I've seen this "meme" floating around in various forms. One says to take the first sentence from the first entry of each month and copy and paste. Another says to take the last sentence. The general idea is that this would be a summary of your year. I decided to read back through every one of my posts and select sentences I liked or that had some significance for that month. It is kind of hard for me to pick just the beginning sentence, or the last sentence, or just one sentence in particular because - let's face it - I hardly write in complete sentences. The grammar police are on to me. And instead of just re-gurgitating, I decided to make this an exercise. I will recycle the old content with new commentary to give it new life and try and make this a semi-cohesive post while I reflect on the past year. This might get all piebald on me. Strap in.
The story begins in March....
Because March was the birth of the blog! And the demise of a "relationship" that lasted six loooong years - too long. Relationship is what we call it. It was on and off - a friends-lovers-confidantes-punching bag kind of thing. Nobody really understood it. I think we did. But it ended rather bizarrely. The ingredients of which are: One Non-Committal guy, a desperate haggard mom, visions of money bags, years of Guilt, lots of miles between, kids!, unaccepting family, and a quick wedding (that hasn't happened yet). The Mud Pie is not complete. But what I think of his Hell is my Paradise. Because it didn't take long to figure out that Letting Go was a blessing in disguise. I probably cried for like 3 threeks. Then I put the wheels in motion to Trucking On.
And it went something like this:
"I have had this Old Worn Shoe for the past six years........This week I opened my closet to put on Old Worn Shoe, but it was gone." [Who really needs old worn shoes anyway - high time to upgrade! --Jimmy Choo] [Who is Jimmy Choo? We love you! --DSW Shoe Warehouse]
See? I was "dumped" for an ex-girlfriend. Ouch. But how do you get over getting dumped? Well, it might look something like this your first couple weeks: "Spending all day Saturday in a bar where people are dressed as Guinness bottles and cans.....At what point in the day did I lose all feeling in my ass?"
At about this time, you come up with some real insightful observations: "The Dive Bar is the heart of a real drinking culture."
And of course there is no substitute for retail therapy: "Because you can never have enough, I bought new blue jeans!"
Then you try and throw yourself into your hobbies, your interests, a blog(?): "I was an Art History major in college so occasionally it creeps back into my life.....If I were ever brave and cool enough to own a snake, I am sure I would name him Modigliani." [Artsy-fartsy, I try. Brave-hearted, I'll never be. Perhaps a goldfish named Sausage would be more my speed.]
So you are keeping yourself busy and avoiding Him but it is March. And in March The Cold will not go away. And frankly you are tired of it at this point. My feeling is if you get The Bitter Cold - you should have some snow with it. It's like beer in a can and a coosy (sp?) - it just makes it a tad more enjoyable. If anything for show. But alas, the snow never came...."I even went out this year and bought snow-appropriate trend-wagon Uggs in anticipation of burying my luxury-wrapped sausages deep within your fluffy, powdered purity. Instead all I got were puddles and my Uggs are like, "fashion victim." It's like driving an SUV in the city. Utilitarian? I think not. Aesthetics."
And look at this, sometimes I actually sound like I have had therapy: "I know change isn't going to happen unless you drag your pity-ass off the couch and do something about it. So I have put those wheels in motion.....I am "dating" again....And I won't look back because I know from experience that in order to move on permanently, you have to move on emotionally."
But then again, I become all school girl lovesick, instead of patient [Spoiler: Rampant theme this year.] And in March, I encountered my first (proverbial) frog of the year: "Like the skeptical fan from the sideline, declaring "it's over" when the other team has a substantial lead over your team. You throw the towel in. You call it for what it is. Impending defeat. So I am going to call this game right now.The sexy-but-not-obviously-or-conceitingly-sexy boy I met on Friday night - and who gave me one of the best kisses of my life by the way - will not call." [Girl, so not the best kiss. --Hindsight.]
And then I get all anlaytical about "What Is Wrong With Me"...boiled down to one very over-rated technology: "I hate the phone. The phone surely hates me. It is the bane of all my relationships. Since this is a blame-seeking culture, I am placing the blame on the demise of any potential relationship on my lack of Phone Presence. I don't have it. In fact, the next time some guy asks me for my phone number, I am giving him a friend's number, so that she can mediate the Call That Will Inevitably Bust All Hope."
"I needed another martini to stay in the game or my mind was taking a long walk off a short pier. I needed to blame it on alcohol." [The Calling Card of Drunks-R-U. --Anonymous]
But I think I found some peace at some point this month: "...so I put away the martini shaker, grabbed my quilt, and laid down on the bathroom floor. For that moment there were birds singing in my head. One was dancing, one was finishing the vacuuming, and one was in the corner drinking."
Oh yeah, and this was my Skinny Month....good times...
"So maybe I will just roam the Easter candy aisle instead and remember what that chocolate bunny tasted like. Because memory is still always sweeter than the candy will ever be."
So this is what March looked like. The message of which is, let go, drink, buy yourself another pair of $160 blue jeans, and bank on the men you meet this month to never call you back.
But you are back in the saddle....