Hiatus

I’ve decided to take a hiatus, a manatus (a man-ate-us!) I should say. I woke up this morning after dreams of marriage and men and lay in my bed trying to make sense of what I’d seen behind my eyelids in my state of REM.

Here’s what I realized:

One of last night’s dreams included a co-worker of mine that in my waking state, I think I’m developing a crush on. There are women in my office that consider our work place their own personal dating pool. I am not one of them. I feel strongly about not dating people I work with.
So, this dream was mildly alarming to me, he’s coming home from work with me and sneaking into my dreams now?! Whats next??

I haven’t been without a guy since I was 20 (thats nine looong years) . I also don’t think I’ve ever admitted this to myself. I’ve either been in a full fledged relationship or in multiple non-relationship or at least engaged in flirtations. The moment I’ve been single in my twenties, I’ve immediately been on the prowl again. After the age of 25, the moment I’ve been single I’ve engaged in flirtations (to say the least) with my Little Mr. Big. There have always been boys in my orbit.

I have a confession, I am a hypocrite. There have been times where I’ve advised girlfriends, after bad break ups, to just cool it and be with themselves for a while. I’ve gotten on up on a soapbox and preached about how women should be strong and not run from one relationship to another, that a man does not define us, that we must take the time to define ourselves, all the while looking for or engaging in my next relationship/date/flirtation. I’ve dished with friends about that certain recent divorcee who jumped back into the dating game 3 months after her divorce. I was in denial!

Well today, this madness has got to stop. I want to be man-free since April 20 (okay, so it doesn’t rhyme, I tried..its early!).

Little Mr. Big

Cake and I sat across from one another over crunchy chips and spicy salsa. Of course, she didn’t know how spicy the salsa was because she has issues with any kind of sauce or condiment. I am appalled by the thought of never having salsa, ketchup, honey mustard sauce or SALAD DRESSING, ever. That thought scares me but we continue to be great friends and she lets me make fun of her every time she orders at a restaurant.

“I’ll have the salad. No dressing. Yes, none at all. No I don’t want it on the side. No, no oil and vinegar. No dressing at all”

OR

“I’ll have the chicken fingers basket. No sauce. No none. Not the BBQ, not the honey mustard. What? Don’t look at me like that!”

I talked through mouthfuls of the salsa, I just couldn’t get enough. Cake is one of those friends who will love you despite you talking with your mouth full.

“He’s TOTALLY your Mr. Big. You have a Mr. BIG,’ she exclaimed when I was done with my story.

“Yes, but he’s only 5′8″ so Mr. BIG doesn’t quite suit him,” I said, trying not to choke on the big gulp of Diet Coke I’d just taken or worse, trying not to have it come through my nose.

“But the gist is totally there!” she said lighting up.

She smelled drama and plenty of opportunities to make fun of me in the near future. She’s probably right. But I think this is the part where my Mr. Big and I are just friends (what? it could happen!).

Easter Candy

Chocolate is one of my weaknesses.

Especially Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut bar. I can usually have a reasonable amount of any kind of chocolate, but when it comes to CFNB, that’s so not the case. I’ve already eaten half the bar and have a tummy ache.

The other half is calling my name.

Help! An intervention is in order.

Power Outage

They tell you not to talk to your recent ‘ex’ after a break up for a while (they being your overly concerned and awesome friends as well as relationship gurus everywhere). You have to ‘get over it’ before you can be friends, they say. Allow yourself to feel the pain, they say. This of course, is great advice and like most great advice, is easier said than done.

When I broke up with mmm we’ll call him…Mike. So, when I broke up with Mike recently he said in a small voice “I don’t never want to talk to you again, you’re my best friend”. It was all so touching and sweet and of course I agreed to still be friends with him. I told him that we’d need to put some time between the relationship and a friendship and I think I heard a faint grunt of agreement from him.

Now, Mike obviously doesn’t do well with listening to me and my needs, which is a big part of why I broke up with him in the first place. He called me exactly five days after the break up. That’s givin ‘er time alright! I ignored his calls for a couple of days, mainly because I didn’t actively have to ignore them. He would call when I was in class and I simply did not return the calls. That’s not the same as ignoring his calls is it? I mean, I didn’t watch his name (which I’ve changed to Cheap Fcuk in my cell’s list of contacts by the way, not only is it a fitting name but it also showcases my ten year old name calling side, so we all win) flashing on my cell when he called and chose to ignore the incessant ringing all the while laughing an evil laugh mwHA-hahahah.

After the second message from him in as many days I decided to tell him that I just wasn’t ready to be friends. I don’t know why I felt I owed him an explanation. I mean we’d already broken up, I had earned the right to totally ignore his calls at my will at this point. Of course I’ve never been the kind of woman to leave well enough alone so I IM’d him and told him that I wasn’t ready to be friends and that I wanted to tell him as much because I didn’t just want to ignore his calls. I felt pretty well satisfied with myself after that conversation. Not only had I handled things in a mature fashion but I’d also learned, straight from the horses mouth, that he wasn’t taking the break up well at all. (Yes, yes I’m catty but aren’t we all? Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten a boost after learning something similar about an ex!)

Again, NOT being one to leave well enough alone (I really need to work on this), I promptly awoke the next morning crying my eyes out at the thought of not talking to him indefinitely. I pulled myself together and hauled tail to the office, where I sat at my desk and silently cried some more. By the way, crying at work: so NOT professional but I couldn’t help it. Since it was Good Friday, a lot of my co workers weren’t around and since my desk faces away from any other life form, no one saw me (excuses!).

This is where it gets grisly: I picked up the phone and called his number. When he answered I said hello and proceeded to cry. That’s all I did, cry to him. For ten minutes. And gave away all my power.

The Easy Breakup

I’ve had break ups in my life that were relatively easy:

• Me: “Lets just be friends (because I ran across someone way more interesting than you and I’d like to focus my attention on him)“
• Me: “I can’t do this anymore (because you’re obviously not over your divorce and I can’t be your therapist)“
• Him: “This isn’t going anywhere (because I’m a good Indian boy and though I’m not religious NOW I hope to become religious one day and our religions are not the same. This was fine for the past year or so but I just came back from the motherland where my parents brainwashed me so now I have to go)”

Although no breakup is easy (okay the first two that I mentioned were almost a breeze for me), some are harder than others. The current break up is particularly difficult, in part because I underestimated my need to wallow and cry. The last 2 months of the relationship were so bad that when I finally told him that it was over, a huge sense of relief washed over me. I felt like Superwoman..like I could do anything and I was flying high. For approximately two days. Then Superwoman crashed with a thud back to earth and was left to nurse her injuries. Its been one hell of an emotional roller coaster ride since the crash.

I mistakenly thought that since some of my other self initiated breakups were easy, this one would be too. Its not. I actually loved this one (gasp!). As if love’s not hard enough, I didn’t have all the answers as to what made this relationship just stop working. I’m a girl that needs answers. She likes to have everything and everyone in life figured out and analyzed to death. I know life doesn’t always work this way and this is probably the biggest factor for the anxiety that I deal with in my head.

Anyway, getting back to this former relationship: it was so good in the beginning, just when I thought someone like him didn’t exist he appeared out of thin air and was so supportive, funny and sweet. And adoring, did I mention adoring? 6 months into the relationship he stopped being all of these things and became moody and dark. Sometimes I am as sharp as a tack and other times I’m not quite the sharpest tool in the shed and this was a time for the latter (those darn emotions clouded my logic!) so I struggled with his moods, silently at first and then with him. I talked to him about it, wanted to hash out every little detail of how he’d changed, asked him why. He said he didn’t know. DIDN’T KNOW. For someone who likes to know exactly what makes her tick, when and how, this dumbstruck me. Your entire personality has changed and you don’t know why? This had already knocked me on my ass and my relationship compass was bouncing all over the place when he started to pick fights with me for the littlest of things and blame all of his problems, our problems on me. That’s when I had to get serious about what to do about it all. The only answer was to get out. This relationship had gone from almost perfect to very unhealthy and it was time for this diva to go. Out she went but its not easy without all the answers.

The Frog Prince

I can’t remember when I fell in love with frogs but I remember why. You know that saying “you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince”? Well that was me. In some ways, it still is.

In my early and mid twenties, I found myself going through relationships looking for my prince and not finding him. For a while, I was frantic. Where was he? Why couldn’t I find him yet? I was already 24-25-26… and the clock was ticking. It sounded just like the clock in my dining room, an incessantly loud and obnoxious tick tick (no tock). The clock wasn’t an internal biological clock that some women say drives them to look for a prime specimen of the opposite sex to procreate with. No, I’ve never really had that kind of inkling or urgency. This was the clock of spinsterhood that was instituted by my parents and family, by the people around me. You can take the Indian out of India but you can’t take India out of the Indian. There was a mad rush among Indian women my age to find that suitable boy and get hitched ASAP. I on the other hand, being aware of the mad rush decided to look for the most unsuitable boys possible and have one helluva good time with them. My friends were getting hitched while I was getting..well..you get the picture.

Its not like I didn’t hear the ticking in my head. I’m very sensitive to sounds so YES I heard it. I also fielded the questions from my mother’s friends and acquaintances (“Why haven’t you found someone yet, its time now its TIME”) as well as the offers to ’set me up’ with their son, nephew, neighbor, third cousin twice removed. And you know what I did? I ignored them and lived my life the way I wanted to. Its who I am. I hate being told what to do and when to do it, especially if I don’t agree with it.

While having a good time with all of these Mr. Wrongs though, I did want to find my Mr. Right (who doesn’t?). This is where the frogs come in. They became a symbol of all the frogs I’d kissed in the past and no doubt will kiss in the future with the hope that one of them will eventually be my prince. I’m not a sucker for fairy tales and happily ever after anymore (live life long enough and it knocks it right outta ya) but I do believe he’s out there. Someone who gets me and laughs at my jokes, someone who understands my moods: when to leave me alone and when to hold me close. He’s out there, my Frog Prince and the stuffed, plastic, glass and digital frogs I find around my personal space are the symbol of that hope.

Its Broken

I tossed and turned last night and woke up with a headache, thanks to you. You haunted my half sleep and I tried to push you out. Out of my head, my bed, my life. Periodically, I would doze off but eventually I’d awake again and have only four letter expletives to say, directed toward you.

When I called you to tell you it was over, that I’d made up my mind you were shocked but calm. You didn’t fight for it and I knew you wouldn’t. I know you were thinking “she broke up with me while I was standing on the street in front of a bar”. Yes, yes I did. I couldn’t take it anymore, this relationship, the way you made me feel guilty for feeling my feelings, for expressing them, for crying when I felt the need. I felt stifled, suffocated, like I wasn’t allowed to think my own thoughts. Slowly you tried to mold me into who you wanted me to be and I fought it all the way. When you’d encroach too far upon my sense of self, I’d strike back like a cobra, swift and fierce and you’d retreat. You’d coo at me and tell me you loved me until I believed you again and began to question myself all over. A vicious circle that I was FINALLY compelled to break.