Until love happens to me

K...so I'm trying to cheer up. Trying to get out of this icky place I've been in.

And I get a call.

Yep...another engagement.

Now, please, please, please don't get me wrong. I'm so happy for them. They are two very beautiful people, two very deserving people and I'm so, so glad that they found each other. I knew they'd end up together long before either of them knew it, and I'm so happy that they're in love and engaged...

BUT...I can't help thinking, when is it my turn?

Now, in all honesty, if I was just looking for a ring, I could have had that by now, but it's not just the ring I want. I want it all. I want the butterflies and the giggles and the comfort and even the hard times...because I know that with my guy, even the not so good times will be special and loving and will help make us stronger...

But until then, I wait...and I wonder...and I wish on stars and throw pennies in wishing wells. I cross my fingers on every first date and say a little prayer before he picks me up, because I want him to be The One. I want him to be my Prince Charming.

And I guess I'll keep doing that until love happens to me.

Un-lost

I just want to cry.

No, wait...I don't want to cry. I don't want to cry ever again.

I want to never feel anything again...or at least for a little while.

And I know...you don't have to remind me...I realize that if I block out the bad emotions, I block out the good ones, too. But honestly folks, the good ones have been few and far between lately.

Mom, if you read this...this doesn't make me depressed or bipolar or whatever else Dr. Phil might say I am.

I'm just fed up.

I don't want to be this way. I want to quit faking happiness and feel it.

So the question is why am I unhappy?

Because I'm not satisfied in any part of my life.

Because I feel so alone I can't stand it.

Because I don't know where I'm headed and I sure as hell don't know how to get there.

I'm insecure, I'm sad, I'm impatient, I'm fussy, I'm ready to quit, I'm lonely, I'm hurt, I'm not enough...I'm lost...

And I don't know how to be un-lost...

Until the circus comes to town

That's it.
I quit.

Remember when I talked about running away to the circus? I mean it this time.

I want out.

This isn't fair. I'm standing here stomping my foot and getting nothing.

Someone please tell me why in the hell I attract the freaks that I attract. Is there a sign on my forehead that says "Make a Fool out of THIS Girl"!?!?!? Or how about, "Nice Girl-Screw Her Over-She'll Like It...A LOT!!"

Where have all the cowboy's gone? And yes, I'm aware that that's a song...but really....where IS my John Wayne? Where's the guy that's gonna sweep in...whisk me away...and mean every word he says to me? Does that happen? Is that for real? Becuase, while I know that not all men suck...the majority of the ones I encounter do...make it stop.

I'm serious. Someone give me the secret to relationship success. Someone tell me where my prince charming is, cuz I'm tired of looking.

I'm going into hibernation until the circus comes to town...then I'm outta here...

I'm

I'm restless.

I don't know where I'm going...and even if I did, I'm not sure I'd know how to get there.

I'm antsy.

I want what I want and dammit I want it now.

I'm impatient.

I want to know how my fairy tale ends...hell...I just want to know if I HAVE a fairy tale.

I'm scared.

I'm not sure I know how to date...how to fall in love...how to open up again, and I'm not sure I want to.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of reluctantly getting my hopes up just to have them come crashing down in a burning heap at my feet.

I'm unhappy.

Well, only slightly...but I don't know how to fix it.

I'm feeling so many emotions and I have no idea what to do with them. I don't know which ones are ones I can fix and which ones I just have to deal with and get through.

I'm lost.

You didn't raise a feminist, daddy

So, I might have had a minor crying episode yesterday. But let me tell you why, I'm sure you'll understand.

As much as C pretends to hate me, I'm pretty sure there's deep love in there somewhere, because yesterday he informed me that there was a knot on my front passenger tire. And I'm truly thankful to C, because I never look at my tires...especially not the passenger ones.

So, anyway, I call daddy.

After we determine that my spare isn't a full-size tire, daddy tells me to go get a new one.
But that's all Daddy tells me.

Go get a new tire.

Sure, that sounds easy enough.

So I head into a tire store...a well known one...and this vertically challenged Don Juan wanna be decides I'm his next customer.

Yay.

He tells me that apparently my car needs an uncommon tire size and quotes me a price just shy of my first-born child...even my limited tire knowledge tells me that this isn't a great price. And besides, Don Juan's mini me is kinda freaking me out.

So, I step outside and call daddy and relay all of this information to him.

He makes me repeat myself several times and concludes Don Juan and his cronies are trying to hose the cute girl looking for a tire.

And then daddy starts asking questions I didn't know I needed answers to. Apparently my precious papa forgot that, even though I'm a super cool chick who loves football and hunting and what-not, tires aren't exactly my specialty.

So daddy tells me to leave the mean tire place and he'll try to find me a new one.

Great. Except that he's four hours away from me and according to the tire experts I talked to, having a knot on your tire and continuing to drive is a little hazardous.

So I start calling around and find AJ at another tire store.

AJ is amazing.

AJ doesn't have my tire, but he says he'll order it for me. And when I go see AJ about getting my new tire, he is genuinely concerned for my safety (and super adorable, by the way) and reminds me several times to drive safely and watch the wounded tire until he can get my new one here.

So then I call daddy again. And tell him all this. And he can tell that I'm fussy, but he doesn't understand why.

So I explain it to him.

I'm all alone here. And I need a male person to help me do this boy stuff. I don't know what the mean tire people mean when they say certain things, I don't know the right questions to ask, I don't know the right people to see...I just don't know a damned thing about tires.

And daddy says that this is how he's teaching me. He says I'm an independent career woman and that I'm learning to be self-sufficient and blah blah blah.

And I tell daddy that's not what I want. I don't want to be an independent career woman. I want someone to take care of me. I want someone to go get my damned tire for me when the one I have breaks. I want someone to chase away the mean tire people and take care of all of that boy stuff for me.

"After all," I say, "you didn't raise a feminist, daddy."

I'm guilty

I'm guilty.

I've been giving relationship advice to others, believing with all my heart that what I'm telling them is true...and I haven't been practicing my own good medicine.

So yes, my friends, I'm guilty.

I'm guilty of worrying about things that I can't change.

I'm guilty of asking "what if" one too many times.

I'm guilty of asking why, of demanding too much information...or at least wanting to...I try to keep pretty good tabs on that one.

I'm guilty of waiting for the phone to ring and being heartbroken when it doesn't.

I'm guilty of breaking rules...and sometimes hearts ;)

I'm guilty of being insecure, confused and sometimes a little lost.

I'm guilty of knowing what I should do, and doing the exact opposite.

So, really, you'd think by now I'd learn. I've witnessed my relationship issues and the relationship issues of my friends...and as an outsider, it all seems so clear. The answers are black and white, but when it's me...when it's my emotions on the line...it gets a little fuzzy...and I'm trying to fix it, I swear I am...it's just a little difficult, because when I want something, I want it now...

So, yeah, I'm guilty...lock me away...

I hung the moon, but does it look crooked to you?

I hung the moon.

On October 2, 1982, I hung the moon.

If you don't believe me, just ask my parents.

To them, I am perfect. And I don't mean perfect as in flawless. No, they recognize my flaws...in fact, they're usually the first ones to point them out to me. But they're also the first ones to help correct them...or at least mask them.

They know that I'm a little anal sometimes. They know that I have WAY too many rules when it comes to my relationships with others. They know that I worry about everything. They know that I'm impatient. They know that I hate to fold laundry and that I get cranky when I haven't had enough sleep.

And they still think I've hung the moon...

I am the single most important thing to them. And really, they're the most important things in my life, too. I've said this before, but I'm a lucky girl. God gave me to two beautiful, smart, funny, amazing people and I want to make them proud. It's a huge driving force behind everything I do.

And really, after you've hung the moon, it's pretty hard to top it. It's darn hard to beat that, but I try. I want them to be proud of who I am and what I stand for. I want them to be able to look at me and see a job well done.

I want them to see my life and my relationships and realize that I've modeled everything in my life after my parents.

But sometimes, I wonder if that's what I'm doing. Am I making them proud? Is this where they wanted me to end up? Is this the journey they wanted me to travel?

I know that if I asked them, they'd tell me that all I've ever done is make them proud. That I'm their baby girl and they think I'm perfect.

So, yeah, I hung the moon...but does it look crooked to you?