Tick Tock

Well, it's been some time since I have written-which is perfect for my topic about Time!

Time has been talked about, sang about and written about since the beginning of...well, time.

It dictates most of our world, dividing our lives into ages, dates, alarm clocks, and assessing our success. There are many ways we keep track of it; watches, cell phones, sun cycles, seasons, square boxes on pieces of paper, and in memories. It is elusive and priceless, but can come at a cost.

I think time is often a ticking bomb in relationships. From the very first glance of attraction the stop watch is set. Tick Tick Tick, softly tapping beneath our hearts and our thoughts.

Usually in the beginning we let the time spent with our significant other consume us, and if we don't it is considered odd or damaging.
I honestly don't know if that is true or not; I am sure it is different for every couple.

What I do know, however, is that there are times when one needs time to collect their own thoughts at their own pace-without someone hovering over them. There are times when one needs to sit in their room and listen to new music and paint their toenails.

Lately I have been letting my nail polish crack and fade and I have been listening to the same songs for months. I want to split my time and spend it catching up with myself and take the other part and immerse myself in him...but I know that the latter will only make things worse.

You see if you allow yourself to get too far away from, well, yourself it will damage the relationship. Because, he fell in love with you, so don't lose yourself. And you need to know yourself to conduct a healthy relationship.

Like right now for example; I want to go pick him up and spend the night wrapped up in his arms. However I know I have time to do things I love, even things I've committed to (art and music). Sometimes I just want him around all the time to keep me company while I do these things, but I don't want to lose my sense of independence either.


Another thing, tick tick, is how time affects the longevity and status of every relationship. How long before you decide to become official? Is there is time frame that needs to be met before it becomes too late? Or worse yet, too early?

For me it always seems that my relationships happen when they are ready, not when I am, and develop at their own pace-again-not mine. When I have learned to take it really slow, the relationship throws me for a loop and happens quickly and easily. When I am dying to fall in love no one is around.

I have this feeling that the relationship I am in right now is going to be ready for me before I had planned. Which gives me potential to mess it up more so.
I also have a couple friends that seem to be in this predicament. They say they are not ready for "the one" yet. They are supposed to have other things in place first.

Well as my therapist says and as the almighty powers have shown us time and time again; if we stick to schedules and time tables and sun dials too much we might miss the goofy pictures on the calendar or the sunset.

And you don't want to miss the sunrise too much.
Oh look at the time, gotta run.

Cinematic Love

In the movies there tends to be a reasonably predictable formula for how a love story begins and ends depending on genre.

In a romantic comedy the couple either starts off as friends or strangers who meet under very odd and unrealistic circumstances. They stumble into some weird series of events that stand to keep them apart until they finally realize the timing is right and they end up happily clinging to one another despite any discord.

In a drama the couple often meets under a more traditional circumstance; work, through friends, arranged marriage, ect. Then they either fight with each other or a string of dramatic circumstance to end up together despite intense strife, or someone dies- probably in a dual or a war.

In horror or action flicks, the guy thinks the girl is hot and vice versa. In the end after sex, the guy usually saves the girl and more sex ensues.

My point?
Predictable. In a good way- people like the expected- most people. This is why the movie formula continues as it has before bringing in millions or billions to satisfy with a predictable story. A story that doth not require too much thought or emotional quandary.

I was never one of those movie goers. I wanted a slap in the face, something connecting me to the strange and unpredictable world I saw around me. I wanted to be surprised. I wanted to leave the movie pissed off that someone died or left in a romantic comedy, or for a seemingly happy ending in a drama really leave off with a epilogue of a boring and struggling marriage.

So why when my story goes non-accordingly to plan do I get upset? After wishing for a quirky and unassuming tale for so many years, did I want the blockbuster effect in my world?
Have they finally brainwashed me enough where I could not find the beauty in chaos?
I refuse.

I am newly taken to a man who has made it easily difficult to apprehend him on circumstances of oddity. Which I appreciate. And when we finally decided to jump ship and swim in the waters of commitment everything went haywire- yet we are together. We are together and very happy.
Despite our fairytale planning and exquisite execution, we ended up feeling whipsawed and dizzy in confusion. That wasn't supposed to be the aftermath, but it was.

Therefore I can only now assume that I finally got that slap in the face I so longed for. I'll be honest, at first it didn't feel so good, but now I know that this is what makes our love, our fear, our hopes-our lives-real. There is beauty in that.

Hopefully that beauty never goes unappreciated again, despite any struggles we may face.

Mr. Perfect

Awhile ago I was inspired to think about my "perfect" man; and being the extravagant creator I am I decided to take it one step further than thought alone. I decided to create him. He would, of course, only exist in theory and on paper, but he wouldn't just be a series of traits that are acceptable to me.
He would have a face, a name, a past, and a favorite color-to name a few.

I took some time and thought seriously, first about what he would look like. I had an initial idea but did some minor research until i combined the image in my mind with one of a famous actor. I then decided my next step was to figure out what we do on weekends, in the fall.

Every time I picture the two of us together he is wearing a gray pea coat, and a reddish scarf; his hands jambed into his pockets. I would imagine us laughing and walking through a tree filled park and sitting down to play a coyly competitive game of chess. Then we would lounge under a tree and talk about randomness and feel the light breeze on our faces-brisk, almost winter.

This image that consumed my thoughts jarred my reality. In my reality I honestly would never imagine dating a guy that would wear a pea coat and a reddish scarf; and I would definitely not imagine us in a cooler climate, playing chess. I like the game but I haven't played in years.

This got me to thinking about how I came up with this scenario, and this man.
Is it an accumulation of where I grew up and how I perceive myself? Or is it a picture perfect movie scene I've been made to believe equates to happiness and perfection?

I have not reached an answer about this completely, but I did make an astounding realization:
I haven't thought about Mr. Perfect all weekend. Where as I tried to fill him into my thoughts when they were free to me during the week, I had no inkling of him these past few days. Why?
Because instead of thinking about what I wanted, I was with someone who consumed my thoughts and emotions so much that there wasn't even enough room left to try to make space for an idea of what a man should be.

I think that thinking about Mr. Perfect is a good homework assignment to reach in and find out how you perceive yourself and what you think relationships should be like, and why; but it is even better to be with someone... someone not perfect... someone who would never wear a a gray pea coat with a reddish scarf.

Someone who says idiotic things sometimes and instead of playing chess with you, holds your hand tight when he feels that you need something to keep you safe. Someone who is shorter than Mr. Perfect but understands what you are thinking just by looking into your eyes. Someone who can make you live right here and now and not have to think about what you want, because if you wanted anything else time wouldn't have flown by as fast as it had.

Maybe someday I will perfect my idea of Mr. Perfect, but I hope-even more than ever getting to meet this Mr. Perfect-that along the way I have someone to make me forget about him.

Men and Sandwiches

I'm the type of person that has a "usual".

The type of person that on most any given day will go into a sandwich shop and get the "usual", my usual.
I like it somewhat plain, ordinary, but with a little twist about it. For example, I get the provolone instead of American and i like to tang it up with ranch, never mayo.

I like it that way, I crave it that way; but every once in awhile I stray. I think maybe if I add more spice, or take away some of the fattening parts I'll enjoy it more. I usually don't.
But at least I have something I can fall back on if my adventures in sandwichdom don't unfold to my liking. I have my usual. It is always there, and it always satisfies. I know what I like... in a sandwich.

So pardon the hysterics, but why can't relationships be the same way??
Shouldn't there be some system, something that I can use as a gauge, something usual-that I can pick? A series of parts and pieces one can put together, a special, a mainstay, a classic-your classic; a type.

Why is it that with every guy I am interested in or that comes into my life has a different kind of cheese? It might get boring, but maybe if there were only a couple cheeses to chose from, it'd be simpler to weed out the cheese we don't like.

My problem is that sometimes I think I know what I want in someone. Or I just accept that certain traits are inadmissible. In this shop I can't custom order. Not fair? Or is it?
Although I'd really like to be able to make my own , er sandwich, and eat it whenever I have the craving, it's completely unrealistic.
Have I mentioned I am an idealist?

I know what sandwich I like, I know my favorite color and what style of clothing looks best on me. I know that if I try too hard at something, I will fail and I know that I will always be more comfortable sleeping over at my place than yours..
So how come after over 20 boyfriends, 50 dates, and 3 serious relationships do I NOT know what I want in a man?