. So I'll count my blessings.
Stay tuned for the crazy antics that go on once I leave training and actually start the job.
Why I Didn't go to my 10 Year High School Reunion
Nyack High School was not so unique as in there were cliques like all other high schools across America: Jocks, Brains, Weirdos, Drama Club Members, Foreigners...and a specific formula for where you fell on the social hierarchy that depending on your looks, your family/money, your looks, your talents (the more athletic the better), and your looks. Generally people in different social classes didn't commingle let alone date. The beautiful people, as I called them behind their backs and they probably openly referred to themselves, liked to remind peons like me just how unworthy I was.
Note: There are two specific exceptions I can think of, both of whom are now professional models, Erica Lawrence and Lauren Dellolio. They were kind to me, as far as I know they were kind to everyone, because despite how beautiful they were on the outside they knew it didn't give them a sense of entitlement to treat others like crap. Plus they both have really good hearts and anyone who knew/knows them would agree.
I was Josie Grosie in High School. Oily skin, chubby bordering on fat, frizzy or curly hair depending on the day, and a horrific fashion sense. I dated/commingled with people mostly 2 or 3 grades below me because to them I was somehow seen as cool. Imagine that concept. People in my grade knew better.
So Nyack High School gave me a daily dose for four years that because I wasn't spectacular in looks, sports, academics, or wealth I was a vile human being. I was bullied beyond belief both verbally and physically. Freshmen year, girls in my gym class broke into my gym locker and dragged my clothes threw the mud. And a boy in the same class filled my water bottle with toilet water. One boy in my English class emptied a completely full stapler into my hair.
Sophomore year was the year I was a fat bitch. In case one day I managed to gather a shred of self esteem, there was someone there to remind me "No, you're a fat bitch."
Junior year was when I hung out mostly with freshman. AND some of the freshman managed to bully me. Imagine the world I lived in where underclassman harassed an upperclassman. I was special alright. The happiest moment of my years at Nyack was when I was in Spain for 11 days away from all this bullshit. If you think this was exaggerated or in my head, I had several Spaniard students/host kids ask me why my classmates hated me so much. I honestly didn't know how to answer them. One popular kid from my school actually did tell me I was making in all up and she would personally invite me to parties to show me just how wrong I was. I got so excited, but Dina Gregory never did call or invite me to anything. Once again an elitist reminding me cruelly that I should know my role. And it wasn't just my peers that bullied me either. A particular Field Hockey coach, who has never cut a member from the team, almost didn't let me onto the team because I missed summer conditioning. My reason: I was helping out my religious school during a staff shortage. However he was willing to make an exception for the Ice Queen who skipped summer conditioning because she simply didn't know if she wanted to be on the team or not. Well the Coach let me on as a probationary gesture, then after weeks of busting my hump he gave me my own jersey. The next day he cut me. "Laura, you are one of the hardest working girls out here. You're always early, stay late, help out where ever needed and have a great positive attitude. But you lack talent and that's what really matters. I just don't have any room for you on the team." When I asked if I could play for the JV team because of how much I loved the game, he told me no. He also said not to even bother coming out next year. The next day he gave my jersey to a freshman. To top it off I was in his gym class all year long after that; daily reminder that even certain faculty members at Nyack didn't think I was good enough.
Senior year was the worst by far. I cut so much class that there was a possibility I wouldn't graduate. I was literally afraid to go to school. My Senior Spanish class had a brutal crew. Every time I opened my mouth they had something sharp to say about me/to me. I stayed home crying. One of the most popular beautiful girls had worked with me in summer camp the year before; a girl I had known since first grade. For the first time in years she was friendly to me. This of course was because none of her people were around to witness it. When school started back up she resorted back to her ice queen demeanor. I had to beg and plea my way into a limo for prom.
I repeatedly asked my parents for a transfer. I asked faculty members for help. Neither group of adults believed it was as bad as I made it out to be. Funny enough parents of classmates would often give me their condolences for the way I was treated.
So when I got wind that we're having a 10 year reunion, I actually consider for a moment that maybe I'll go. Maybe people have changed and grown, maybe just maybe even some of them regret what they put me through. Wrong again. I have Facebook to thank for glimpsing me into the lives of the people I once knew. Dina Gregory ignored my friend request, guess I really am NOT getting any party invites from her. Apparently there is a "Nyack High School" group on Facebook that is invite only, more than a decade later and I'm still not good enough. And the beautiful ice queen married a beautiful boy and together they have three beautiful children. When I told her just how beautiful her children were, her reply "I know."
So at eighteen when I wasn't smart, beautiful, thin, or cool enough....why would I be at twenty-eight? Why should I subject myself once again to a situation I barely survived the first time? I didn't go. The funny thing about bullies and the bullied is that the actual bullies move on from it all as if nothing ever happened while those who were bullied suffer years after the trauma. Besides reunions tend to just be a giant pissing contest over whose more successful both personally and professionally. No thanks.
Note: There are two specific exceptions I can think of, both of whom are now professional models, Erica Lawrence and Lauren Dellolio. They were kind to me, as far as I know they were kind to everyone, because despite how beautiful they were on the outside they knew it didn't give them a sense of entitlement to treat others like crap. Plus they both have really good hearts and anyone who knew/knows them would agree.
I was Josie Grosie in High School. Oily skin, chubby bordering on fat, frizzy or curly hair depending on the day, and a horrific fashion sense. I dated/commingled with people mostly 2 or 3 grades below me because to them I was somehow seen as cool. Imagine that concept. People in my grade knew better.
So Nyack High School gave me a daily dose for four years that because I wasn't spectacular in looks, sports, academics, or wealth I was a vile human being. I was bullied beyond belief both verbally and physically. Freshmen year, girls in my gym class broke into my gym locker and dragged my clothes threw the mud. And a boy in the same class filled my water bottle with toilet water. One boy in my English class emptied a completely full stapler into my hair.
Sophomore year was the year I was a fat bitch. In case one day I managed to gather a shred of self esteem, there was someone there to remind me "No, you're a fat bitch."
Junior year was when I hung out mostly with freshman. AND some of the freshman managed to bully me. Imagine the world I lived in where underclassman harassed an upperclassman. I was special alright. The happiest moment of my years at Nyack was when I was in Spain for 11 days away from all this bullshit. If you think this was exaggerated or in my head, I had several Spaniard students/host kids ask me why my classmates hated me so much. I honestly didn't know how to answer them. One popular kid from my school actually did tell me I was making in all up and she would personally invite me to parties to show me just how wrong I was. I got so excited, but Dina Gregory never did call or invite me to anything. Once again an elitist reminding me cruelly that I should know my role. And it wasn't just my peers that bullied me either. A particular Field Hockey coach, who has never cut a member from the team, almost didn't let me onto the team because I missed summer conditioning. My reason: I was helping out my religious school during a staff shortage. However he was willing to make an exception for the Ice Queen who skipped summer conditioning because she simply didn't know if she wanted to be on the team or not. Well the Coach let me on as a probationary gesture, then after weeks of busting my hump he gave me my own jersey. The next day he cut me. "Laura, you are one of the hardest working girls out here. You're always early, stay late, help out where ever needed and have a great positive attitude. But you lack talent and that's what really matters. I just don't have any room for you on the team." When I asked if I could play for the JV team because of how much I loved the game, he told me no. He also said not to even bother coming out next year. The next day he gave my jersey to a freshman. To top it off I was in his gym class all year long after that; daily reminder that even certain faculty members at Nyack didn't think I was good enough.
Senior year was the worst by far. I cut so much class that there was a possibility I wouldn't graduate. I was literally afraid to go to school. My Senior Spanish class had a brutal crew. Every time I opened my mouth they had something sharp to say about me/to me. I stayed home crying. One of the most popular beautiful girls had worked with me in summer camp the year before; a girl I had known since first grade. For the first time in years she was friendly to me. This of course was because none of her people were around to witness it. When school started back up she resorted back to her ice queen demeanor. I had to beg and plea my way into a limo for prom.
I repeatedly asked my parents for a transfer. I asked faculty members for help. Neither group of adults believed it was as bad as I made it out to be. Funny enough parents of classmates would often give me their condolences for the way I was treated.
So when I got wind that we're having a 10 year reunion, I actually consider for a moment that maybe I'll go. Maybe people have changed and grown, maybe just maybe even some of them regret what they put me through. Wrong again. I have Facebook to thank for glimpsing me into the lives of the people I once knew. Dina Gregory ignored my friend request, guess I really am NOT getting any party invites from her. Apparently there is a "Nyack High School" group on Facebook that is invite only, more than a decade later and I'm still not good enough. And the beautiful ice queen married a beautiful boy and together they have three beautiful children. When I told her just how beautiful her children were, her reply "I know."
So at eighteen when I wasn't smart, beautiful, thin, or cool enough....why would I be at twenty-eight? Why should I subject myself once again to a situation I barely survived the first time? I didn't go. The funny thing about bullies and the bullied is that the actual bullies move on from it all as if nothing ever happened while those who were bullied suffer years after the trauma. Besides reunions tend to just be a giant pissing contest over whose more successful both personally and professionally. No thanks.
About Me
- ElbieNy25
- "Scars are proof that we were brave enough to fight the battle and strong enough to survive it"-me 2008 Unfortunately/fortunately I have many scars from life, but I'm still here. I've been writing for over twenty years and just recently finished my first manuscript entitled "The Journey". I love peopl; they fascinate me with their stories, quirks, and mysterious ways.