The Phenomenon of “Checking In”

This morning, I was nearing the end of my shift at work banging away at the fax machine that would not send, my frustration magnified by my lack of sleep.  As I awaited the happy sound of the dial tone on the hospital’s end, my cell phone vibrated on the counter.  It is not altogether unheard of for me to receive a text at that time in the morning, but it is rare, and I simply assumed it was my Mother.  Rather than Mom, the phone showed simply a number, the contact was no longer saved in my phone, but I knew by the area code it was Mr. Jones.  I’ll admit my stomach may have fluttered a bit, but I blame that on a lack of sleep, and intense amount of caffeine.  The text was simple, asking me how I was doing, nothing out of the ordinary, except I hadn’t heard from him in months.  I responded I was fine, and asked how he was (after all polite conversation is necessary to life.)  Then it happened he said he had to ask me “a random question” this is the point where I knew this conversation wasn’t going anywhere good.  Then he hit  me with it “Was wondering if you ever still thought about me?”.  There was no point in me lying so I stated the truth “Now and again,” after all we are still friends on multiple social media sites, his name comes up, I don’t spend my nights pining away for him, or wasted afternoons lost in thought, but like anyone who has had any impact on my life certain things trigger memories, and now and again I do think of him.  However, I was compelled to ask him what was up and point out that we have this conversation about the same time every year.

(Quick Catchup: year, on Halloween, while I was busy passing out candy to neighborhood kids, and crocheting a blanket for my friend’s baby, we engaged in a conversation about his upcoming move back to Tennessee, and how he wanted me to wait for him.  Foolishly, last year, I bought into this idea, despite my better judgement.  However, a few weeks of one-sided conversations, and disinterest on his part, I knew it had been a fluke. )

Fast forward to this morning, and seeing as how Halloween is a week away, I am forced to wonder what it is about this time of year.  Is it that cuffing season is upon us?  I don’t live close enough to keep anyone warm at night.  He responded that he was simply confused, so I assured him one day his prince princess would come and sweep him off his feet, and even he wouldn’t be able to over think it.  (I think this is true of all men courtesy of He’s Just Not That Into You.)  That was it, those were the only texts I got.  I’ll admit I checked my phone a few more times before going to sleep, and again when I awoke after my nap, (the Hallmark channel, hopeless romantic inside me wouldn’t allow anything less) but nothing.

Last year, my E-Beth explained to me that guys do this.  They text you to check in, to make sure you’re still available, or you’re still thinking of them, or that in someway they still have an influence in your life.  This proposition baffled me, as I would never take the time to seek out someone and engage with them if I had no actual intentions.   I tend to be skeptical of any conspiracy plans which generalize people engaging in behavior that to me seems irrational as well as manipulative, but perhaps I am wrong.  I texted My Person, to tell her to keep her life to herself, seeing as how something similar happened to her just last night.   The culmination of all this, is what makes me believe that this phenomenon of “checking in” is real.  Which leaves me with even more questions:  Is it simply a male activity?  What is the real purpose of  asking if someone thinks about you?  Is it about ego?  Is there a certain time that one is to wait between said ‘check ins’?  When does the checking in  end? Is it when one person is in a relationship?  both?  when one is married? Will I will hear from Mr. Jones again next Halloween if he hasn’t found his princess?

I suppose these are questions I may never have the answer to.  

10 Years from Now

Today, I woke up on the first of May with no work to go to, but determined to be productive and refusing to be in the same funk I was in yesterday.  Graciously May came in sunny and warm, unlike the dreary day that was called for.  I awoke, headed for the laptop to download the new B.O.B. album, turned up the volume, and set about to completing my chores.  First on the list, the dishes, which I do not plan on doing again for a while, I am fully stocked on paper and plasticware, I cannot be wasting precious study time on dishwashing.  As always when I do chores I find myself thinking, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone else to do this?  I looked at the laundry which needs to be put away, I do not washing clothes or folding them, but I hate putting it away, this will be my future husband’s job.  I looked out at the yard, and the grass which once again need to be cut, another one of the duties that will be delegated to my future husband.  As I moved on to vacuum the floors, I thought about the convo with my person last night about relationships and her plans for her dream destination wedding, and it was then that it hit me.

What if I don’t ever get married?  Ten years from now what if I am still single?  Will this be what I am still doing?  Living alone, going about my chores wishing I had a partner to share in the duties.  I always say no matter whether I find Mr. Right or not, I am going to be a mother, but it is usually said with some humor, what if that becomes my reality?  I have never been one to be in a relationship or actively pursue dating, and have always just blindly believed when people told me they thought the person I married would come from out of the blue.   But what if that’s not how it works?  I have always been very driven in my academic and career goals, I knew what I needed to do and I did it, but I’ve never understood relationships, there is another person involved, a variable, one I cannot control.  But well, I suppose that is it isn’t it?  Relationships are about letting go of all that control, letting someone else in. So perhaps sometime in the next ten years I will be comfortable enough to give up some of my control, let someone else in, and  find that somebody to put away the laundry and be a father to my children.

LOVE!

This Love Hurts Too Much…

Maybe it’s not love?  I say love because that is what a little voice in my head tells me it is, the same little voice tells me I want nothing more than for him to be happy, and that I would do anything for him, so I assume it is love.  But maybe I don’t really know what love is, but I know these feelings are more than anything I’ve felt before, they are too much. Feelings that manifest reflexively in the physical, the immediate smile when I see his name on my phone, the butterflies at a simple touch, the twist in my chest when I feel rejection setting in, nausea at the thought of him choosing someone over me.  I repeatedly say I will let it go, I repeatedly tell myself not to go back and then that is exactly what I do, I go back.  This weekend I did just that, I went back.  I sent the text I told myself I would not send, I gave myself to the kiss I said I didn’t want, I let myself have expectations I had no right to have.  I went back to Knox, I went back to a time passed, and I went back to an old vice, and the result was a life altering moment that I can only be grateful to an angel for getting me through.

I must walk away from this weekend with a lesson learned.  I must realize that no matter how much I want something, I cannot make someone else want that same thing, and the only one who will get hurt is me.  Don’t get me wrong everything that occurred was my fault and my fault alone.  In fact, despite my angry words and immature attitude, he came to my rescue in that moment, which only made me love him more.  But now more than ever I have too much to lose, I cannot put myself in these situations and lend myself to the self-destruction which apparently I am prone.

Don’t get me wrong it’s all still there.  I still relish getting lost in our silly banter.  I still melt at his kiss.  I still find myself overwhelmingly attracted to him, beyond the physical, to his ambition, creativity and confidence.  But there are obstacles in the way, and I cannot will him to feel the same.  So I will keep the memories and stop wishing silly wishes for the future, and wait for someone to come along who puts these feelings to shame.  And in the mean time, I will be smart; I will no longer let myself go back.

Love always,

Jennie

Define: Relationship

I was sitting next to my Certification BFF during a break making idle chit-chat, when the topic turned to his wife and their history.  In short, they dated for 7 years, the majority of his time in college and law school, before getting married, and he was hard pressed to remember a time when he was single.  In the course of the convo Certification BFF asked me “How long was your longest relationship?” I was a bit taken back, and quite frankly did not want to answer this question.  I looked down and shyly answered “Two months.”  Certification BFF’s jaw dropped, confirming my embarrassed reaction to the question was the correct one.  I explained I had only had one boyfriend, and that, in fact it was probably a mistake because it ruined a great friendship.  After a short interrogation, Certification BFF concluded I must have been busy studying which was the reason for my lack of relationships.  However, he unmercifully continues to bring up this piece of information.

Thinking back on this conversation, I couldn’t help but ask myself if it wouldn’t have been important to ask him to define: relationship.  Is a relationship simply the formal titles of boyfriend and girlfriend?  Webster defines ‘relationship’ as: “a state of affairs existing between those having relations or dealings.”  Affair? Relations? Dealings?  Although Webster’s definition may be innocently referring to diplomatic terms between countries, I cannot help but muse at the irony of the words that constitute the definition of relationship. Although I would never answer a question about a relationship with anything other than my two month experience as a girlfriend, simply to avoid being pressed for details of less defined situations, based on this definition, I find myself having to reconsider how long my ‘actual’ longest relationship was…

Faithfully yours,

Jennie

Confessions from 2011

Below are a few musings of my 2011 experience, a year it appears not many people liked.

• 2011 you came in awkward as hell, and well…you never really improved.
• Looking back, I think I let myself down, I don’t think I gave 100% effort on the bar the second time around.  I didn’t even finish watching one of the contract lectures, I sometimes napped to avoid studying, and I feared I would be stuck in the hell that was my law firm if I passed.
• My 25th birthday party is when I realized there was really nothing left for me in Knox.
• Though I was not overwhelmingly shocked I did not pass the bar, I did come to dread even the notion of taking it again.
• Being fired from that law firm was one of the greatest thing that ever happened to me.
• When I was unemployed and so focused on getting a job, is when I realized I wanted to not be single more than anything else, luckily careers come easier than men.
• Maybe it wasn’t all her, maybe I was a tad  jealous of my supposed best friend and her relationship which took her away from all of us.
• While it probably should be failing the bar, looking back, disappointing My Person on her graduation weekend is my greatest regret of the year.
• I’m not sure I acknowledge just how blessed I am often enough.
• Although I do love my new job, moving to this town was not all I had cracked it up to be.
• My job makes me glad I’m not in love, something I hang onto when I go to bed at night.
• I miss Knox most because there was always someone to call, whether it was to go out or just sit around and watch TV, I wish I had that here.
• I have absolutely no concept of how to deal with death or other human crises, I only cry at movies.
• Seeing Uncle D made my Homecoming trip worthwhile, even if he is married.
• I have become even more apathetic towards politics this year.
• I never pulled my camera out till the end of the year, nothing before seemed memorable.
• My dogs and I have what I’m not sure is a healthy co-dependency.
• Hearing from Mr. Jones that he sometimes thinks we will end up together made my heart leap, even though I know I should know better.
• I really wasn’t excited about this wedding when I woke up, but it turned out to be one of the best nights ever, and I am so happy to see my family grow.
• Hearing that I am a ‘big city person’ has really gotten my mind to thinking.
• It took less than a week for me to become addicted to this Kindle.
• I find it appropriate I have planned to sleep in the end of the year, as that is what I wanted to do the majority of 2011.

I’m sure there are more, but I have been sipping champagne, and one cannot be making confessions on the internet when imbibing alcohol, especially when full of bubbles and happiness.  As always, I remain,

Faithfully Yours,

Jennie

Life of a 30 Something Divorcee…

It’s Friday night, 10:00 on a Friday night to be exact, and I sit here writing this blog.  On this Friday night, I have cut the grass and done some laundry, called my married friends to find they were busy tonight, and resolved myself to a night of staying in. I proceeded to do chores to the melodies of Adele while sipping on a glass of chardonnay.  It was at this moment, I realized I was living the life of a 30 something divorcee, my social life revolves around married couples (ones with amazing relationships, which makes me only more bitter about my singleness), and I spend Friday night doing chores.  Having spoken to my 30 something divorcee co-worker while I was training with her, I know this to be true, her life and mine are very similar, except she goes home to children, and I go home to dogs.  As Adele sang and I vacuumed my floors, I began thinking of this blog.

As I sit here drinking a margarita, blogging and intermittently feeding tortilla chips to my dogs, still in full makeup, yet wearing fleece pajama pants, I realize I am the quintessential set up for a montage about the depressing singleness of a 20 something before they fall in love with the male lead.  I happen to be an aficionado on rom coms, in fact I am watching one right now.  (Sidenote:  In these movies where the leads would rather fight with each other than make love with anyone else, do these kind of volatile relationships really last?  I have a theory they all end up like Hubble and Katie in The Way We Were, so this is not the kind of relationship I seek, but it does make for good entertainment.)   Since I sincerely doubt my life is a rom com waiting to happen, that’s just not the way life works, and I have sadly come to terms with the fact that the world does not revolve around me, I will continue to sip my margarita and wallow in my singleness.

I recently contemplated being single as I finished reading the last few chapters of Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller.  I had several chapters at the end left to read, which was surprising, since I really enjoyed the book had read the first 130 pages in one sitting.  I suppose I got busy what with the move and all, and only recently stumbled upon it in a box of books.  One of the chapters I had yet to read was on romance, love, and marriage.  This chapter made me want to be married, not to have a fling, or a boyfriend, but to be married.  This is especially interesting, because the entire chapter the author speaks about he does not believe he would like to be married in the near future.  The author blames this lack of wanting to get married on a fear of intimacy, he wants to “marry a girl who, when I am with her, makes me feel alone.  I guess what I am saying is, I want to marry a girl whom I feel completely comfortable with, comfortable being myself.”  How lovely a thought is this?  The idea of being with someone and being able to be yourself completely when you are around them, and know they will still be there, this is what I too have always wanted in a marriage.  The author is not married, he has a discussion about marriage with one of his friends, whose main issue with marriage is that while he is in an intimate relationship, it will never be the ultimate fulfillment, because “there are places in our lives that only God can go.”  I found this idea fascinating.  After this conversation, author then writes a monologue of a husband to his wife, in which he says: “I will give you this, my love, and I will not bargain or barter any longer.  I will love you, as sure as He has loved me.  I will discover what I can discover and though you remain a mystery, save God’s own knowledge, what I disclose of you I will keep in the warmest chamber of my heart, the very chamber where God has stowed Himself in me.  And I will do this to my death, and to death it may bring me.”  This is what I want in a relationship, in a marriage.

I have always believed love is an action, a decision.  The concept of falling in and out of love baffles me.  I have never been in love so perhaps these thoughts are a bit naive, but to fall out of love seems to me like a cop-out.  Perhaps I am missing the mystical quality that is love, but to me it seems simple, perhaps at time work, but simple none the less.  From my observations of relationships that work, and those that do not work, I have developed my own opinion about what I want.  Romantic love to me is finding one person that you want nothing more than to make happy, and they want nothing more than to make you happy, and that is what you do, you spend time and energy doing everything within your power to support their happiness and well-being.  At least this is what I want.  And perhaps, one day, when I do fall in love, I will realize there is much more to it all then this simple equation.  But for now, I will simply continue to wallow in the fact that I am single and muse on how I think love should be, for what else is there to do when one is home alone on a Friday night.