He held my hand,
with parted lips,
speaking an unfamiliar language.
Lost in the translations,
I kept hearing her name.

He promised the next picks wouldn’t be so sad,
But “it don’t mean nothing at all.”
The first choices
Were not
For me.

He’s damaged,
by someone else’s hands.
Mine are expected to cradle, croon and console;
soothe and sing to sleep a dissonant heart;
strap on the defibrillator,
stand back,
and wait
for rhythms made for me.

Spring has sprung and despite years of miserable serial dating, despite finding luuuv four months ago, there’s still a great desire in me right now to be…free and alone again. There are a few reasons that are leading up to acknowledging these feelings:

1. I forgot how content I am when I’m alone,
2. I can’t help but wonder if the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, and most importantly,
3. Mr. Dreamy has been continuing a trend of annoying behaviors that cause me to wonder, “Is this IT? And if this is it, am I really willing to sacrifice my independence for THIS? Four months have come and gone. Despite a lot of hot air, he hasn’t truly made serious changes to improve his OWN life (gaining weight, eating healthy, taking proper care of his damn dog). Part of me can appreciate the fact that it’s likely way too soon for him to be in a relationship, since his shocker divorce. Maybe he just hasn’t learned how to take care of himself…Another part of me doesn’t really give a rat’s a– what his reasons are for lacking proactivity and being irresponsible. I’m already reaching my Excuse’s for Mr. Dreamy limit.

The bottom line for me is this: I’m done being disappointed. I’m done trying to fix other people. I know how difficult it is to truly change your own bad behaviors. It’s a constant struggle, a struggle that can be inspired or disrupted by others…if we let them.

It frightens me a little that these stories, after years, are beginning to be commonplace.

Coming from a long line of pub crawling micks, I’m sure it’s no surprise that St. Patrick’s Day is positively one of my favorite holidays. My dad plays the bagpipes and the day I was born he sang “Black Velvet Band” to me, a pretty little ditty about a pick-pocketing prostitute. As I was growing up, my dad would get plastered the night before St. Patrick’s Day and paint a massive Shamrock at the center of my hometown’s main drag with his friends. The next day he would be hung over and content, playing bagpipes all day long all over the community. Despite our current hiatus, I can still muster up fond memories of him parading into my kindergarten classroom to perform for my classmates, as I sat indian style on the carpeted floor in my miniture kilt.

As of late, life has been A-Okay. I’m not far from my goal weight and having a great time getting used to being in this new body. I really wish I would have made this lifestyle change a LONG time ago. But like my magical and impetuous father, my genes seem to direct me to making poor choices before the right ones find me in due time. It could just be that this is the cost of having a few too many drops of rebel blood flowing in my veins.

“I’ve been a wild rover for many’s the year,
and I spent all me money on whiskey and beer.
And now I’m returning with gold in great store,
and I never will play the wild rover no more.”

As I stood in the aisle at the jam packed liquor store, I was starting to feel slightly annoyed. Our festivities were at HIS digs, so why was I starting to feel like I was throwing the “party”? Was I yet again going to end up with another guy who lets me to do ALL the work and was I yet again going to be the primary romance maker???? And boy, all that thinking was starting to p— me off a little!

I called him from the liquor store to ask if he had champagne glasses. I was considering buying two, even if he already had some. I wasn’t keen on sharing the libation with him out of glasses he likely used with his ex-wife. His reply to my call was yet another reassurance. All was well, he had bought some on the drive home from work. I stifled my annoyance and reminded myself that this guy was and is so different from all the rest, and that I just needed to start truly trusting in that.

I trucked all of the party stuff into my car and drove out to his house. As I pulled into the driveway and started unpacking the bags of goodies, annoyance crept in again, “Where WAS he and why wasn’t he helping me with the bags?” I lugged the bags through the snow and up to his front door. I could see his shadow waiting for me at the door as he hid behind it and opened it. What that door opened to was possibly one of the most romantic sights I’ve ever witnessed–the fireplace was blazing, as were nearly two dozen votive candles in delicate glass candle holders…for me.

For ME?

Yeah. For me.

Dumby me was so taken aback, I curtly said something stupid like, “oh wow.” The truth was, if I had said more or even looked at him instead of petting his dog, I would have probably broken down into a bumbling mess of grateful tears.

Before this experience, I didn’t wholeheartedly believe in fate or serendipity . I believed that life certainly had more than a few strange and miraculous unexplainable occurrences…Yet I still found myself thinking that everything and everyone we come in contact with was pretty random…and pure chance. This past year has given me ample evidence to believe in the unbelievable–that maybe, just maybe every random act we take part in can lead us to where we’re “meant to be.” I won’t go into detail, since some things aren’t necessary for others to know or hear, but I will say there are more than a few serendipitous things about Mr. Dreamy that are positively unexplainable… unless you believe in fate.

Probability or serendipity aside, I’m so grateful that I’ve found someone who’s loving me back with an equal fire. Adoration reciprocated tastes so much sweeter than the roller coaster and half-a–ed lovin’ that I willingly accepted in the past.

I realize that the blissful infatuation stage isn’t going to last forever and that somewhere along the line we’re bound to find a few challenges. But man, this euphoria sure is a nice place to start.

On a side note, we saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button last night. The flick was slow moving (and THREE hours long), but had me in tears during the last few scenes. Here’s a memorable quote:

“For what it’s worth, it’s never too late, or in my case too early, to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit… start whenever you want… you can change or stay the same. There are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. I hope you see things that stop you. I hope you feel things that you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life that you’re proud of and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”

The bottom line for me: you just don’t KNOW what life has in store for you. And when you think you’ve finally reached the end of your rope, there’s always, always a lifeline; always something unpredictable that can and will change everything.

Here’s to
all the poor choices,
all the triumphs,
all the heart ache,
all the unrequited crushes,
all the bad dates,
all the unreturned calls,
all the rally cries,
all the bottles of Shiraz,
all the efforts to being okay alone,
and all the courage mustered for an unpredictable chance.

It is, however,  a little distracting having someone pop into your thoughts every other hour.  If that’s the only thing I can possibly complain about, I would have to say I’m in a good place….with a good person, who just happens to make me feel like I’m 15.

This whole slightly crazy, yet oh-so-clearly sensible experience has brought my mind back to an old first love.  One winter, in his cold dining room he turned on this song and made me dance with him during a rough patch in my life.  That Freudian conquest left me a little jaded, but filled with the knowledge that, yep, a man did love me.  I would be a liar if I didn’t admit that I’ve been searching for someone to replicate the way he made me feel on occasion.  I guess I just had no idea that I would fall upon someone who surpassed him by leaps and bounds.

In other news:  I only gained 3 pounds over the holiday!  That’s a grand total of 40 pounds gone since August.  I’m just having a slightly difficult time staying focused on the whole life style thing a midst of this love stuff.  Smoking is still on the platter and I’m totally terrified of quitting.  But it’s time.  I guess it was about time for more than a few changes in my life.

Life has been a total rollercoaster for the past few months.  I made a little Lifestyle Change, stopped eating fast food and started eating fruits and veggies with a vengeance.  I’m officially down 30 pounds!  A few weeks before the election we lost a student to violence, then lost another.  I can’t say that I ever want to attend another teenager’s wake again in my life.  It was all pretty gut wrenching and disturbing.

By the time the elections came around, I figured I had cried enough to last a few lifetimes.  Needless to say, I spent election night drinking wine and sobbing tears of joy, for a change.  Let’s hope that’s what we get.

I think my dad found great amusement in my rage against conservatism, as long as it wasn’t personally directed towards him.  He’d chuckle at Rush’s stupid one-liners, while I would sit in the back seat steaming.  This arrangement went on up until I went away to college and suddenly realized that the values my MOM had instilled in me where clearly…liberal, bordering on socialist.  She wasn’t as outspoken about her politics as my father was, but I learned early on that it was not only a virtue to expect equality for all, but a duty.  I learned early on that, no, poverty and welfarism wasn’t something to scorn or berate, but rather something to pity.

The point: I haven’t listened to shock jock radio is years, but was a little shocked to hear what they’re REALLY saying.  I mean, I’m all for the First Amendment, but this shit has got to stop.  Check out the Bill Moyers Journal.