On Time

Time is money. There's no time like the present. Time flies when you're having fun. 

Seriously, how many idioms are there about time? 

But, time is an important concept, especially when you consider it in terms of a significant other. 

We don't want to be wasting our time and energy with someone who doesn't truly value us. And I think the amount of effort and thought a guy puts into planning dates is a strong indicator of that. 

I dated a guy the past few months who considered drinking beer on his roof top patio a romantic evening. As much as I love beer and roof top patios, I need a little more flair now and then. Take me to a picnic in the park, or a concert, or a walk around the canal. I don't need to eat at a five-star restaurant once a week, but I do need to feel appreciated.

Tried as I could to explain how I felt, I don't think it ever sank in, or that he was capable of actually making an effort to let me know I was important to him. 

Whatever the case may be, we parted ways, and I soon thereafter reconnected with a guy I'd known since middle school. He actually asked what type of food I liked, researched restaurants, and made reservations for our first date. Talk about swoon. After five months of Coors Light and bar food, he had me eating out of the palm of his hand. 

A few dates later, and I was still receiving daily texts, but no suggestions of hanging out. Maybe I've read He's Just Not That Into You one two many times, but I knew something was up. 

I'm used to just being phased out by no longer hearing from a guy. This concept of daily texting with no follow-up on future dates was completely foreign and confusing to me, so I asked him if he was just trying to move things into the friend zone. First, I got the "I just got out of a relationship" excuse. Understandable. After all, I'd just got out of one, too. Not healthy to jump from one to the other. But, when I asked him if he just wanted to be friends for now or still casually hang out, he responded with, "We can hang out, but I'm going to be super busy and unavailable the next two months." 

Did the writers of HJNTIY actually use him as a case study? Because those sounded like direct lines from the book. 

What's worse, I gave him an easy way out, and he still kinda beat around the bush. Maybe he was trying to spare my feelings, or maybe he wanted to keep me at arm's length in case he decided he was interested, or maybe he doesn't know what the hell he wants. 

Doesn't really matter the underlying reason, because his message was clear: He doesn't want to make the time to hang out with me. 

After all, if something or someone is truly important to us, we MAKE time for it/him/her. 

Maybe third time will be the charm (ha! see - another time idiom!) ... 

 

Home, Sweet Home

Sunset view of RVA

I'm pretty freakin' excited to be back in my hometown after six years in D.C.

Richmond is definitely a smaller scale city, but there is still plenty to do. And it kinda makes me feel like I'm in an eternal episode of Cheers, where everyone knows my name. (Or even if they don't, they still smile and say "hi".)

I grew up in the suburbs of RVA, so I was a bit sheltered from downtown life.

Things I've discovered:

-Downtown is not nearly as scary as my mom made it out to be. There are not rapists lurking around every corner.

-St. John's Church. I stumbled upon this gem while stopping to see if this old house was a historical marker was some sort of museum (don't ask me why, but I have a fascination with old homes). Patrick Henry gave his "Give me liberty or give me death" speech on the stairs of this church. How did I not know this??

-A bounty of parks with idyllic views of the James River. Hence why Richmond is affectiontely called the River City.

-Concerts. I feel like I'm constantly finding new local bands to follow.

-Museums. Yes, I lived in the museum capital of the country, but do you realize how crowded those got?? I can actually view artwork and have personal space/breathing room.

-Kick-ass cuisine. I grew up going to TGI Fridays, Applebees and Olive Garden. While I love my never-ending salad and breadsticks, there's just something so much better about family-owned restaurants. 

-More space and cheaper rent. I think I can actually afford to live on my own now. Hell yes!

But really, I feel more content than I have in a long time. There's something ridiculously freeing about experiencing Richmond through my own eyes and on my own terms. It's like I'm finally forging a life of my own in a place I've always considered home.

Breaking the dead airtime...

A communications professor I had once told me that more than five seconds of dead airtime on the radio can be detrimental to a station. In the blogging world, I'd equate that to a week at most. So, I'm guessing it's unlikely that I have many people following this anymore. But nonetheless, I'm giving RFL another go.

If you're wondering where the hell I've been the past six months, it's a long-ass story so I'll just say that my life has been a bit of a whirlwind. But, here are some key, abbreviated points:

-I began an extrememly volatile relationship where I hit the fast forward button, let the guy talk about marriage, devoted all of my heart, soul and energy, and became severely depressed. Our relationship barely lasted three months. (Good thing, too, because I don't know if I'd be here writing this if I had allowed myself to continue on that way.)

-I quit my job, left D.C. after calling it my home from six years and moved back to Richmond.

Getting into all of this right now would take up at least 10 pages single-spaced, and I'm not sure I'm ready to write about it all yet, so I'll spare you from all the nitty-gritty details for now.

But, after months of restlessness, I'm finally feeling at peace. I'm getting back into things that make me, me, and that includes writing.

Sure, making a professional career out of it has been a bit of a challenge. I've thought about throwing in the towel a million times. But writing is part of who I am and what I know and I can't just give up. (I had a psychic reading with an intuitive life coach last week and she told me to start writing everyday, even if it's just for 10 minutes. She has to know what she's talking about. Slightly kidding, but not really.)

So, I'm back. With renewed energy and spirit. I'm still figuring out who I am and what I want out of life, but at the end of the day, aren't we all?

Being single sometimes makes you feel like...

This

and/or

this

Being Alone Can Be Scary as Hell

This past August, my grandfather passed away. I was fortunate enough, a month earlier, to spend his 80th birthday with him at a surprise party planned by my aunt. About 100 of his family and friends showed up for the occasion.

The next day, I was at his house, and he kept talking about how normally during the days it was just him and his dog, Buddy, a Doberman the size of a small horse. My granddaddy’s second wife passed away a few years earlier from breast cancer, and progressed macular degeneration left him legally blind and unable to drive for the past decade. He lived with my aunt and uncle, who both worked full-time, 9-5 jobs, so he was often alone during the day, except for friends that stopped by for lunch on occasion.

He must have commented that he’s alone a lot at least five times during my visit. And it suddenly hit me – my 80-year-old grandfather is afraid of the same thing I am as a single 27-year-old. Being alone.

With each engagement and wedding, I’m elated for my friends, but also reminded that I’m nowhere near that milestone. And with each passing year, I wonder if it’s ever in the cards for me.

But, my grandfather taught me an important lesson before he died. This thing I’ve placed on a pedestal, and think will bring me life-long companionship, is fleeting. Marriage can end in divorce, or in my grandfather’s case with his second wife, death. As with everything in life, there are never any guarantees.

I write this not to come across as a crass, bitter bitch, or give off the notion that I no longer believe in love and finding a soul mate. Quite the contrary.

It’s a reminder that this fear of being alone can persist no matter what the circumstances. A reminder to be thankful for what I do have, instead of focusing on what I don’t. A reminder to tell those in my life I love them, and maybe call or write them more frequently so they’re aware how much they mean to me.

My aunt said that as she held my granddaddy’s hand while he drew his last breaths, he seemed at peace. I hope he passed from the physical world no longer fearful of being alone, but thinking of all the people he had impacted throughout his life. Those 100 people at his surprise party were just a small percentage, I'm sure.

Hey, if the shoe fits...

Last week, I finally went to the doctor after my co-worker noticed my left foot was so swollen it was double the size of my right one. Hello, Shrek foot.

Diagnosis: stress fracture

No cardio of any kind (besides swimming) for two weeks.

No running for six weeks.

AND, I get to rock this awesome looking orthopaedic boot.

Here's a visual (not my actual foot, but you get the idea):

I don't know what's hotter - the shoe or the fact that I walk like Frakenstein when I wear it. I keep trying to adapt some sort of pimp/thug life strut but I'm unfortunately not baller enough to pull that off.

In the meantime, I'm trying to think of some really crazy story to tell people when they ask me what happened. You know - one that would make me look super heroic and badass or even just hilariously idiotic.

Chasing after Ryan Gosling and saving a teacup poodle from oncoming traffic are currently my top contenders. Suggestions welcome.

Seriously though, I'm going through major high heel withdrawals. I stood in front of the Nine West store for a good five minutes during my lunch break today salivating like each pair was a fresh-out-of-the-oven Krispy Kreme donut. Yeah, I'm that pathetic.

And I'm totally burning this orthopaedic p.o.s. as soon as the doc says it can come off...while dancing around in my favorite heels, of course. Fingers crossed for next Wednesday!

A not-so triumphant return to the world of online dating

I took a pretty lofty hiatus from online dating during the spring and summer months. Much like every exercise routine I try to follow, I just didn't feel like keeping up with it anymore.

Then I saw $60 deducted from my bank account in August for my match.com subscription and figured I should probably attempt to utilize a service I'm paying for. And oddly enough, the online dating sites seem a bit more active during the fall/winter months. I think the most likely reason is at first hint of cool air and the start of football season, us single folk realize that the holidays are right around the corner, and the thought of spending another holiday season alone thrusts us into desperate means to find a mate. So, I updated my profile, added some additional pictures and have resumed life on match.com and okcupid.com.

I had my first date since the account update last week. Unfortunately, I can't say that much has changed.

I met King Charles at an Irish Pub close to both of our apartments. I was about 5 minutes late getting there, and when I got there, he was already seated at the bar with a beer in hand. When the bartender came over to take my order. I selected a Sam Adams Oktoberfest (one of my favorite aspects of fall) and started fidgeting for my wallet. King Charles made zero attempt to put my beer on the tap he clearly already had open, so I quickly realized I needed to actually take out my credit card.

Strike one.

Sadly, it got worse. Or better if you count the story I got out of it. King Charles owns - you guess it, a King Charles Spaniel. Not only that, but when explaining the breed he added, "You know, the same kind as Charlotte had in Sex and the City."


To be fair, he probably gets tons of comments while walking his dog or talking about his dog. It's not exactly the type of dog I'd imagine straight, single males owning. So I'm sure the first jab people throw at him is that he has the same type of dog as Charlotte York. But for the love of God, on a date - a first date at that, I'm not so sure your knowlege of Sex and the City is something you want to flaunt.