Basically if people are good to one another and do not have malicious intent then I’m ok with any relationship structure. Speaking to my ideology, any expression of love is inherently positive. Expressing attraction or appreciation for another human being (with consent, appropriate age, etc.) is at its root a good thing. I think when you try to carry on a relationship secretly or mislead another person that is when the situation becomes hurtful and wrong in my opinion. In my mind, long term cheating is a symptom of a larger problem in the relationship or a person. I think what people in non-traditional relationships convey is an open and honest expression of affection that meets their and their partner’s needs. In which case, who are we to judge?

American’s are ridiculously judgmental, unrealistic, and prudish when it comes to sexual politics or morality. When you trap that sexual energy into a politicized, ‘holier than thou’ environment, people get on their soap boxes and start preaching about wrong and right. In a country where over 50% of marriages end in divorce and the majority of us come from ‘broken’ families, it’s time to look around and realize that the ‘perfect’ family does not exist. The ‘perfect’ relationship never existed and the basic revelation that ‘it takes hard work’ is something we already knew and nothing to publish as new thought.

Overwhelmingly Americans are just lazy. To overcome an affair or willful indiscretion takes time, patience, love, and a lot of work. I do not think it is impossible. Europeans are more understanding of flaws in their mates because they do not expect them to be perfect. It is a lot easier in a country where the basic necessities of life are not always guaranteed to appreciate someone for who they are even if they make mistakes. America is a disposable society. If something breaks, we throw it out and buy new. We don’t fix things. We don’t wait it out. We chuck it to the side and find something different. We don’t want to work it out, we assume it will be easier if we start with someone new and demand instant gratification.

The reason people enjoy meeting online, open relationships, and the like is because they don’t want to do the work. It takes a lot to meet and pursue a ‘mate.’ Typically at the end of that pursuit, most people are not in a place where they are ready to commit. They like dating and don’t want to be alone but they realize there are a ton of options out there. In addition to the affordability of travel, access to the internet, and the many opportunities there are in a day to meet someone new, why settle down? This is in many ways a new development because our grandparent’s generation typically grew-up, got a job, met a spouse, had kids, and died in the same twenty mile radius. And if you left where you came from, there was usually one major move and then you spent the rest of you days in that place. Now with so many options and opportunities if you don’t like where you are you can leave. Why wouldn’t we use the same logic in our relationships?

As for my life, I am a romantic but I’ve also been in a lot of messy relationships. So I know that I can forgive pretty much anything and I will stay longer and work harder than is good for me. I can and have dated multiple people at the same time which is entertaining but not really satisfying. At the end of the day, I want someone that truly knows me. Someone I can relate to intellectually, emotionally, and physically. If that lasts forever I would be happy, if it doesn’t I would be happy to have had the experience to learn from. I don’t expect someone to be perfect but I do expect them to try to do things with a loving heart. I want to be able to depend on someone to work as hard as I do toward a common goal and being open to changes in that goal. I like the concept of ‘partners’ someone who is in equal parts responsible for the relationship. And if that’s what people in open or non-traditional relationships have, more power to them.

I know I’m drunk because I’m cuddling with the dog on the floor. Whispering sweet nothings in her ear, collapsed on the kitchen floor. Nevermind that the kitchen is the first room I enter when I walk into the apartment. It is also the coldest, most uncomfortable place in the house. A place I would choose not to snuggle in on any other occasion. But after a night out or an early happy hour, I find myself spooning the puppy seconds after entering the door.

When I’m drinking I don’t always know for sure if; I’m ok to drive, the girl I’m making out with is really a 10, or my jokes are that funny. But at the end of the night if I’m on the floor with the dog, I know there is an unequivocal answer to the question, “Are you ok?” And that is, “Nope, I’m definitely hammered.”

Of course snuggling a beloved pooch is always wonderful. But whispering sweet nothings and intermittently crying about the current state of affairs in my life is a give away.

Currently my life not as lovely as one would think. Not that things are bad, per se, but they are challenging enough to warrant burying my face in a matted furry mess of pool soaked hair and summer dog smell. It’s not exactly terrible but then again it isn’t really pleasant either.

At least it gives me a direct answer. There is no questioning where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing when my wife walks out of the living room to find me passed out in front of the refrigerator spooning the dog and not in bed where I told her I’d meet her 20 minutes ago.

In other news, things that are unpleasant to wake up to in this state include; the view of what exactly is under your fridge and cupboards, the hysterical laughter of your spouse, and a cold puppy nose…Anywhere. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that all manners of reaching wakefulness at this juncture are completely unpleasant and should be avoided at all costs. Therefore, I hereby resolve to attempt to make it at least to the couch for future late night cuddle sessions with the puppy.

I have dated great men. I have dated sub-par men. I have dated the fantastic and I have dated the average. Most recently it is the average man that seems to preoccupy my musings. Not that I am unhappy or lonely or missing the sweet mediocre loving. In fact I am satisfied with where I am; personally, sexually, and socially. I don’t need him but for some odd reason, I do miss him.

The average man made no sense for me. He and I shared very little in our interests or lives and yet we were drawn to one another. I don’t understand it and thankfully I won’t ever have to do that. Unfortunately I will need to get to the bottom of why he keeps popping into my head when all I want to do is move on and forget him. I can’t say that I didn’t love him, him and his lame if not semi-fantastic group of friends. I loved that man for so many “god-only-knows” reasons. I stopped loving him for the same, and maybe that’s the part that isn’t true.

I didn’t stop loving him, he stopped loving me. The average man who really should have been thanking God, Allah and the cracker jack company for getting my attention and for dating me decided he didn’t love me anymore. A month later, he changed his mind, realized he loved me and that I was perfect but I had already moved on.

I moved on but I did not let go of the anger or resentment I felt for him choosing someone, something else or other than me to make him happy. Sure he came crawling back to beg forgiveness, blah blah blah. Ever notice how chivalry is completely dead until a man wants something from you? Typically this is sex, other times it’s a free meal. Trust me. Either way he had a lot of really profound, powerful and inspiring things to say. Things that I was quite proud, relieved, and happy to hear – still not enough to convince me to take him back. Unfortunately, I felt what he wanted was another easy lay and to continue the fucked up together not together dance.

Whether that was the honest truth or not, I’ll never know I suppose. I do know that he wanted what I could no longer give him. The average man waited too long and I had met a man, a man that is all the things he wasn’t and will most likely never be. The man I am with is extraordinary.

I’m dating a new guy and I feel as if he’s trying to own me. To belong in my life or to become so entrenched in my day to day living that I am incapable of existing without him. What is it about me that brings out the batty in men?

They are independent, free thinking and competent people. They excel in professional careers, sports, and in competitive conversations and yet they fall to pieces with me. They want me to coddle them, hold them, love them. As if it’s suddenly my job to make it better, nurse wounds, and be everything. I have to be with them, for them, and somewhere they can hide.

I don’t know why it is, I don’t know how it happens. I just know that it drives me crazy. I need space; I need the freedom to freak out on my own. The opportunity to spend my time doing nothing and being alone is not a luxury, it is a requirement.

I typically seek out partners who initially do not require constant affirmation. I appreciate individuals who are capable of creating, building, and living a life on their own – read, without me.

I don’t want to be someone’s everything. I want to be the partner, the better half but definitely capital O – Other. I do not want to be just an extension of you, to be the only female semblance in your life. I want to be a column in the arcade not the shingles. It’s as though men loose themselves in me. And it’s not fair, I already have have a Me. I want to be there but I don’t want to be all there is, I need to miss a man to appreciate when he’s here.

Fireflies dance in and out of the porch light on an endless summer night that feels like yesterday, even though yesterday was Christmas. Memories are funny like that; I can remember what never was more than most of my recent history. Like carolers at my door serenading in the season…really happened. Or that dance in the moonlight with the perfect man…never was. There’s so much to have in this life and yet I want to dream up more, create something else, something better than reality can offer. I can and do make the dreams. I manufacture a reality. Those that I choose not to share, I keep in my journal. Because imagining a perfect dream is oftentimes much sweeter than it could be in life. Perfect memories are most often those of the land of never was than the actual past.

What is wonderful is that each day is an opportunity to live closer to that dream. To imagine something better and possibly try something new that changes your life is a worthy purpose. I’m not sure if tomorrow will be like yesterday’s Christmas morning or if next week I’ll be dreaming of a better today. What I know and what I remember are unimportant because what will be is always changing. Where I am today does not determine where I can go tomorrow. I can build on an old foundation or start anew on a fresh plot of land. I am fortunate to have my imagination to guide my thoughts, many of us give it up long before we really need it.

I am a flirt. I have tendency to flirt with every man in the room. This makes for some great stories, wild adventures, and the assurance that my glass is never empty.  At first this sounds like a fairly excellent plan. However, when one is occupying their time seducing the room and not any one individual, two things occur. No single man feels special and therefore none pursue me because each assumes I am interested in the other. The second factor is that no man is given the opportunity to seduce me. In fact, it is the antithesis to all potential future dating. What I do is harmless and entertaining and yet it brings only temporary satisfaction and typically results in failed emotional connections.

If all men in the room are seduced equally they each assume they are nothing remarkable or special and do not pursue. If they believe they actually have a chance they put forth effort. This can be entertaining. But inevitably they cancel each other out. I cannot devote all of my time to a single person when attempting to seduce an entire room. What is wonderful is that this arrangement is satisfactory both to myself and the men involved. In worst case scenario no one involved is misled or harmed by this tame interaction.

Each man gets to a point of endearing closeness, but inevitably we have not reached real intimacy. As all the men in the room have been buying drinks, dancing, and putting their best show on, I am guaranteed to have a great night. I am also guaranteed to not be tempted to go home with any of them. I have given none of them the opportunity to woo me specifically and have led none of them to believe that have been seduced by them specifically. Therefore my attachment is to the attention and the show, not to the individual. They are not given the emotional commitment of a long conversation but rather enjoy lighthearted party banter. This can be exciting and enjoyable for both myself and the men involved. However it is not conducive to producing an adult relationship.

If everyone is kept at a comfortable distance no one truly gets to know each other. This was developed as a basic act of self-preservation on my part. It assures that I am always wanted more and never known well enough to be hurt. To learn this dance has taken years of precision, development, and obviously trial and error. I have been hurt in fact many of my past relationships consisted of little else. Typically this happens because the personality I portray and the individual that I really am are two very different people.

I am able to be the life of the party and turned on, so to speak, when there is an opportunity or need. In my day to day life I enjoy spending my time quiet, relaxed, and actually would rather go to dinner and a movie than a fundraising event. At parties and dinners I prefer my date to take the lead. I enjoy making sassy commentary to the person next to me but want the spotlight on the people I am with rather than myself. This makes dating difficult because typically the people who are drawn to the party persona want me to be that focal point. These men want me to pursue them and want to be taken care of in the relationship.

I go through a number of long and drawn out break-ups because I can and do interchange between the two personalities. Once the party is over and I am comfortable being my quieter self. A person who enjoys a boisterous and outgoing woman is usually less attracted to me as a mild mannered and more conservative woman. This is not a fantastic revelation. What can be hurtful is that I am not the wild and boisterous person they were initially drawn towards. I am also dissatisfied because I want that person to switch gears and take the lead so I can relax and quietly observe. Unfortunately, this change comes as a surprise and many men are not the foil I need.

I can see how it is disconcerting to begin dating a person believing them to be one way and having to discover they are someone else entirely. It is my fault. I can’t hold these men accountable because I introduced them to the party persona and kept them at a safe distance. However, upon reaching the level of intimacy where I begin to open up and reveal my true self they are confused. Now they are having the exact opposite feeling. They thought they knew and understood who and what I was like, only to discover that the intimacy they had acquired over our courtship is suddenly a lie. I am not the person they had grown accustomed to spending time with and liked very much.

My Auntie’s rules of dating should have taught me about this issue long ago. She argues that standards for the relationship are set in the first three to five dates, if not the first or second. If he takes you out for McDonalds and you accept a second date, he knows he doesn’t need to take you nice places or buy you gifts. You are a cheap date. If he takes you out for lobster and you accept a second date, he knows you expect to be treated well. If you have sex on the first date, he knows you’re easy. Potentially future dates are just bootie-calls. These are fairly fluid but as I am 25 and single I think it’s fair to say that I have tried all three and basically if you date a man, odds are it can devolve into just sex regardless of where you start. It can also grow into something more if and when you are ready to be open and honest with who you truly are in all settings. I’m working on that every day.

What I have learned in the year that has passed since I wrote this piece is that being both halves is important. Being the life of the party and the quiet Sunday afternoon girl are important because both are me. I am not just one or the other. And anyone who expects me to behave as anything less than the multifaceted crystal that I am is not worth the effort. If I have to explain why I am the way I am more than how I got to be who I am, it’s not going to work. The other important lesson I’ve taken away is that being chatty and a flirt is fun, in a way it’s the speed dating of the party circuit. I’ve tried a few random conversations with most of the people I meet. I’ve shared opinions and they’ve shared their thoughts. I have already learned what a first or second date is meant to teach me, if I’d like a third or fourth. It makes sense to test the waters and spend time with many different men because only then can you hone your tastes and figure out what you really want. It has helped me find what men don’t work for me and which men really do. That and it sure as hell beats sleeping with them all.

My early twenties were a depressing and dark time in my life. I thought it important to never let your friends know you have a problem. My juvenile fear was that their pity would be more than I could bear. I was more concerned with them thinking I couldn’t handle my situation than the fact that I was hiding my misery from the only people who could or would help me.

I was terrified of being loved and helped. Trapped in an emotionally abusive relationship I thought I wanted what I had. I thought that because I had something it was something special. I worked every day to justify that unhealthy relationship. I was convincing myself that working through it means forgiving a man everything and asking for nothing in return. I thought I couldn’t leave because I didn’t have any fight left. I was completely exhausted by being the relationship and couldn’t put forth the energy to fight out of it. I allowed myself to be controlled and beaten down because I thought that was love. And I wanted to be in love more than anything.

Had I only allowed my friends to be there for me, I could have saved myself  four years of hiding in a cocoon of covers all day long. The tears and self-imposed exile could have been avoided. I have learned from my mistakes and firmly resolve to let people in, even when my news isn’t great. My only hope is that no young person feels the way I felt from 19 to 23. If the only voices telling you that this is a good relationship are yours and his, consider the value of talking to others. If it is a friend, if it is a sibling, parent, or a complete stranger, it is someone. When you have to create a way to make the story sound good or make that person sound nice so others will like them, chances are you’re not convincing the person you’re telling. You’re convincing yourself.

Life is many casual moments that become a history and build a life. There are formal events and inspirational stories but overwhelmingly the short stories of our days are full of folly, adventure, intrigue and simple bliss. I’ve been thinking a lot about David Foster Wallace’s ‘This is Water’ speech from the 2005 graduation ceremony at Kenyon College. His point was that there are very few things that we control in life but we do control our own thoughts.

We have the opportunity to learn from our experiences and grow with them. To grow our own personal selves independently from those around us we need space and time. This week I’ve wrapped myself in my work, in my romantic relationship and involved myself in the events and lives of my friends. These are all good things. However, I am a believer in the simple messages of God, signs or fate; whatever you believe in or want to call it. Anyway, in one week I have had two homeless men speak to me.

The first was crossing the street on my way out of the office and to my car. He yelled something at the man two people ahead of me. He yelled another statement at the woman in front of me. And as I cringed and waited for some come to Jesus statement or to be told I was a whore by a stranger I was surprised. The man got in my face and yelled, “This is Wednesday!” I laughed the rest of the way to my car.

The second comment came two days later from a man holding a cardboard sign, waiting at the stoplight for a handout. As I held my umbrella with both hands and tried to cross quickly to avoid puddles, the man said, “Looks like it might rain.” As it was already raining, I said, “You’re right. Have a good weekend.” He returned the sentiment and I spent the rest of the walk smiling.

I was thinking about how simple these ‘revelations’ were and yet in a way, they were profound. They spoke to me on two levels. First, they were both casual statements on the obvious and based on well known facts. Second, they were a reminder that the simple things in life are often the things we take most for granted and forget to appreciate.

This is Wednesday; I only have two days left in the business week. This is Wednesday I have volleyball tonight and I can appreciate that. This is Wednesday, the work day is over and I can fill the rest of my day in any way I see fit. This is Wednesday.

“Looks like it might rain.” Yes it does. It’s cloudy and my feet are wet so chances are it might continue to rain. Looks like it might rain, I should wear a jacket. Looks like it might rain, especially when it is indeed raining. Looks like it might rain.

These two homeless men provided simple testaments to the factual existence of certain realities in day to day living. These passing conversations are what I thought about this week. These men I do not know and most likely will never see again. They both changed the way I looked at the world if only for an evening or two. They reminded me that I do indeed have the power to think about whatever I want. I have the power to enjoy my day, even when I’m stuck in a dead end job I hate. I have the power to smile and laugh because even though there is a lot to do in the evenings, I don’t have to do it all. I have the power to live each simple moment to the fullest and with a calm appreciation for what is and what may be.

After all, it’s Wednesday and it looks like it might rain.

Jack’s  need to always be organized and responsible was the driving force that made me want to possess him. I coveted his eyes, his hands, his lips on mine, and the rest of his body. He was a constant distraction all summer. There was so little I could do to stop thinking of Jack, talking about Jack. What began as summer love quickly devolved into an ongoing obsession.

As though my mind were not my own, all that was me melted into a selfless pleasing shell. My only desire was to touch him, to amuse him in some way so he’d love me. I wanted Jack to love me most, love me best, and make me the center of his universe. I wanted his world to revolve around me. I wanted him to need me the way I did him. In a jealousy driven obsession, I lost myself in emotion thinking it was love.

The obsession with Jack concealed the fear I felt of loosing him. I wanted Jack to know the pain that was my world when he was not around. I justified my obsession with unequivocally leading questions, “Does that make him my one?” Never considering if the needs I wanted to meet for him, were needs that he was able or unable, willing or unwilling to meet for me. I sought anything to keep me from thinking about the shallow one-sided nature of our relationship. I almost made the insurmountable leap to, “He could be my one for always.” He just might have been if not for inevitable growth that happens as a young woman ages. In a way, I never thought I wasn’t right for Jack but on some level I always knew he wasn’t right for me.

Silence exists in a vacuum. There can be no other source. For I have heard the sound of silence and the fury that lies therein. There is no quiet peaceful time. Chances to be alone with your thoughts, yes. Attempts at relaxation, yes. But honest, truly honest silence does not exist. If it did though would it be that eerie fear that consumes you when you go in for a cat scan, or the warm vibrations that enter your being when you take a hot bath? I wonder if silence is scary or comforting, warm and mushy or hard like cold steel.

In a way silence is a lot like God. We have faith that it, she, he exists. Yet no one has God’s phone number. There’s prayer, some might argue, but isn’t that what happens when we are sitting in supposed silence? Asking the Lord for advice, filling even our most quiet and vulnerable moments with the ramblings of our train of thought. What if prayer is simply an inner monologue we never heard before, because of all of the noise?

If prayer exists in silence and silence doesn’t exist, does God exist? Obviously not physically, but spiritually? Is God silence? If God is silence is Satan noise? If so are only the deaf and dumb to be saved from the internal eternal noise of hell? Is noise poisonous? Well it must be if we are constantly seeking silence to free ourselves from its clutches. Is anger noise? Is peace silence? Is God noise and the Devil’s temptation silence? If God exists in noise and so much of noise is angry, is God angry? Or is God the sound of silence? Those little moments when we take the time to hear the things we’ve missed. Like the sound of the wind blowing, waves waving, the sun shining, hearts beating, even ourselves breathing. Then certainly all these things must also be God. Thus God is everything and every thing is God.