I am not a huge fan of Sundays. That being said, I have many friends for whom that is their favorite day. They say that Sundays are the days they just relax and do whatever they like. I however disagree. Let's do some self-analysis as to why Sundays suck for me. My dad left our family on a Sunday. Whoa...how's that Freud?
I remember the day he left because I was still in my sunday church dress- white with tiny pink flowers, ruffled sleeves, white tights, and white patent leather shoes, which were pressed against my bedroom door, locking myself in from the outside world that included my father holding one of those small moving boxes with the last of his belongings.
As I sat, wedged between my wall and my bedroom door, I could hear my mother shouting, and kept thinking that was probably not the best tactic to take if we wanted him to stay. I heard our front door slam and sat there in silence as I wondered what was next. I don't remember much after that....afterall I was seven.
Fast forward a decade to the year 1997. I was 17 years old and was in a tumultuous on again, off again recapitulation of my mother and father's relationship with my first love- Marcus. Looking back on it, it was silly. I was a child. I loved this person like there was never going to be another. He treated me like any 17-20 year old boy would, and I took it.
Then one Sunday night, after returning from a trip to Chicago, he announced- "I'm moving to Chicago." I was devastated. I remember crying so hard and loud that I lost my voice. I remember my mother telling me that I needed to go anywhere but in her house because she did not want to hear my teenage angst anymore. I remember sitting in my 1988 honda civic and pounding the seats with rage. I remember wondering if anyone had actually died from crying too hard, and also thinking what sweet revenge that would be...How was this happening to me? How was I to go on? How could he leave me? and especially on a Sunday?
Growing up, Sundays were filled with picnics, playing outdoors, or dance/gymnastics lessons. Later, I was
required to do my homework, eat dinner, take a bath, and could watch a few hours of TV, which iusually ncluded the simpsons and married with children. I viewed Sundays as a downhill slope that I painstakingly dug my heels into each week. It signified the end of a fun and carefree weekend, and the impending doom of school, and later - work.
Living in LA, the weeks speed by so quickly, so Sundays have somewhat lost their sting. Yet, last night was one of those nights. One of the benefits of being in a relationship is that you have someone by your side, also facing the impending crash of Monday's tidal wave. I think someone once said, "a problem shared, is a problem halved." This is probably also the reason psychotherapy has been so effective for many...I digress.
Recently Mr. Butterflies and I have gotten in the habit of sharing Sundays together. I am not even quite sure what his take is on Sundays..He is an actor, and they usually don't go by the typical workweek. My guess is its probably just another day. In any case, Sundays are magically better with him. We don't do anything special in particular, they just are.
However, I spent yesterday alone. Instead of spending time with him, we engaged in a 12 hour text war, which started around 2 am that morning. After reconvening with each other after we had just been at separate halloween parties, I noticed his skin smelled like women's perfume. The smell was that of cheap drugstore perfume, so pungent and strong that it seemed to keep poking my shoulder and saying "come on, what you gonna do now?" I recoiled and looked at him, wondering what he had been up to in the hours leading up to this.
Instead of reassuring me that it was simply because he had hugged a lot of friends that happened to be girls at the party, he immediately began to go for his things and was out my door before I could gather what was happening. This to me translates as defensiveness. If one is innocent, there is not a need for defense? Yet, he maintained his innocence, and stated that he "does not do drama or jealousy." Doesn't storming out my door only ten minutes after he just arrived, constitute drama? Isn't that what all actors do -drama?
The next morning when I came to, all the events of the night started to resurface. I laid there wondering
what I could have done differently. Should I just have stifled myself, closed my eyes, and pretended I was making out with Sally O'Malley? I began to walk down the hall of shame that was the previous nights' texts- "ur pathetic," "u make stuff up in ur warped head," and my favorite, which was sent by yours truly "you could atleast have the decency to wash the whore off you before coming to my place." Classic. Right out of some cheesy 20's Harlequin novel. All I was missing was the 1920's Josephine Baker-esque accent.
I began to curse myself for drinking so much, and started to take a look inside, like how I imagined alcoholics might do right before they come to a meeting. I was given news about a car accident my friends were in the previous night, and like being shot out of a cannon, was able to take a step back and see how pathetic I was being. This was so small.
Immediately, I realized what was important and tried to call Mr. Butterflies. He did not pick up and so I texted for him to call me when he woke up. He responded "so that you can make up another story and wrongly accuse me- no thanks." Apparently he did not get the "there are more important things in life" memo that morning.
I busied myself by going to the farmer's market, working out, doing laundry, cleaning, painting my nails, reading, napping, and even organizing my bathroom cabinets. All thinly veiled attempts to avoid the inevitable- Sunday night - alone. As the sun set and night approached, the moon came out to watch how this was all gonna play out.
After receiving what was probably the 43rd text-pong that day, I picked up the phone and called him (why did I not do this earlier you ask? because when it comes to pride...im about as stubborn as it gets). I wanted to speak in person and he quickly dismissed me, saying "I'm going to bed." "Ok, what about tomorrow?" I pressed on. "I've got things to do all day, maybe Tuesday." He might as well drove the stake that was in my heart, in deeper with a swift kick. How could he wait another 48 hours to see me, when I felt like the next breath I took was dependent on the call's outcome? Ok, a little dramatic, but you get the point.
Now if you aren't convinced that I am one big hot mess by now, you will after reading the next sentence. I
booked a vacation for the both of us for his birthday which is approaching in a little over a week. Yes, that's right, one action packed, non-refundable holiday for two.
At the time I booked it, things were going really well. I felt like we were both on the same page and wanted the same things. I knew he was the type of guy that bought everything for himself as soon as he wanted it, and therefore would be hard to buy for. We had also talked about the possibility of going away together and both thought it would be fun. A vacation to a tropical paradise seemed like the next logical step.
The next logical step....for two people who both want to be in a relationship. My mistake was, I assumed he too wanted this relationship, and was just not keen on communicating that, or putting us "in the checkbox," as he liked to call it. What I didn't know, was that he was not on the same page. In fact, he said this little cherry "he enjoyed spending time with me," on my shit Sunday. The kiss of death as far as I'm concerned. This, combined with the following evidence that he was "just not that into me,":
-he's "just not that into you," if he immediately bolts as soon as you question him about smelling of women's perfume
-He's "just not that into you" if after getting in a falling out, he's not concerned when or if the issue will ever be resolved, or about seeing you for another 48 hours
- he's "just not that into you," if he goes to a Halloween party and doesn't care to take you with him, and later four different girls post pictures of them hugging 14 times on facebook
-he's "just not that into you" if he can go six days without realizing he hasn't seen you
- he's "just not that into you" if he would rather go to bed at 10 pm than see you, after you have offered to drive over to his place
- he's "just not that into you," if instead of graciously thanking you for putting time and money into such a thoughtful birthday gift, he begins to lecture you about the nature of his job, the life of being an actor, his plight and what a sacrifice taking five days off is going to be for him
So what the hell was I going to do about this trip? I certainly wasn't going to passively sit at home and
mope the following week, knowing I could be sipping some fruity drink while looking into a windex filled ocean. I also did not want to look like some lesbian alternative couple at a romantic resort with one of my girlfriends, and I certainly did not want to spend all week listening to my mom ask the hotel concierge about their security system, coupons, and where to find the best early bird specials.
I decided that there was exactly 11 days until said trip. If I spent that time clearing my head, cooling my jets, and approaching this relationship from a different perspective, it is possible that we could still do this. All I need to do is get my head in the place, where this is just a person that I have a lot of fun with, a lot of laughs with, great conversation that lasts for hours, and I also like to look at him and make out with him a lot. No different than a fun fling right? No expectations anymore, and I won't be disappointed. Right?
He agreed that he was still up for going, agreed that he was not in the same place as I was as far as wanting the same things and said it would take him much longer to get there, if ever. He told me that he doesn't validate me, or his feelings for me, or even the fact that he wants to be in an exclusive relationship by now because he doesn't feel those things and doesn't want to say things that aren't true to how he feels.
He added "it has only been three months, " and "three months are three minutes" to him. He told me that was all he could offer, like one of those beer-bellied, cowboy-hat-wearing, auctioneers at a used car lot, and shortly got off the phone. So there it was, I was now on my own in the relationship world, yet still with an approaching romantic vacation.
I sat on my porch looking at the cars racing by on the 101, the capitol records building, and the flashing
bottle of Patron. I wondered, "what the hell am I doing here? How did I get here?" I thought about where everyone on that highway was going. I wondered how they managed to find their place in LA. I wondered if I ever would, or if my expectations for a relationship were never going to be met in a city of people who lie for a living (actors).
I pictured myself still sitting on that porch at 74 with an actual bottle of patron in my hand and cat ramps and scratching posts stretched about throughout my apartment.
I woke my mom up in Japan and she immediately knew from my voice that something was not right. The floodgates opened, and I began my woe is me monologue for the next 25 minutes. She agreed with me, that regardless of all his arguments and rationalizations behind his behavior- it all added up to a conclusion I already really knew- he's just not as into me, as I need him to be.
Isn't it funny, how we tell ourselves these lies to perpetuate something that we silently know is a bigger lie? I mean, if I was one of my patients and I came in and talked about Mr. Butterflies behavior, or lack thereof, Dr. Colleen would tell me to grow a spine and hit the road.
Yet, there is still that little girl part of me, who wants to believe in the fairy tale. There is that part that wants to believe that this guy is different than 99.7% of most men and just has a very unique and different way of showing he cares. I'm pretty sure this is the rationale that all women live by to avoid reading between the lines.
Earlier that night, I watched the New Year's Eve episode of "How I Met Your Mother," where Lily tells Marshall that she has to go home and change out of her heels and that she will meet back up with him before the clock strikes 12. He becomes visibly upset and is fearful that they won't spend NYE together. She reassures him and then skips out from their limo into a cab. How different a dynamic I thought? She is certain that this guy cares about her, and her biggest concern is getting out of too tight shoes.
Compare that to my situation, where I felt scared each time to even bring a concern up for fear that Mr. Butterflies would
immediately fly away. Although fictional, there are relationships like Lily and Marshall's where each one knows the other will keep coming round the next day, because they are secure with how each other feels. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm trying to hold on to water.
It's like the difference between the first and second marriage. Take Lisa Hartwell from "Housewives of Atlanta," (yes I realize I watch entirely too much television, but some issues just are meant to be resolved folks). Her first marriage was to Keith Sweat. He was verbally and emotionally abusive. Her second marriage was to Ed Hartwell, an NFL linebacker. This guy spent an entire day cooking for her, and wrote "I love you," with rose petals. Like most women in their second marriage, she traded excitement for security.
I think the trick must be giving up on the fairy tale and going for reality the first time. Although there won't be any thrill as you hear the tick-tick of the roller coaster's hill, there will also never be those steep drops that plummet you to misery and make you feel like the wind has been knocked out of you.
Relationships are supposed to make you feel good. A healthy relationship allows for communication, both good and bad, without one person fearing that the other person will leave. In a healthy relationship, two people should be able to go out without each other and not have any concern or jealousy about what the other is doing.
Mr. Butterflies still maintains that this is my "issue" from my ex and that it has nothing to do with him. It is possible that this is now an issue for me. When I once believed people were innocent until proven guilty, maybe now its the other way around, or maybe not. Could it be that I just don't trust him, because I can read between the lines? Could it be that because of his actions, and the number one indicator- he has never said he is only with me. ding ding ding, that I may have some trust issues?
Regardless if this is baggage, his inability to open up after three months is clearly the only baggage he has room for in this relationship. To top it all off, as if dangling a carrot in front of me, he says "oh I was so close if you would have just left it alone, but you pushed me 'back' again." Go back to the start. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
As I sit here and find that I've lost another round in this game of life- I still believe there is nothing more tragic than a person who has crusted over and closed themselves off to the world. Even in my sadness and pain, I still know that in time- I will make myself open again. No matter how many times I get kicked in the gut, I will continue to put myself out there, again and again. Because all we've got is each other. I believe that the universe is all about love and interconnectedness- that's all that truly matters in this life, and really the only thing you can take away from it when you leave. You can't wait until you feel you know someone 100% to decide if you're going to give yourself completely to them and participate in an actual relationship, that is the very essence of a relationship- getting to know the other person...How sad that Mr. Butterflies won't get that opportunity.
"Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." - William Shakespeare
So there, you have it. I write these posts for two reasons: (1) its incredibly therapeutic for me to write as well as thumb through the electronic pages of my life and the lessons I've learned, and (2) I realize that there are many people, both men and women, who are struggling with their own relationship issues. Its my aim to be as candid and honest as possible to show that even someone who has a doctorate in human behavior and is supposed to "have it all together," still trips on life's obstacles....oh and (3) because my mom always says "write it down" ;)
Presentation- This person is used to functioning with many tenants. You are torn between the excitement of being an occupant and the fear of an eviction notice, at any minute. His facilities are thrilling and welcoming, yet if you question his operation or his other tenants, he can become hostile, defensive, and accusatory.
And now I'll let the Daves take it from here....
David Gray: Say Hello Wave Goodbye
Standing at the door of the pink Flamingo
Crying in the rain
It was a kind of so so love,
and I'm gonna make sure it doesn't happen again.
You and I had to be the standing joke of the year.
You were a run around,
a lost and found.
and not for me I feel.
Take your hands off me, please
I don't belong to you, you see.
Take a look in my face, for the last time.
I never knew you., you never knew me.
Say hello, goodbye.
Say hello and wave goodbye.
We tried to make it work, you in a cocktail skirt.
And me in a suit, and it just wasn't me.
You're used to wearing less, and now your life's a mess.
So insecure you seem.
I put up with all the scenes,
this is one scene,
that’s goin to be played my way
Take your hands off me, please
I don't belong to you, you see.
Take a look in my face, for the last time.
I never knew you., you never knew me.
Say hello, goodbye.
Say hello and wave goodbye.
Say hello and wave goodbye.
Under the deep red light,
I can see the make up sliding down.
Well hey little girl, you will always make up
So take off that unbecoming frown.
As for me well, I'll find some one
who's not going cheap in the sales.
A nice little house wife, who'll give me a steady life.
And not keep going off the rails.
Take your hands off me, please
I don't belong to you, you see.
Take a look in my face, for the last time.
I never knew you., you never knew me.
Say hello, goodbye.
Dave Matthews: Grace is Gone
Excuse me please, one more drink
Could you make it strong
Cause I don't need to think
He broke my heart
My grace is gone
One more drink and I'll move on
One more drink and I'll be gone

up and look amazing way. She has the body of a dancer and also happens to be really freaking cool. The guy that she is pursuing looks like he could do stand-in for Adam Duritz.
Here is my theory as to how this hybrid species came into existence. LA is a land known for its magnetic draw of the most beautiful people around the world. Becoming large fish in their small towns, they begin to feel that maybe their interests might be better served, moving to a larger pond- LA. However, they soon realize that although they were once 9's in their small communities, maybe now they have been bumped to a 6 by LA standards. If their entire ego/self-worth has been built on something as flimsy as "being pretty," then their self-esteems can easily crumble in the face of staunch competition.
scratching, and farting while watching TV, and live with their moms (recall Will Ferrell's character "Chazz" in Wedding Crashers). So then you get a guy who has an over-inflated sense of self that then meets someone like my girlfriend. While she is also beautiful, she has other characteristics that give her substance. She is a phenomenal dancer. She has an Ivy League education. She has a wicked sense of humor. So you can imagine she might be a bit thrown off when someone like him rebuffs her...maybe even a little intrigued.
Presentation: This new species of man has evolved out of an excess of available women who have created an inflated sense of worth within him. This event has brought him to the idea that he must throw away the 8's, keep the 9's on hold, and wait for his deserved perfect 10...because after all, who wouldn't want to sit by and cook him dinners while he plays endless hours of Halo, shouting at 12 year old boys from different parts of the world (he's so well cultured...)??
link. After clicking on it, a girl's facebook page appeared along with hundreds of well-wishes and prayers. The "lie" that I was 100% sure he was using as a cover for his major slip-up became my major slip-up in an instant. I felt like I wanted to vomit. I looked at her face and realized there was really a person who lost their mother and I was too entrenched in my own baggage to even recognize it.
So, there you have it. I was so sure of my hunch that I was willing to let
Being single has its advantages...you can go out with whomever you like, you can come in whenever you like with no one to answer to, you can do crazy stuff to your hair without worrying whether the other person will approve or disapprove, and you can generally maintain all the high points of budding relationships (going out to dinner, seeing a movie, holding hands, first kiss, butterflies in the stomach) without having to endure the lows ("we have to go to my 3rd cousin's nephew's sister in law's stepdaugthers bat mitzvah this saturday," or trying to mentally block out a chorus of snoring that seems to be aggressively unrelenting and almost taunting you, saying "you'll have to listen to me for the rest of your life.")
Being the hypochondriac/google-symptoms-finder-and-diagnose-myself- afficionado that I am, I wisely used my wait time in my car to try and figure out why I was feeling like this. After typing in "chills, fatigue, lower back pain, and fever," I diagnosed myself with a Kidney infection. Not great...but better than my original suspicion- Avian flu.
I watched some TV while they looked at my blood and tried to figure out what was wrong with me. I was watching entertainment tonight, but thought better of it and changed it to CNN. In case I checked out, I wanted the report to read, "she transitioned peacefully watching recaps of the G20 summitt in Pittsburgh vs. she died watching an exclusive interview with Jon from 'Jon and Kate Plus Eight." In the end, it was found I had a kidney infection. I was given some IV drugs and released within a few hours. I was sent home with some motrin, antibiotics, and a strengthened perspective of the important things in life.
You must listen to this.....Really?
As I was plummeting through the forests of Mt. Fuji today, I realized zip-lining, is a lot like dating. With zip lining, you are always navigating foreign terrain in hopes of getting to a high enough point so that you can get all the butterflies that come with falling. As you try to get from one point to the next, ropes are constantly twisting and turning on you, challenging you to compensate with your entire repertoiry of strengths. If one muscle doesn't work- you try the next. It's a lot like dating. If one of your character strengths is not valued, you try out the next one and see if that works..."Hmmm..he doesn't seem to get my dry sense of humor, let's see if he's in to politics..
I am writing this blog from the orient as I am visiting my brother and his family in Tokyo. I did not think I would be doing much blogging while here but after marinating in my cultural observations for the past few days, its simmered into a boil...

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