you ain’t never had a (girl)friend like me.

happy 2013! the highlight of my past year was bonding with magical dolphins on a trip to commemorate my baba. i forgot the dolphin’s name so i have been affectionately referring to her as: tuna. quite a catchy name for my mammal pal, in my opinion.

my hunky boyfriend and i had the pleasure of cuddling with these loving creatures on a recent vacation. which brought me to the conclusion that i definitely need a pet dolphin…

aside from the time spent in the water with my new best friends, i particularly enjoyed the moment when i overheard the following conversation.

adorable little girl (to her parents while looking through photos from people playing with the dolphins): she looks like princess jasmine!
me (to my hunk): is she talking about ME?!
my hunk: of course she is.
and I’ve been reminding him ever since.
“she said i look like princess jasmine” has been repeated countless times since. no time for modesty!

which is why it was especially funny the other day when my boyfriend said something about an ex-girlfriend and i told him it wasn’t my fault his dating history read like a line-up of the seven dwarves:
lazy
crazy
ditzy
mousey
trampy
psycho
clingy

my point is: he ain’t never had a (girl)friend like me (hair flip).

i mean, we can’t all be princesses.

feelings fade.

i’ve been deep down in the depths of a funk. i keep trying to pull myself out and somehow keep falling back in. at first, i tried to blame the weather, but it’s more than that…it’s heartbreak.

not over a boy (though i have had my fair share of those), i miss my dad. friends tell me my feelings are normal and it’s natural to feel this way, but i can’t help but feel guilty for being so sad recently. i know that loss is an inevitable part of the human experience and i am SO fortunate and grateful for everything i do have. which led me to thinking…about heartbreak in general. and my experiences with it.

supposedly, every woman wants a bad boy*, and i’ve certainly had my share. there was the dark haired blue eyed screw up in hawaii, the boy with tattoos instead of morals, the alcoholic who i watched deteriorate before my eyes, the chef who fought instead of cried, and the kid who womanized and then moved across the country.

i finally quit bad boys cold turkey after jb, the unemployed alcoholic with a great sense of humor and dreams of owning a bar. a few years ago, the two of us enjoyed a hilariously tumultuous time together, rehashing the in-and-outs of his suckjob career and pondering why life, mostly his, was little more than an enormous pile of elephant droppings. instead of a girlfriend, i became a backbone, a shrink, a cheerleader, a roommate. what really ended things was my dad’s diagnosis with cancer and the realization that i was wasting my time with someone with whom i couldn’t envision a future.

truthfully, i was a bit sorry to see him go. he drank. he bellyached. he spiraled downward. he left town.

and later, in the days after he moved, i would get calls from jb. since our split, he’d thought a lot about me. of course, i should ignore his calls…but he sounded so sincere that it left me wondering why bad was so hard to shake.

is it because we believe we can save these guys? or is that we’re still a bunch of cave women pining away for the beefy and strong? we want men who can defend us when necessary against spiders and catcalls and this mean ol’ grizzly bear called life. but we also want someone who isn’t afraid to burrow down deep into the dirty muck of his own soul, to bring up the pain there and share it with that one special gal. in relationships, women want to feel together, to suffer and prevail as one. shared feelings equal intimacy. if there’s anything bad boys seem to offer, it’s a well of steamy emotion.

and intensity. good guys may challenge our minds, but bad boys test our mettle. a significantly more erotic interplay.

but there’s a fly in the ointment. these boys rarely heal. they just keep fighting, getting tattoos, puking up the bile of their own internal suffering and dribbling it into the lives of their worn-out girlfriends. bad boys don’t care about a woman’s personal crap because they’re too busy continually stepping in their own.

a man who deals with his issues is hot. a man who’s conscious of other people’s feelings is positively breath-taking. and a man who transcends the pain of his own life story? give this dude a medal.

i stood at that defining moment where i could either move toward emotional redemption and romantic health, or get sucked back into bad boy-ism and a life of needless distress. and then, i deleted his messages.

so, as i struggle to pull myself out of this deep well of sadness i remind myself that happiness is a choice…and although i can’t help but miss my dad – i can choose to remember him with a smile. and if the occasional tear slips its way out, then i choose to not feel badly about it. i just need a little time until the sad fades into the background.

*situations have been condensed & altered for anonymity’s sake

attack of the 5’10” woman.

in the past couple weeks, i’ve been asked no less than ten times if i got a perm. (i didn’t).

the truth is, i’m just too lazy to straighten my hair.

i have two jobs, a boyfriend, a blog, and a bratty pup ~ there’s no time to tame these locks. i’m lucky if i manage to put my clothes on right-side out…

so, lately i’ve been rocking my big hair (and it is BIG)… oddly enough, i’ve received more hair compliments in the past few weeks, than…umm…ever. which i find hysterical because i don’t think i’ve ever spent less time on my hair.

*sigh*

i digress though…the c-c-c-c-curly locks reminded me of the sex and the city episode where they talk about the movie, “the way we were” in relation to big’s new fiancée.

side bar: i am fully aware that the modern, sophisticated girl isn’t supposed to like the aforementioned show, but i am neither modern nor sophisticated (i consider myself more of a vintage classic, read: an old lady in a younger body) and amidst the froth and frivolousness are gems of bona fide truth. and furthermore, i love the show, the fashion, the froth, and even the frivolusness.

the school of thought is there are two kinds of women:
the pretty and simple girls
the katie girls: wild, untamed, passionate, ambitious

if my hair is any indication, it’s pretty clear which category i fall into…after all, i’m sassy, opinionated, mouthy, inappropriate, challenging, have chipped nail polish, forget to wear make-up, and have seriously wild hair.

while i agree with the notion of the two types of women, i think when it comes to a break up…what’s the point of comparing?

hypothetically speaking (and this is all hypothetical, right ;)) i like to think that if it were me, i wouldn’t trouble myself with the question: why her and why not me?

frankly: who cares?
complicated/simple
curly/straight
ambitious/complacent

who really wants to be the former girlfriend of his with lingering feelings…or maybe just some sort of attachment towards him, who is spending her valuable time worrying about his life when she could be out living her own?

go shopping.
call a friend.
GO TO THE GYM.
eat a cookie.
live YOUR life.

honestly, honey, what difference does it make?

bottom line: you weren’t the one for him and it isn’t meant to be. MOVE ON.

whatever the case, that magical feeling that makes a man want to wife a woman wasn’t there. that doesn’t devalue any past relationships, it just means the relationship existed on borrowed time and eventually you found yourselves at a crossroads where you needed to decide if you were going to walk down a new path together or continue separately…you don’t usually come to that revelation until you’re at the proverbial fork in the road. sometimes that’s months into the relationship, sometimes it takes longer…

my current boyfriend and i knew very early on that this was ‘it’, but there were times when i held on longer than i needed to and fought far too hard and long for something that wouldn’t end up being right.

every relationship is a learning experience and when one ends, it’s prudent to take your lessons and move forward. sure, it’s nice to be nostalgic, but being bitter isn’t pretty. after all, ‘bitterness is a poison pill you swallow and hope the other person dies.’

i may not ever be the girl with the perfect hair or the most appropriate behavior, but i wouldn’t wanna be anyone else.

‘i don’t entirely approve of some of the things i have done, or am, or have been. but i’m me. god knows, i’m me.’ elizabeth taylor

that same look.

my boy bestie has often mentioned that he thinks it’s interesting that i manage to stay friends (or at the very least, friendly) with most of my exes.

the way i see it, why wouldn’t you? once the feelings are gone and you no longer feel a magnetic pull towards the person, shouldn’t a friendship remain?

obviously, i know this isn’t always the case. both parties need to be on the same page. and sometimes there is lingering hurt…or feelings.

my very favorite ex-boyfriend is still in my life. i was very curious to see how he’d interact with my current boyfriend, since that situation can have a high potential for awkwardness. naturally, they get along great… i mean, they clearly have things in common. one thing, anyway.

it can be weird being the common denominator in a friendship type situation. exes aside, you never really know how people are going to mesh.

a few days after my old bf met my new & shiny bf he text me.

old: your man seems great. he’s a good guy and really into you, i can tell.
me: how?
old: he has that same look.
me: what look?
old: the one i had. he’s in awe of you.

it’s so SO mutual.

the eternal optimist.

once upon a time there was a boy (or several boys…) i used to write to. this morning i read some old heartfelt emails. it made me nostalgic. not for the boy, but for the writing…

and for the encouragement he gave me. he pushed me to write. all the time. an excerpt: ‘you crack me up, and you make me sad, and that is what a storyteller does. stick with it boots. everybody has bad days. but the good days are the ones that matter more.’

there are so many things I want to be doing: writing, reading, resting, romancing, relaxing (apparently anything that starts with an ‘r’ and I’m there.)

i am doing some of these things, and waiting for others to come along, and dreaming about the possibility of the impossible, but it’s a tough place to be.

dreaming.

it reminds me of a night out with my boy bestie (the details of which i will not share…because of man code. or bestie code. or whatever means i won’t blab on a bestie)

he was talking about how he was unable to carry a conversation with a certain very pretty girl… and we talked about how some people just aren’t good listeners. and we lamented about how it’s hard to meet good people. and then i looked up and to the right and saw the moon. it was no super moon, but it was still gorgeous. and i looked at him and said ‘well, at least the moon is still beautiful’ and he laughed at me and said ‘you really are the eternal optimist. we’re talking about how people are mostly shitty and you start spouting about how nature is pretty.’

it’s true though, isn’t it? there’s beauty in everything…and maybe a not-so-great boy drifts out of your life so a perfect one can walk in?

it’s a nice thought.