Posted on by shirindawna

the nail in the coffin.

i’ve had an ongoing debate with my bestie for a couple years. the topic is so silly i’m (almost) embarrassed to confess it: it’s about who would be who if our group of friends were the characters in sex and the city.

our charlotte is obvious.

and miranda hasn’t been too much of a debate.

if you ask me, this bestie is more of a samantha than a carrie…but her husband begs to differ. he marked me as samantha and her as a carrie.

the thing is, that makes no sense to me…i’m a mostly a prude when it comes to dating and i raaaaarely give up the good-good (which isn’t very carrie, but it’s even less samantha!)

…in my head (and just about every other girl, i’m sure – but this is MY blog, i get to be self-indulgent), i’m SO carrie. in SO many ways.

i have always identified with carrie. she’s all about opening your heart and your mind at the same time. she’s witty, she’s sharp, she’s quirky, but still sexy – in a very accessible, believable way (no time for modesty). carrie and my “storylines” have coincided as i have watched (and re-watched) the show. i feel the inevitable pull from older influences, (and society in general) to “settle down,” whatever that means. and yet, for carrie and i, marriage, babies, and “happily ever after” is not the be-all, end-all in life.

yes ~ i’m mouthy, inappropriate, crass, and impulsive, but at the end of the day, i’m an old-fashioned girl, just like ms bradshaw. we’re sentimental and reflective. we believe in the proverbial ‘one,’ we believe in romance, and most of all: we believe in love.

all women are complex, but i relate to carrie a lot in the way that her needs and feelings are often conflicted and result in charged and sometimes difficult relationships with men. she’s had to know when to walk away, and it’s bittersweet. it’s never easy to strike a balance. not just anyone will do…

when searching for a soulmate, one can never be too picky. and so continues the endless search. carrie was looking for love, real love. “ridiculous, consuming, can’t live without each other love.”

and…
so.
am.
i.

but those things are mostly generalizations…so, let’s get to the nitty gritty. (here’s a short recap):

we’re both writers.
we’re both clothing addicts.
we’re quirky.
we’re neurotic.
we’re both left-handed.

when my last boyfriend and i broke up, he left me the lovely post-it that you see in the top of this post. umm…berger much?! my bestie & i had a nice laugh at this when it happened. a good hard, belly laugh. and we agreed then that i get to be carrie.

but it just got better. so, of course, i HAD to share. i recently heard from my first boyfriend (also my first ever smooch), and he asked me out (i really hope he doesn’t read my blog). after my butterflies subsided, i immediately thought of the ‘boy, interrupted’ episode of sex and the city. and about what carrie said ‘seriously. if i had the guy in high school, what have i been doing for the last twenty years?’

i called my bestie and we agreed that the nail was in the coffin:
i.
am.
carrie.

bummer that her husband married a whore. (or maybe not?!) 😉

Posted on by shirindawna

pet names.

‘i don’t see myself ever having kids’

there were the words i had been anticipating for an entire year. the subject that had been the elephant in the room for months. always there. for that almost completely blissful 17 months, i felt like i lived in a zoo exhibit. i named the elephant Sadie. just like I wanted to our first girl. but everyone knows naming your kids is the kiss of death for any relationship, so i stuck with naming imaginary animals. it was my way of trying to make peace with the tension. it was my way of lying to myself.

the chemistry was palpable the very first time i met him. we were standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, he turned to me and gasped ‘what color are your eyes? they’re like explosions.’ i turned my face upwards and surprised myself by discovering i’d rather look into the blues of his eyes than into the pacific below. i felt sparks. he tried to kiss me soon after. i didn’t let him. he kept trying. he broke me down.

it’s hard to remember now how sad i was in this time. that sadness permeated the world around me. he understood the sadness better than i ever could; he had been there. He broke me out of it. against my will. i held back. i put up walls. i shut him out.

he never stopped trying. he won me over with his persistence and his words. when i stopped answering his phone calls and replying to his texts, he wrote to me:

with you. i fell so hard. and so fast. i love our communication. two wordsmiths. painting each other pictures. daily. it’s has been. beautiful. i have come to adore you.

my rant had nothing to do with your friends. or family. or guys. it was just raw understanding. coming out in a less than pleasing sort of way. because i, did not want to see it. because i, thought that i could make it work. based on love alone.

you say things like “needy” and “possessive.” i think of it as support, love, and being a priority. i am not your average lover. and i expect no less.

we never got comfortable enough for you to see how independent i really am.

we are. so similar. but that 5%. it seems it might be the most important part. we’re missing.

i don’t want you to have to sacrifice your time, or your space. for me. love, in my world, doesn’t even see those things. just you. and letting you in. and letting you have anything i have. making you number one. that’s how i operate.

i wasn’t always this way. but like i said. i’m fucked for life. i lost the best i ever had. and now i love, everyday, like there will not be another.

it’s unfair of me to want you to fit me in, the way i can fit you in me.

it’s unfair of me to expect you to change.

it’s unfair of me, to hold you back.

it’s unfair of me to need support from you, during this tough personal time, that you’re not ready to give.

i’m sad. but i’m thankful that we made this special connection. i’ll carry a piece of you always. in me.

i’ve meant everything. i love you. completely.

i hope you find the perfect person. because. you. are. amazing.

and so…

i let him in. i allowed him to break down the walls. i fell.

hard.

he caught me. he reminded me what it felt like to connect with someone. he made me laugh and held me when i cried.

it’s been nine months since i’ve seen him. ironically, the same amount of time it takes to bring a baby to term. we’ve only spoken once. his voice reminds me that he’s there. that despite the physical distance between us, i am still the one he wants. the one he loves. it is him that i wanted to be surrounded by when i woke in the morning, arms tangled in sheets and love. to see his eyes crusted with sleep but wondrous with wonder, his skin smooth with rest.

i’m not that girl whose lock of hair he brushed out of her eyes a year and a half ago. he’s not that boy who wore ripped blue converse sneakers as we walked around my favorite park. and yet, somehow, we are. we are still here. his voice wraps me up in hugs when he physically can’t, though he’ll wrap his arms around a camera as if pixels could transfer warmth. my teasing cadences make him rumble with laughter, traversing the 2,000ish miles as though he were sitting right across from me.

i didn’t know it was possible to fall out of love and back in again. to know that a friendship could mean so much more than a lover. though we claim to not be in any position to be together, i can’t help but wonder how would it be if the distance weren’t the obstacle now.

and yet, we return, we fall back into the same positions, of love, of wonder, of wanting and care, as though he were still only a simple subway stop away.

we fell in love so quickly. we didn’t have time to think. we lept. we flew. in different directions. he doesn’t want kids. suddenly, proximity doesn’t indicate distance. and our differences are insurmountable.

Posted on by shirindawna · 3 Comments

he ain’t worth missing?

of course he is!

but don’t get it twisted.

you can miss someone, still not want to be with them & think they’re not right for you.

it’s nice to be nostalgic.

and an emotional text fueled by the sunday night blues (coupled with the fact that you’ve only been kissed twice in six months) makes for amusing reading in the light of day.

happy monday.