The One in Which I Get My Perfect Sunday… After Many Bad Days

Two years ago I wrote about my perfect Sunday. It consisted of brunch and football and naps and reading (you can read about it here, if you need a little refresher ). So why am I bringing this up now, you ask? Well, because last weekend I finally experienced my perfect Sunday. It wasn’t to the T- my guy didn’t whip up breakfast sammies (I made lox and bagels, breakfast potatoes, fruit, and pineapple mimosas. High five, me.), our team didn’t win, and I ended the day with a wicked migraine and leftovers instead of Port Fonda, but regardless, it was perfect. It was football, chilly but not too chilly weather, midday naps, cuddling on the couch perfect.

And that’s what life has been like for the last three months… pretty damn perfect.

My absence from the blog hasn’t been all sunshine and roses and too busy to write because of love. It’s been due to work and adventures and heartbreak and terrible situations, but for the last three months, yes, it’s because I’ve been too damn busy being happy.

Since the breakup with Long Distance Ex, and thus my less frequent posting, I found myself without much desire to write. I spent so much time keeping myself busy with friends and outings and I did that for a specific reason- I didn’t want time to think. I didn’t want time to feel the disappointment of heartbreak, of feeling like I’d been a fool to think I could have made that relationship work, of feeling like I was never again going to let myself be that open with someone. I wanted to think about one day at a time. At what I was going to do on the weekend, who I would hang out with, where we would go out to, what shows we would see. The only future I wanted to focus on was adventures with friends like New Orleans and Mexico and Denver (yes, it’s been a great year for adventures). And so that’s what I did. Sitting down to write anything of substance here meant sitting down with thoughts and feelings I wasn’t ready to have. So did dating, so that was something I didn’t do as well… until suddenly I did.

Of course the never opening up to anyone again thing didn’t last forever. I met someone who was going through a rough breakup as well; a separation. But turns out he realized he wasn’t ready for that separation to turn into a divorce, so once again I had struck out in the love department. Shortly after that I found myself in a situation I never thought I’d be in; the other woman. It wasn’t as cut and dry as that (not something I’m saying to defend myself, I know there were things I did that weren’t the greatest) and (yes, this part is in my defense) I didn’t know that I was the other woman. I was told that there was no relationship between the guy I was spending time with and his “friend.” But, as things go, there was. Things took a turn quickly in all three of our relationships, and have remained different to the day. It was messy and hurtful and upsetting. It ruined friendships and trust and, what hurt me the most in the end, was it ruined the way I felt about myself. I spent a lot of time feeling ashamed and thinking of how stupid I was to end up in a place I said I’d never be. Of how I’d never be able to trust another guy again, and even worse, uncertain if I’d be able to trust myself. I went back to keeping myself too busy to think about much. I went on more adventures- Coachella and camping trips and Bonnaroo- went to shows, hung out with friends, worked late, and basically did whatever I could to keep my mind quiet. Then, one night at a smelly, humid, dive bar, I met someone that has since kept me busy and quieted my mind from all the doubts and past pains.

If a rom com needed a meet cute, the writers could steal ours. Nearly a year ago Mr. T and I met online. He had just moved back to KC and I had just started to think maybe I could date again. We had a ton in common and I remember him being one of the few guys I actually messaged with more than once or twice before rolling my eyes at and feeling exasperated by. But, I quickly found myself certain that I really wasn’t ready to date at all and ditched the site and all prospects altogether. Of course I met the above mentioned fellas over the next few months and attempted romance with them, and (now I know) luckily for me, none of them stuck. Then, come Spring a friend mentioned setting up another friend of mine with a guy. He was great, she said. They had been out once, but weren’t a match, but really thought our friend may like him. So, of course, being the Nosy Parker I am, I peeped one of his social media profiles to check him out. Hey, I thought to myself, why isn’t she setting me up with this guy?! He’s pretty cute and seems rather funny… (Yes, at this point I didn’t put two and two together that it was the same guy I had been talking to about six months prior. Different photo, bad memory, common name, etc, etc.) Well, again, luckily for me, the set up never came to fruition. But, I kept following Mr. T, and he began to follow me as well. Slowly we started interacting with each other. But, this was also while I was fully separating myself from the terrible situation mentioned earlier, so I wasn’t too quick to put my amazing flirting powers to use. And as it turns out, my amazing flirting powers aren’t so amazing after all, because even when I did start dropping hints here and there that I was interested, they weren’t exactly met with reciprocation. To make matters worse, we frequently were at the same shows or events, but still never met. I was beginning to lose hope in the whole endeavor when we were at yet another concert together, but not together, when I finally just laid it out there. I told him what bar I’d be at after the show and that he should come. There. I did it. If he comes, he’s interested. If he doesn’t, well then, that’s strike three in the love game this year and I’ll just throw in the towel and forfeit!

Luckily, he showed up.

I was hot and sweaty and frizzy haired from dancing all night and nervous enough that I let my friend (the same one who was supposed to have been set up with him a few months back, naturally) do most of the talking. Great, I thought to myself, they’re sitting here talking about soccer and I have nothing to add because I have zero interest in it and now I’ve blown it and this whole experiment in being brave enough to invite him out has been all for naught! Later, the three of us walked out of the bar and to his truck, which happened to be on the way to my house, and said our goodbyes. I tried to convince myself that, if anything, I’ve got a new friend who clearly likes going to shows and that’d be good enough. But, when he messaged me half an hour later, I knew just being friends wouldn’t be good enough for either of us.

We’ve been inseparable ever since. (Seriously, Hollywood, feel free to give me a call. The sheer amount of times we were at tiny concerts over the course of eight months and never ran into each other is rom com gold.)

I fear writing about Mr. T because, as we’ve all seen in the past, as soon as I write about someone things usually end up taking a turn for the worst. I’m crazy superstitious and worry discussing a guy with anyone, much less on a blog, means we will be doomed to fail. But, the last few months have shown me that our relationship trumps superstition. It finally feels good to sit down and think again. It feels good to be in the present, but also finally feels good to start thinking about the future. I don’t find myself doing whatever I can to avoid certain thoughts and feelings. And I don’t find myself regretting and beating myself up for past mistakes. The last few months have shown me that all those doubts and negative thoughts I was having about myself after the terrible situation were unfounded. Sure, I made some mistakes and made some selfish decisions, but everyone is guilty of that at some point. That situation didn’t change who I was at the core. It didn’t make me a slut or mean or uncaring or unworthy of respect and love. Being with Mr. T and caring for him has shown me all the good in me is still there, alive and kickin’, and punishing myself wasn’t necessary. I also didn’t need to keep punishing others for past lies and heartbreaks. If the eight months of near misses with Mr. T taught me anything it’s that everything truly happens for a reason. Those past heartbreaks have made me stronger, made me certain of things I will never put up with again, but also softer and more appreciative of all the great parts of Mr. T. Looking back, I know having been in relationships with withholding men now make me love his giving heart more than I ever would have had I not known the pain of being denied love by people you care for. I’m not saying meeting Mr. T has been a cure all. My neediness and insecurities and self-doubt still creep out. Just last night I laid in bed crying, sure that he didn’t really love me because maybe there really was nothing to love about me. The difference though is he was right there next to me, holding me and letting me cry. Understanding that sometimes it’s just too hard for me to be as strong as I want to be. That those past heartbreaks and mistakes will creep their way in from time to time. But, every time he stays beside me, supporting me and caring for my slightly damaged heart, the past fades a little more and my desire to look towards the future grows.

A Few of My Favorite Things 2014

Another year, another list of favorites. Here are my favorite things of 2014:

Favorite Movie

Gone Girl. Hands down one of the best book to screen adaptations I’ve seen. I know not everyone agrees with me on this, but seeing as how I saw it in August and still find myself thinking back on it, it was pretty damn good for me. Some runners up: Locke. Tom Hardy at his best. Seriously, only someone on his level can pull off a movie that’s only action is him driving for two hours and still leave viewers totally engrossed. Obvious Child. Jenny Slate is climbing her way up my Girl Crush list reeeeeal fast.

Favorite Album

Zaba by Glass Animals. Clearly if you see a band four times in about five months, you’ve got a bit of a thing for them. It doesn’t matter where I am, what I’m feeling, I could listen to that album all the way through and enjoy the shit out of it every time. A close runner up: Singles by Future Islands. This band seems to be a love ‘em or hate ‘em for a lot of people with no middle ground and I am firmly planted on the love ‘em side. I get why people are turned off by them, they are a bit weird and don’t quite fit into one solid genre, but that’s probably what I love the most. That and they are fantastic live. I actually have about 20 albums I was pretty obsessed with this year, so instead of listing them all here, I’ll leave you with this…  

Favorite Book

I’m an absolute crap book nerd. It was such a busy year I maybe ready a dozen books at best. I have at least another dozen I’m about halfway through, and damnit, I will finish them! And of the dozen I actually finished, none of them were published this year. So, my favorite book this year was Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me and Other Concerns by my favorite lady crush, Mindy Kaling. Yes, this was a re-read, but it was just as perfect the second time around. It was most definitely the best thing I could have read post-breakup, and it also doesn’t hurt that she mentions the name Thalia and in my mind, that basically means we are best friends now.

Favorite TV Show

Sons of Anarchy. Seriously. What will I do with myself now that my favorite show is over? Sigh. I guess I’ll rely on the Mindy Project to keep me company on Tuesday nights.

Favorite Concert

If you read my previous blog you know this will be nearly impossible for me to choose. Basically all I did in 2014 was go to concerts. It would seem like an easy choice, Coachella. And yes, totally amazing. But, I also got the chance to see some of my favorite bands in really small venues and that’s kind of hard to top. So for favorite concert I’m going to just go ahead and say all of 2014 was my favorite concert. I have no idea how I’ll top it in 2015, but I can’t wait to try.

Favorite Purchase

A trip to Cancun! What do you when you have a ton of frequent flyer miles you were planning to use for a long distance relationship that ends up going kaput? You use them miles to go on an awesome mini-break with a great friend. In less than three weeks my life will be all sand, sunshine, and all you can drink margaritas!

Favorite Meal

Dear Margaritas in Palm Springs: You are my favorite place in the whole wide world and I dream of your sushi/Mexican/brunch buffet daily. Please stay open forever and ever. Just knowing there’s a place out there where I can get all three of my favorite foods in all you can eat quantities gets me through all the nights of kale salads I intend on eating after the new year.

Favorite Date

This year I, sadly, had the best date of my life. I say sadly because clearly I’m not with the person I had this date with anymore, but, regardless, it really was my favorite date of all time. Long Distance Ex was still working night shifts at the time, so we decided to meet for dinner up by his work. Unfortunately we picked a place that just happened to have two locations on the same street about 10 miles apart, and, unfortunately, OF COURSE I went to the wrong location. I felt like a giant moron, but it was actually kind of great because our relationship was still new and it totally set the tone for us, always able to laugh about anything. Eventually I got to the right location and we had a really great dinner. I mean, the food was fine, basic chain restaurant food, but being together made it great. And that wasn’t even the best part of the date. The best part comes later when he decided to leave work early because he didn’t want our date to be over. It was a perfect night in the beginning of July. Not too hot, not too humid, perfect porch night weather. So that’s exactly what we did. We sat on my back porch, under white Christmas lights and lavender citronella candlelight, listening to music, drinking, and talking for hours. It was almost 1 a.m. before we even noticed how long we had been out there. True, it kind of kills me to write about it now, because looking back, I know that was the night I fell in love with him, but I try not to let that take away from now knowing that every once and awhile perfect nights can happen. Maybe they won’t lead to perfect relationships, but you can always have those perfect nights.

Favorite Guy

None. Despite that perfect night I just described and a lot of really other great times, Long Distance Ex is not my favorite guy of the year. I will forever love what we had together, and probably, in some way, forever love him, but I guess I’m just not willing to give neither he nor any of the other guys I dated this year that title. But, you know who does get it? My friends. Because, in the words of the great Leslie Knope, ovaries before brovaries! Who needs a guy when you have great friends who truly take care of you when you need it? If you’re a frequent reader, you know I’ve been through some shit with men, and this recent break up was no different. What was different was the support I received from my friends, and never once did I have to ask for it. I broke down probably a million and ten times and never once did they do anything but support me. If I were them I would have been really tempted to leave me in my sad-sack state to wallow, but instead they showed up with ice cream and tissues in hand and endless hugs. And, even when they may have pushed a little too hard to get me out of my funk, I knew it was because they cared. So to all my friends, THANK YOU for being my favorite people of 2014. Well, you and Tom Hardy and Charlie Hunnam because… Well, come on. You know why…tumblr_mct2z5kjgz1rvjbdjo1_5002lw9nqdjpg

Getting Back to Good

The last month has been… shitty. Some days are okay. Some days I get relatively close to feeling normal. Some days are even pretty close to great. But there’s still those times, sometimes entire days, where I still feel completely out of sorts. A lot of it has to do with the (ex)boyfriend. After a break up, even after you begin moving on, there’s still those times when the sadness/loss/anger/confusion creeps back in and keeps you from feeling completely whole again. And those times, while lessening, are just… shitty.

It probably doesn’t help much that every day I drive to work I have to pass the place we first met (literally two blocks from my office. Cool.) and be reminded of that excitement and possibility I felt that night. That? Yeah, that probably doesn’t help me in getting back to my old self either. That’s just… shitty.

But, you know what’s not shitty? Keeping myself busier this month than I have in a long time. Spending more time with friends. Trying new things. Forcing myself back into working out. Taking cooking classes. Going to shows solo and meeting new people. And…

GETTING A NEW JOB! Not only do I not have to pass that place that now makes me feel a whole lotta sad feels daily, I also have something really exciting to focus on. It’s been no secret that I’ve been less than thrilled with my current job and really ready for a new challenge, and now finally I have it.

While none of these things truly speed up the broken heart healing process, they do help to keep me feeling positive and happy, and even excited. They make it easier to keep going until the day comes along when I’m finally back to the old me…tumblr_mifxnwn4f41qkn03yo1_400

The Losing Season

I love Kansas City. I have a great amount of Kansas City pride. But, God love ‘em, the Royals season was sadly all too similar to my love life. After years and years of trying their damnedest and still losing, finally all the pieces came together. Finally something just clicked and they were winning. They were great. They were confident. They had been the underdogs for so long that everyone was rooting for them. Everyone wanted this season to finally be the one. And while the final series wasn’t a smooth ride, it really seemed like this was it, this season was the one. Then, suddenly, it was over. Just like that, everything they had been waiting so long for was over. And it was just one small run that came between them and the win. They have to walk off the field, defeated, and watch as someone else enjoys the happiness they thought would be theirs. They came so close. They were great, just not quite great enough.

But, this isn’t the end for the Royals. They will have other seasons. Some they may lose, and maybe someday, one they will finally win. The Royals will shake this loss off… and so will I.

Enough.

It’s nice hearing you’re great. It’s nice hearing a person appreciates all the things you do for them and how you open yourself up to them and how you give your feelings freely to them.

It’s not nice feeling like those things are not enough for them to want to continue on in a relationship with you.

In fact, it’s much worse than “not nice,” it’s more like devastating. It’s soul crushing to feel like you are not enough. And when you are dumped, there’s a very good chance you will spend a lot of time feeling exactly that. Sure, the person you are being dumped by may say it’s nothing you did and that you are, in fact, great, but that does nothing to ease the feeling of not being enough for them. Your friends, your family, anyone will probably tell you you are enough. You gave everything you had, and that was enough. You being you is enough. You being open to loving someone is enough. But, after the person you have fallen in love with gives you the “you are great, but…” talk, you will likely not believe any of this.

You will feel like if you were better in any number of ways the person would want to be with you still. No matter the reasons they are actually ending the relationship, in my case distance and not feeling ready to be in a serious relationship, you will still think it’s you. It has to be you. It has to be things you did. Or things you didn’t do. You question everything about yourself. You think back on your relationship and question every time that person made you feel great and every time you thought you were more than enough for them because of how perfectly things felt, and this makes you think surely you must have missed some huge sign. You must have gotten something wrong. There were no fights or unhappiness or areas of life you completely disagreed on, so it must have been you. More than ever you are certain you are not great. In fact, you think you aren’t even good. Not good enough to receive back the love you have given. It is one of the worst feelings in the world, and there’s no way to cure it. People can tell you until they’re blue in the face that you are great, that you are enough, but when you have been left heartbroken, it’s fairly impossible to believe.

Among all the terrible parts of going through a breakup; the feeling of loss knowing you won’t have that person you were so close with to talk to everyday, the end of all the future plans you’ve made with them, the knowledge that you’ll never fall asleep and wake up in their arms and have that wonderful feeling like all is right in the world, among the myriad of feelings constantly swirling in your head, one of the worst will be feeling like it is all happening because you were not enough.

The Best Worst Feeling in the World

If you know me, or follow my blog at all, you know I have not been particularly lucky in love. My heart has been mishandled and smashed more than a few times and, despite my best, most optimistic efforts, after years of dating I very nearly gave up on the idea of finding a person who excites me. Who I crave and craves me in return. Who makes me believe that falling in love isn’t the craziest thing in the world. But then a few months ago, right when I was on the verge of accepting permanent singleness, I met a guy. (Score one for all the people out there who told me time and time again I’d meet someone when I stopped looking!)

While I hate to admit this, this very well could have been a one night fling. Yes, he was cute and sweet and there was plenty of, ahem, “spark,” but there were a few things that held me back from immediately hoping or wanting it to turn into more. They were all small things like, he’s younger than me, he worked nights, and did I mention he’s MUCH younger than me? Small things for sure, but for a person who has had more than enough pain in the relationship department, even the smallest red flags can seem too big to overcome. I hemmed and hawed for a few days, and I’m not exactly sure what it was that made me get out of my head and forget about all the small stuff (could have something to do with my friends reminding me of the way he spent most of the night looking at me) but I decided to say fuck the red flags and go for it.

And it was the best decision I’ve made in years.

The age thing was easy to get over. Five (okay, five and a half) years doesn’t seem so bad once you realize the person is actually mature in more ways than every guy you’ve dated in the past, but the working nights thing was a bit of a bummer. We made the best of it, weekends and grabbing lunches during my work day and dinners during his, but the opposite schedules definitely did make it harder for us progress as a couple. I loved the time we did get to spend together, but that just made our predicament feel like even more of a red flag to me. I began to want something more “normal” (I know, I know, what’s “normal,” right?). I wanted to come home after work and cook dinners together and cuddle on the couch while catching up on shows. I wanted us to be able to spend nights together without one of us having to stay up late or the other waking up at the crack of dawn to do so. I just wanted all the good stuff that comes along with finally dating a great guy.

As I was busy pouting about all this I was given a good question to consider, “Would you rather have normal, or have him?” This question happened to be posed while he was out of town for a weekend on a float trip and I realized after our first full day of not being able to communicate at all that I missed him a little bit. Okay, fine. A LOT. So of course if I had to choose between him and normal, I’d choose him. And then, as if the gods were finally on my side, when he returned home he found out he was being put on day shifts. HOORAY! All the high fives to his company because now I have this great guy in my life AND I get to do all the fun, normal couple stuff I’ve ever wanted! Immediately I’m planning out dinners I’ll be cooking and TV shows we can start marathoning and trivia nights and happy hours we can meet friends at.

Up to this point, everything has been going great with us. We have a great rapport and have fallen into this easy comfort with each other, but there’s still those crazy butterflies anytime I’m near him. It’s all so good, and now I get more of it. I am finally optimistic that maybe finding someone that excites me and I can crave and craves me too and actually makes me want to fall in love isn’t the craziest thing in the world. Finally, I am really happy about the idea of being in a relationship again.

Naturally, this is right when my heart is about to be crushed.

As quickly as the happiness came, it is taken away when he tells me he is being transferred out of state. (Hey, company I just gave all the high fives to? YOU ARE THE WORST. Please replace all those high fives with middle fingers.) While he is telling me about the transfer I try to remain calm. While our relationship is great, it is still very new. Is it okay for me to break out in tears? Because that’s exactly what I do. I cry very big, fat, selfish tears. WHY? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME? I finally get my normal, happy relationship and before I can even enjoy it, it’s being taken away from me. (And then, of course, I cry because I feel like a selfish asshat. Sure, this is sad for me, but can I just be a decent girlfriend and take a minute to consider how badly this sucks for him? Having to move to a small town where he knows no one? Not fun. Not fun at all.) But, it was really, REALLY hard not to feel selfish and hurt and scared. I finally met this great guy, and things were starting to progress with us, and now what? Is this the end? We hadn’t been dating for long, so it would be easier to just end it, right? Would he even want to try long distance? My mind was on overdrive, but as soon as ‘long distance’ came to mind every thought turned to anger. Not at him, just at the situation. The idea of long distance makes me want to run. I want to tell him to leave. I want to forget about how good it feels to be with him because if having opposite schedules was bad, what’s being eight hours away going to be like? In college I was an hour and a half from my boyfriend and it was terrible. Everything about it was bad. Everything about it brought out the worst in each other. From the beginning I was the only one fighting for us and I constantly allowed myself to get less than I gave, and I promised myself I would never go back to that type of relationship. I’ve been through enough romantic struggles, dammit, I don’t deserve this! (I’m telling y’all, the selfishness was real that night. Not my proudest moment.)

Thankfully, my brain finally shuts the fuck up and I just sit and let him hug me while I cry. I stop wondering ‘what if’ and ‘why is this happening’ and just listen to him talk. A lot of my worries are put to ease when I learn that us not seeing each other anymore because of this move was never a thought for him. We spend as much of the next month before he leaves together as possible. And maybe that isn’t the smartest move, because we do get to cook dinners and watch movies and hang out with friends and, of course, I only fall for him more and it makes the day that he finally does have to leave even worse than imagined. But, that month did show me one thing… Even though I knew long distance still wouldn’t be easy, it wouldn’t be the same as last time and the difference is him. Everything about the time we spend together makes me know that missing him will be the best worst feeling in the world.

If you absolutely must be in a long distance relationship, he is the guy to be in it with. He’s let me cry and freak out and be scared and slightly obsessed about how all this is going to work out. He’s understanding of how I’ve been hurt in the past and how a situation like this challenges my need for control in my life and of how our different personalities (him very laid back, me slightly type A) can make this more of a struggle. And, yes, sometimes even that isn’t always enough to stop me from feeling like this is all going to end in many, many tears and more heart smashing. But right now his understanding of everything, his willingness to fight right along side me for this, and the anticipation of seeing him next weekend, and the weekend after, and two weekends after that is enough to give me hope that maybe, just maybe wanting to fall in love again isn’t the craziest thing in the world.

Secret Sunday

So, secret Sunday can be fun. Sometimes though it’s just writing about the things I can’t say aloud. And this Secret Sunday is definitely something I don’t speak of aloud. This Secret Sunday is about something that really is a secret to me. Some people ask and wonder, but for the most part this is just a quiet part of my life. So forgive me if this isn’t well written or entertaining. Dear readers, you are my therapists today.

Here’s one of my real secrets… I like to be tough. You know what? I am tough. I’ve been through some shit in my life and I’ve managed to keep my head up and move forward. Hooray for me! Except, there’s one area of my life where even after years and years of trying, it still remains hard to be tough. Y’all, I wish I had a dad. I mean, I have a dad, someone did indeed father me. But, I’ve always wanted to be one of those girls who was a daddy’s girl. So here I am at 30, and not being one of those girls still hurts me. To the point that after years of not having him in my life I find myself at random times just broken down in tears over this. I feel the emptiness and pain of missing that person, that person who should have been there from the get go. We all know that when it comes to a parent these are the first people who should love you no matter what and to feel like that person doesn’t indeed love you no matter what? Well, that’s a hard pill to swallow no matter your age or how much time you’ve had to deal with it.

It’s not one of those easy stories like one day my dad left, never to be heard from again. More like, my parents divorced, my dad stuck around for awhile and then he just kind of didn’t. And, it’s not that I don’t think my dad loves me. I believe he does. He just hasn’t actively tried to be a part of my life. As I got older, more and more time would go between hearing from him, much less seeing him. Meanwhile I was surrounded by girls who had great dads, dads who supported them and made sure they knew they were loved and stared down boys when they came to take them on dates and checked the oil in their cars and just went out of their way to spend time with them. And let me tell you, being a bit of a tomboy, not having a dad to do things with was even more upsetting to me. Damn if I just didn’t want to have a dad to go to a baseball game with or go fishing with or go see the latest Batman movie with. Luckily, I have an amazing mom who has always done any and all of these things with me. And part of me hates even feeling upset or complaining about the lack of a dad in my life because I do have such a great mom and I would never want her to feel like she wasn’t enough (Mom- when you get a chance to read this from whatever amazing Italian coffee shop you are in, know that you are the bestest mom ever), but I think even she knows that there is a part of me that feels empty. Empty not just for all of the past experiences I missed out on, but empty for the future ones as well. I think about someday getting married…yeah, you know where I’m going with this. Nothing crushes me more than seeing a father-daughter dance. I’m sure if I asked my dad, he’d do it, but the emotion wouldn’t be there. Even before the wedding, I’m such a sucker for tradition that it hurts to know a man will never ask for my father’s hand in marriage, since my father has never actually met anyone I’ve dated (better believe they’ll have to ask my momma though). And don’t get me started on the thought of kids. As much as I hated not having a father figure around, it kills me to think of my kids not having a grandpa (fingers crossed that my future baby daddy has an awesome dad to play grandpa to our tots). There’s just so much that still hurts me. After years to come to terms with all these feelings and toughen up, there’s still so much that creeps through every now and then.

Damn Thalia, if it makes you this sad why not tell him about it instead of the internet? Well, I did just that. A few years ago, after having one of these ‘man it really sucks missing a person you don’t even really know’ type breakdowns, I wrote to my father. I wrote and expressed these feelings and how upsetting it was to me that I was now an adult and he didn’t even know where I worked or had seen where I lived or knew my friends or my hopes and dreams. That I had grown into this whole new person and he didn’t know who that person was. And what’s worse, didn’t seem to be interested in ever changing that. Well, here I am writing about how his absence in my life still affects me, so safe to say my letter to him was not met with a great response. Even though nothing changed, I don’t regret letting that toughness go for long enough to put my disappointment and sadness out there to him. At that point I did give up the last of my hope that our situation would ever change. That part I’ve come to terms with, but it doesn’t stop me from mourning a relationship I will never have.