Tag Archives: love

Ahhhh…Unrequited Love

It’s a funny thing to be in love.  It means that you overlook the little things because you see the person beneath it all and are willing to accept the little things as the quirks that make them unique.  It’s those things that make you love them even more.

I had just turned 18 and started working at one of the many resorts on Cape Cod.  This was one of the more posh resorts, one of the top three when you think about luxury resorts on Cape Cod.  I had a measly little job working in housekeeping doing laundry (which is why I can fold a perfectly square fitted sheet and make my towels in the bathroom look like a hotel).

I quickly made friends with the set of kids who had worked there the year before.  They were fun, they were rebels compared to what I had been.  They partied, like with booze and cigarettes, not like my old friends who had X-Files parties where we dressed up like our favorite characters.  Since that summer was the summer before freshman year of college, I figured what the hell.  Let’s party.

Yep, it was just like the Pink Ladies!

Yep, it was just like the Pink Ladies!

Over time I started to fall hard for one of the guys.  I went off to college but I was determined to stay in touch.  So, I did.  I would call (this was just before everyone had a cell phone) hang out when I went home on weekends, make sure we stayed in touch.

It was quite futile though on my part all for the simple fact that he was gay.

Unrequited-Love

A lot happened over five years of “friendship.”  I had friends, his friends –  I had people who accepted me and loved me.  We were like a little family.  There were four of us at one point who were thick as thieves.  He and I became so very close and it was nice to have someone who was just so nice to me and was not a jerk. Even though there was a line of people fawning over him, I didn’t care, I was on the inner circle.  It felt good.

Then I started making some really bad decisions, the kind that really bring someone to the bottom of the barrel.  I stopped even looking for anything or anyone else.  There were those conversations of “if we’re not married by x years old, we’ll do it and have kids.”  It was probably just talk but at the time, I took it as gospel.  Though he dated other people, had flings with friends, I was convinced that there was love still in this friendship, after all, there had been a small fling with a woman mixed in there.  I held out hope.  Letting my head get all cloudy, holding out for this one person.  It was kind of crazy.  Ok, it was totally crazy.

Eventually, the friendship had a massive meltdown.  Completely and utterly imploded.  I was devastated.  I had already lost one of the friends in a not so great way (though thanks to Facebook, we have reconnected and it’s good to see she’s doing pretty darn well for herself!), I was a complete mess after losing this one.

unrequited love

After a long time of playing songs like Untouchable Face (if you’re offended by the language in this one – sorry), Superhero, and a lot of Vertical Horizon (the early stuff),  I realized that it was probably for the best.

Had that not happened, I wouldn’t have gone back to school.  I wouldn’t have moved on and actually started living my life again.  I found someone who loved me.  It was a blessing in disguise.

This post was written as part of the February 2013 NaBloPoMo Series.  This month’s theme is Love and Sex.  Today’s prompt was “How old were you the first time you fell in love?”

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A 4-year Old’s Marriage Proposal

I don’t really remember much of it, but the story still surfaces on occasion.  I was four years old and in preschool.  Being almost five, I knew what I liked and at the time I liked Jack (Names have been changed for rather obvious reasons).

I honestly couldn’t tell you why Jack was the one for me, but I was convinced that he was the one.  The group of us that were in that preschool together were friends (even if we may have grown apart) all the way from preschool through high school and thanks to Facebook, most of us are reconnected there.  Funny how growing up in a small town creates such strong ties to people who shared the same experiences.  At any rate…

One day, I mustered up the courage, while standing in line for bathroom breaks, to ask Jack to marry me.  It took a lot of courage for me to ask him but I was certain he would say yes.  How could he not say yes?

I don’t remember his exact response but I remember telling his mother (our teacher) that Jack wouldn’t marry me.  She assured me that someday he might change his mind.  Then from the other room, you could hear a little voice shout “Oh no I won’t!”

After I got over the shock of being rejected which probably took all of five seconds at that young age , I managed to live a very fulfilling life and so did he.

Crushes are funny like that.  Whether you work up the courage to tell them or just let them simmer until you move on, there’s always some part that sticks in your memory and makes you smile at the innocence of it all.  I would be lying though, if I said I was looking forward to the Daughter’s first crush.  I have a feeling it will be a roller coaster!

This post is part of the February 2013 NaBloPoMo series.  This month’s theme is Love and Sex.  Today’s prompt was “Tell us about your first crush.”  Do you remember yours?

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Three Words

There are three words that are not said enough.  Even if you say them regularly, it’s not enough.

As I work on getting back on track with myself and my weight loss journey, I realize that there are so many other motivations here than just me feeling pretty for once in my life.  Being overweight has so many bad side effects.  Aside from the aesthetics and questionable styled clothing for us fat women, there are increased risks on almost every medical front.

overweight_problems

High Blood Pressure. Arthritis.  Gall Bladder Disease.  Cancer.  Heart Disease. Stroke. Type 2 Diabetes.  Sleep Apnea.

All of those things linger in the wings, waiting.  Some have already happened to me and now is the time to make sure none of the more serious ones happen.

There was a point where I would sometimes wonder about the next morning.  I’m too young to wonder those kinds of things but that’s how badly I felt I neglected myself.  Would the people I love know I felt that way if that next morning didn’t come?  Would they have heard me say it enough?

Right after my Nana and then my Aunt passed away, I kept thinking about how I didn’t say those words to them enough.  They just weren’t the type to say it that much.  You knew they loved you but it wasn’t something that was just openly said on a regular basis.  I couldn’t help but feel guilty, especially after my aunt died, that I didn’t tell them enough that I loved them.  I felt guilty that I didn’t call her more often to just catch up.

say i love you

With the Daughter, I tell her all the time.  I mean all the time. When she wakes up, when she gets her breakfast, when I drop her off at school, when I get home from work, all the time.  The husband ends every form of communication with those three words.  I tell my Mom.  I even say it to my brothers sometimes, but I think they think it’s a little weird.

The point is this.  Say those three words and mean them.  We never know when our time is up.  We never know when we’ll get another chance to say them so say them whenever you can.  Mean every one of those three words.  Feel the words.  Know their truth and make sure that those who love you know it too.

When was the last time you said those three words?

This post is part of the February 2013 NaBloPoMo.  The theme for February is “Love and Sex.”  Today’s prompt was “When was the last time you said, ‘I love you.’?”  Just remember they are powerful words so do not use them lightly.

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What do I Want to Be When I Grow Up?

I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.  I don’t know that I will know any time soon either.  There are so many things that I thought I wanted to be when I grew up. A journalist sounded fun but for some reason, I didn’t pursue that one. Even for career day back in fourth grade, I didn’t really know what to dress up as and I kept changing my mind from lawyer to doctor to whatever else popped into my little 9 year old head.

That indecision carried on for quite some time.  I went off to college thinking that I would become a world traveler, an international business woman spending half my time between Paris and New York.  Then I took microeconomics for the Economics major.  Yeah, right.

Then I thought maybe I would get into the hotel world.  I did for a while and I liked it.  Then life began to happen to me, layoffs, job switches, a child.

I felt like my head had been spun around like a tilt-a-whirl and now it was time for me to get off the ride.

Then Friday happened.

I can’t stop thinking about the dreams of those who are now lost.  I can’t stop thinking about what they would have grown to become.  I look at my own daughter and find myself just sad.

I know that I want to be a compassionate person.  I know that I want to be loved and to give love.  I know that I want to know happiness and joy.  I know that I want to learn from the sorrow and grief.  I know that I want to work toward a better world for the Daughter.   I know that when I grow up, I want to show kindness, true kindness, to those I meet.  I know that when I grow up, I want to remember Friday and make it the event that keeps me cognoscente  of my loved ones and how important it is to tell them I love them.

I guess I do know what I want to be when I grow up, I just didn’t realize I knew.  It was never a profession.  It was to just grow up to be a good person.

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