the sting of rejection

I woke up with the socked-in-the-stomach feeling that accompanies rejection. This past month, I’ve been spending a few days a week with a musician I’ve known for years, with the understanding that we were both potentially interested in being more than friends but wanting to take things slow. I just decided last week that I really like him. He told me last night that he doesn’t feel the same and wants to return to being just friends.

There are a few main thoughts that come with this:

1) You know me. Pretty well. And I’m not enough? This is a classic ploy of the enemy’s – one of the things he’s constantly whispering to me, anyway (if they really know you, they won’t love you; if you stop working hard, you’ll be worthless; if you aren’t meeting someone’s needs, they’ll leave you) – they all add up to the same lie: you’re not enough. Or sometimes I hear the reverse: you’re too much.
2) You don’t want me. Dan came to the rescue* by pointing out that no matter what, knowing that another person is choosing to not be with you sucks. And it does. There’s a sting to it.

As I re-read those, I guess they’re doubts. It makes me think of something my boss (who pastors our church) said over the Easter weekend. He’s learned to doubt his doubts. And the truth is, I’ve come a long way. I’m totally allowed to hurt and feel sad for a day (sigh, my day’s almost done), but all the while, I know that these doubts are irrational. I know I’m not “too much” and I’m far from “not enough”. And I know that the musician choosing not to be with me is exactly that – a choice. He has to do what's best for him.

So that's the report. Rejection is never fun, but I'm in the midst of a great growing season, and this is just another part of it.

* He also came to the rescue by highlighting that I had looked amazing at a party the night before and he’d forgotten to mention it. 14 points for coming in with a killer compliment at a clutch moment.

my valentines

amazing + huge card from our preschool




cutest cups ever at starbucks



& a soy decaf vegan mocha with a hot chick who ditched her valentine for me

cold breaths, positive thoughts

so i'm starting to get used to this feeling like my insides are going to explode out of my chest. and i think it just means that i'm really, really happy.

it's starting to get cold at nights in encinitas. like, pretty cold. two blankets, full-on pajamas & socks - cold.

sometimes letting yourself be happy is almost as awkward as letting yourself be cold. there's a bit of a fight i keep putting up - trying to pull blankets over & zip up protective coats. i'm just trying to take in deep breaths of the cold, crisp, fall-almost-winter "i deserve to be happy" air, one at a time, telling myself, "this is not about you, Stine. this is about God. He's good to you. you can rest in this." i'm believing it a little more with each one.

there's sand all over my bedroom. there's sand everywhere.

which is funny, because until a few weeks ago, i never went to the beach. i've lived in north county for the past four years, always within a mile of the ocean, but i've never spent much time on the shore. until now.

we end up at the beach. that's what we do. it's a safe zone. neutral territory. public property (which lends to safety of one kind - protecting me, in a sense, from myself). government property (which sets me at ease for other reasons).

but safety, comfort, common ground - that's why we end up at the beach. five times every week.

"this is what this season is like," i say, rubbing my jaw, because it aches. i've been smiling non-stop since i started spending time with him a few weeks ago. and when i'm not with him, i'm talking about him. it's taking its toll on me, physically. "i don't think we'll always be this ridiculous." and ridiculous, it is. he steers and changes gears with his left hand while his right hand calmly engulfs both of mine. after i tried to drive us somewhere once, we abandoned that idea, because i nearly killed us. i couldn't keep my eyes on the road.

so this is where we are. this is where i am. learning how to do life... without jenni (minus one), with caleb (plus one). in the midst of it, the Lord's teaching me that He's my protector, provider & the one who ultimately surrounds me and ensures that i'm not alone - an amazing lesson to be learning, because with my weak heart, i definately have a propensity to be swayed by this one's protective nature and just lose myself in this. God's grace and timing are honestly so amazing in teaching me extra lessons about His character just in time for me to keep focused on Him. in all of this, our ultimate goal is to honor Him above all & to love the Giver more than the gift.

no one knew his address.

i'm working on a spreadsheet, right? of my roadtrip... an updated version of what's posted below. it'll have where i'm stopping and starting every day, with addresses, mileage, time frames - as accurate as i can get, at least. especially after seeing the hangover yesterday (which was hilarious, but i am NOT recommending it unless you are highly appreciative of very, very inappropriate raunch humor) (i got carded TWICE before seeing it), when the guys were looking for their friend and trying to retrace his steps, i realized, if, horror of horrors, something should happen, i'd want some way for my parents to track where i was last - or where i was supposed to have been next.

except, of course, that my iphone has GPS, right? and hello, i tweet every hour like clockwork. i can't go too far off the map, can i, now?

but it dawned on me that i didn't take the same precautions last february. i headed up to the northwest with my iphone, dave's address, and a mental map of how to get to anacortes from seattle. i didn't have bus or train tickets, and in fact, i got lost after leaving the airport. and i made it, just fine, to the artchurch (you remember that seattle dave lives in an abandoned lutheran church that's been renovated into a live/paint/play structure they've renamed the ArtChurch,) although he was still at work when i got there.

seattle dave is not a serial killer. but, like, you don't know him. raise your hand if you've met him. my dad has, as it turns out, met him, but that was for 6 minutes, because we were in town for my grandfather's funeral, and my dad happens to be a horrible judge of character - he's a sucker for anyone with good taste in music (which dave has) (that's actually how we met) (that's a story for another time).

you guys, nobody knew where i was. i was in seattle for three days, untraceable. yes, i was updating my facebook. yes, i was calling and emailing. but no one actually knew where i WAS. no one knows dave's last name. he's always "seattle dave." i know it, but i never use it. i'm sure cindy assumed my dad knew where i was staying and my uncle dan assumed i'd told jenni where i was staying and i just reckon that everyone assumed someone else knew but the truth is, that at the end of the day, nobody knew exactly where i was sleeping for two days.

anyway. i'm realizing that, just like everything always needs to be renewed, the way i do human relationships needs a little reworking. and this is one of those things. i'm wanting to be missed, i realize, while i'm gone, and so i'm going to tell a few people exactly where i'm going to be. that's the risk - the scary fourth-grade valentine moment, where i hand a favorite person my folded up road trip itinerary with just a little bit of my heart attached to it, because i'm saying, care that i'm gone? and i think - i'm not positive, but i think: that less-robot/more-human vulnerability - it's a step in the right direction.

BTW, the ArtChurch is located at the corner of 22nd & 61st in Ballard in Seattle.

dropping like flies.

i had lunch with one of my boy (big space) friends on monday - he's studying for the bar exam and allows himself one hour lunch break and happens to have an extrordinary vegan-friendly eatery within walking distance of his digs in leucadia. plus, i'd gotten wind over the weekend of the fact that the girl he'd been seeing recently was now his girlfriend.

so, we sat and talked about it in the sunshine over soy chorizo. this one's super happy - and of course, there's nothing more i want for
a) any of my friends
b) one of the basil boys, specifically
c) a part of the happy square, specifically
than for them to be happy.

but do you know how i found out that he and the girl (who's awesome & as it works out, a really good match for him) had made it official? because his roommate (the other basil boy, the other corner of the happy square) was telling me about the girl he's hanging out with as we sat in the wild one's kitchen.

the wild one got back from africa (so awesome, so happy to have her home) and all the nice girls come over in their skinny jeans, high heels, and hoop earrings, and then all the guys come over, and then stine shows up in bermuda shorts and hemp rainbows (question mark?) (i'd thrown a BBQ at the church for 300 people.) the girls drink wine out of pretty wine glasses and cross their legs on the couch, and the guys drink jäger out of coffee cups in the kitchen. i'm having an identity crisis because my upbringing cannot permit me to drink wine out of a coffee cup, but i'm having fun, because the boys are so laid-back, and it looks like the girls have to put on a show out there. or at least balance their wine glasses.

so, then, the other one's talking about his new girl - she's drama-free. she doesn't hunt him down, lets him chill with his friends, they have their space, and to her credit, i've seen a lot of him lately, which is really cool.

there's nothing more i want then for them to be happy!

and then, the wild one's almost engaged, and then one of my brothers of thunder just really DID get engaged.

remember when i used to hang out with a bunch of single people?

jeremiah 17:9

i sat down today to create something. since my trip, maybe since always, i've had a lot building up in my heart, and it comes out best on a canvas. i started the collage months ago, biting off of one i'd seen at nick's art show, back in november.

as i sat to work, i got a text message, and threw my head back and laughed. it's been a long time since i've done this, and back in the day, when you gave a boy your phone number, he would call you. alechhchcchhh. anyway, i finished the collage level without any real clue about what the next level would look like. by that time, he'd stopped texting & i was experiencing a wide range of emotions, including confusion, frustration & excitement, all bathed in a thin layer of self-loathing.

i know i have the potential to sabotage myself, and to double-back and undo any good that i've done just to... oh, i don't know, just to prevent myself, subconciously, from making a bigger mess, later. anyway, jeremiah's words popped into my head. the heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. who can understand it?

it's no one's fault that the cat died.

i also struggled through some heart-complications tonight.

so grateful for the mrs. who helped me lay things out in perspective.

i wove myself an analogy comparing it to the loss of a pet.

if your cat died, you aren't going to run around blaming the cat. or blaming death. you don't necessarily mean to suggest, by your sadness or the general sucky feeling you're experiencing, that someone did something wrong or is to blame. but it sucks, and you're hurt, and you'll move on, but right now, it would be nice if someone slung their arm around you and said, "this sucks, i know."

i'm thankful, though, cause that's what sweet estelle did, and backed it up with a pint of california honey.

the spot in the center of a soccer field

"just the girl i was waiting for," he said when i called.

so funny, how perfect those words are. and so fitting that they don't come from who i'd like, but instead, from the irish one, whose trust i've not broken. the other one, i ruined things, like i always do. sheesh. guys and girls can be "best friends" for only so long. but at least i've done good by this one.

he had a crazy plan in mind, when all i wanted to do after this day-from-hell (that's not fair, really, work was great - it was just a wretched morning) was chill. but i liked his idea.

we have played lots of games, this one and i have. he's better than me, at almost everything, and definately at the games. he's taught me a thing or two, and is a pretty good coach. games aren't just games to him, though. that's his element, where his mean streak comes out.

it was the other side tonight. we stood on the soccer field where we've shared lots of saturday pick-up games. the full moon was bright, especially when all the lights turned out. and he stood on the spot in the center of the field, back arched emphatically, and yelled, "fuuuuuuuuck!"

we both began a boxer's jump, feeling the momentum of his first yell. i couldn't form words, yet, but my frustration echoed his, and was pricked with shame. i took the spot, and it was all i could do to scream, desperately, "aaaaaaa!"

we both laughed and kept the bounce going. no one was responding - the park was empty, and the closest neighborhoods were still far away. "idiot!" i yelled, next, so loudly my voice couldn't sustain the last syllable.

i moved so he could stand on the yelling spot. "damn it!", he cried into the night.

we continued yelling at the top of our lungs for about fifteen minutes. i screamed to the stars about my horrible day and about the how the other one ceases to notice me. he stuck with profanities. and we both felt better.

he finally collapsed onto his back and watched the stars. i took advantage of the astroturf and turned somersaults. he talked about her, and i shared about him. i came to a few theological relizations, including "jesus is always messing with your buisness," which might have included a few more irish words when i said it. later, "christianity is not for the weak, not for the faint of heart. i really wouldn't recommend it to anyone." i did another somersault and he pointed out, "except for the alternative. where's hope, then?"

we do have hope. we have anger and frustration mounting to the point that his plan for the night is to "go to a park and yell cuss words", but we also have hope, because, in the midst of our brokenness is room for redemption. i took another turn on the spot, threw my chin to the sky, and yelled, "hope!" until my throat was raw.

the stubborn present

smoke stinging my eyes
seeping into my skin

(if not suprised, if not dulled,
should i cry - i could blame it on the smoke
lord, i'm so ridiculous)

see, through the smoke
reality, street truth, communion around me
how it's supposed to be, you know?

and there are stories told
(common past)
interwoven: how i was there
interwoven: my support

stubborn present:
jealousy, shame, injustice, frustration
can't.get.words.out
great thoughts, long, awkward pauses

and SHE, she she she
puts it all so eloquently
(although she meant etymology, not epistemology)
and the smoke turns my brown eyes green, burning

i deserve to be spoken about on the ride home.
smoke, blowing, wrong, direction
y yo: white flag. hands waving. towel thrown.

fishnets, forever.

i would like to stay twenty-six forever. and poor. and single.

so, my friends are so talented it’s disastrous. let me highlight that nick (www.nickabrams.com) and erin (www.quillandsqualor.blogspot.com) deserve particular celebration right now.

nick had a show in OB tonight. i haven’t spent much time in OB. my brother grew up there – he and my mom lived on coronado avenue while he was little. okay, and, if my mom has her way, she’ll be living back in the same place in a month or so.

the hodge-podge gallery was great. i know what the kid’s capable of, and his stuff was fantastic, as i expected. loved having lots of our friends together. adored playing shuffleboard in an alluring way. liked wandering the streets of ocean beach. let me tell you, though, if you want to see the little beach community, you should wear shoes. I had to take mine off – my cougar boots – because as cute as they are, they’re not made for walking. so as we headed to his truck, i took advantage of the first bus bench i could to de-boot, and proceeded to walk in my fishnets. this required me to keep my eyes on the ground to avoid the really gravelly parts of the asphalt. i didn’t get to see much. but the boys told amazing stories and horrible jokes as we walked, and i loved knowing that no one was worried about me. loved hoping that maybe, the next time he grabbed my arm to lead me around something gross on the ground (“um, don’t step on that”), maybe he wouldn’t let go. and i simultaneously hoped he would. that nothing would change, and that everything can be the same as it is, forever.

ministry, heartbreak, miles mcpherson

let me start with honesty.

i went to the north county pastor's training lunch today for the purpose of meeting guys.

that having been said, there has been some work a-happenin' in my heart & soul. i'm processing through some stuff on my own... the classic battle of shame & dignity. on that subject, i'm working on how much i'm ever going to be "fixed"... is that my burden to bear as a woman? as a sinner? as a human? as stine? or is it the thorn in my flesh? or will Jesus fix it? when? or will He use that weakness to His glory? is my self-hatred/self-doubt actually humility? i just wish i could get over it, so i could get over myself. my self-doubt is such a distraction from all that i want to DO for Christ. i'm so hindered & shackled by my broken heart that i'm rendered immobile when there are battles to be fought and hearts to be won. and don't i believe in a God who wants more for me than that? my darkest, scariest fear is that i'm overlooked & ignored... the one who doesn't matter. stuck in this idea that God's great love isn't big enough for me.

let me just say, i know it's not true. but i don't know how to convince myself of that, at the same time.

so, okay, let's flip out of my soul, and into my church and my job. i'm working with women, wonderful women, and a zillion of them. and they love to get together, be together, eat sweets and enjoy things that have been decorated with ribbons. they also love God's word - they love it. they read and they know and they really are dynamic women of truth.

but everything that's been done has, for a long time, been in the building. inside the rooms of the church, for the women of the church. and our tagline is to be a church without walls, but the women's ministry is really constricted by the walls. i told abby on our way over to the pastors' lunch, i don't want to have 400 women in the family center for a Christmas dessert! i want women to host desserts for 8 friends and neighbors, spend time together, share thier testimony if they want, and be the church, instead of being at church.

miles mcpherson had a lot of dynamic points on what i was thinking. he challenged me to take the church's mission (a few float around my head... living in Christ, living out Christ, a church without walls, transformed people, transforming the world) and identify a vision for the ministry: a measureable picture of what i want in the future. for me, i'd love to have half of the events that women's ministry throws be offsite. and i want to see every woman, every year, giving herself away in some service capacity.

we have to rethink evangelism, miles said. we have to listen to the cries of this broken world, and respond. that is the truest way to communicate the gospel. he articulated it so clearly: the purpose of church is not so you can have friends. it is not so you can have people to talk to. it is to mobilize footsoldiers to combat the heartbreaking forces of the enemy, whether we're preventing evil, rescuing people from it, or helping heal the damage it's done.

miles really challenged us by admitting that real, missional ministry like we're talking about is hard. it requires a heart investment which is really risky and taps into our own brokenness. i kinda put my head down when he said that because i know exactly what he meant. it means, here, stine, here's another way to get your heart broken. after you thought you'd seen it all. here, in ministry, in the very fiber of your calling, a new way to be crushed. because in this real, authentic work, people will not always smile. or be grateful that you're praying for them. or even show up to accept your help. programs, events... they run smoothly, women attend, and they usually even help clean up afterwards. but the hurting people who have nothing to give are desperate for help, and, according to Jesus, deserve it the most. and helping them find hope is the purpose of the church.

i didn't meet any guys at the lunch. there were a few who didn't have wedding rings on, but jung said a great little something to me yesterday. "stine, you have a bright future. i don't want you to end up with someone who doesn't."

that went farther than i thought it would

longing.

it's like desiring, but deeper. kind of like hunger. and it sinks from my throat to the bottom of my stomach and is almost instantly paired with dread.

longing is the depressing version of wanting something badly, because with longing, i have a sense that i'm not going to get what i'm longing for.

who i'm longing for.

no, no, no. that's not accurate. longing for, um, i'll call him tolstoy, because this is the internet, after all, is an exaggeration. to say that i long for him is being dramatic. and i deserve some credit for addressing and admitting my own tendency towards drama. i don't long for him, but i yearn for something from him. just, like, attention, affirmation. some credit.

"i'm afraid it's too late"

i made an uncharacteristically self-respecting man-decision today.

and i am in debt to everyone who has ever said things like "you're worth more than that" or "you deserve better."

you are right, and for every 10 times i hear it, i think one time, it really sinks in.

annnnnnddd, ripping stitches.

i stood on a curb last night. it was red. a fire curb.

it occurs to me that there's a more proper name for it than a "fire curb" but i can't think of it.

i was standing there, looking trouble in the eye. when i'm on the curb, we're the same height.

trouble is offering me everything i'm not looking for.

he always does.

have i not learned this lesson?

crucifixion clothes

so, i’ve been up to some mildly shady business lately. nothing huge or life threatening, but i’m a young, single girl, and the kinds of trouble i can get myself into are varied and easily available. so, last week, i basically drove my car onto a street named hijinks avenue. luckily, even though i tried to leave jesus in the backseat, He went with me, and He didn’t let me get into any actual shenanigans, but i will completely admit to you that i was trying to. i went to hijinks avenue looking for trouble, and i couldn’t even find any. and if that doesn’t teach me a thing or two about his providential grace – protecting me from temptation when i was intentionally running towards it – i don’t know what will.

intermixed into my own sketchy dealings, unbeknownst to me, one of my girlfriends was dealing with her own stuff. and she was brave enough to reach out to me this week and admit what’s going on, and to vent her frustration, and, most importantly, to unload her shame.

i’ve been working with young women this summer. and i’ve noticed a theme. since i work at a church, i meet with and hear from sinners. if the church isn’t a welcome place for the heavy-laden, i don’t know where to send them. i’ve met girls who are struggling with addictions and broken hearts and money, and each story could make me cry.

i didn’t till i read my girlfriend’s message. a dear, longtime friend of mine, struggling with a sin we are all susceptible to, and beating herself up about it, bad.

it is not the same sin as mine. it is not the same sin, and she is not the same sinner. the commonality is the shame. whether it’s men or debt or food, they can lead us to don a heavy cloak of guilt to distinguish ourselves as unclean, unforgiveable.

i am glad my friends recognize a holy God, but He did not rise from the dead so they could walk around in crucifixion friday clothes.

we are flesh-y and we are subject to sin, but somehow, we’ve set certain limitations to the power of Christ’s resurrection. yeah, He forgave me the first time i ______, but i keep doing it. i think He’s tired fo forgiving me, and probably just impatient with me, altogether. so, insead of pursuing Him and seeking His continued transformation in my life, i’m going to give up and stop wasting the Lord’s time.

it’s selfless, seemingly. she has this great heart. thinking of high school kids, homeless people, grad students, all the other people who need God’s grace. his love so high, so deep, so wide. she knows that’s what hungry hearts are looking for. i know what she’s telling herself – mostly because she’s telling me – i should be able to handle this. and as a punishment for not “handling it”, she puts on her funeral garb to mourn the crucified Messiah, long after easter sunday, but still unaware that His resurrection conquered her sin for once, for all, for always, and again and again.

i’m just like her. i’m notoriously hard on myself- spiritually and otherwise. i’m continually handing the Lord a mustard seed that’s been crushed into powder by the weight of the world. i believe so mightily in His power to move, change, and reign in nations, families, and individuals. Except for me.

i’m confessing that i don’t trust the Lord when it comes to my heart, my life. my stine-ness. i get convinced probably twice a day that my issues sent me beyond the grips of God’s grace long ago. but, if you try real hard, stine, maybe you can still make God proud. if you can just read your Bible more, use your money better, be nicer to annoying people, maybe you’ll impress God enough to stay off His naughty-list.

but that’s not true. none of it. and it took hearing my girlfriend cry my own tears and confess my own concerns for me to actually seek answers from the One who has been waiting forever for me to ask.

and i found so much hope.

i always listen to the “God’s mercies are new every morning” part of lamentations 3:22-23, but yesterday i spotted the first portion of these verses.

because of His great love we are not consumed. it’s like Moses knew what i’m feeling – overtaken and consumed by my sin. shackled to it. totally deserving to sit under the penalty of it. but he points to His love: because of His great love, we are not consumed.

i stil say, i’m a disaster. my friend says, “i’ve been a Christian for 100 years. why am in not the Godly woman i want to be?”

my prayer over the past few years, when i remember to pray it, has been for God to build in me. i recognize the weakness of my heart – specifically in my ability to trust in Him, to not assume He’s like me, easily frustrated and narrow-minded. i need Him to strengthen me, specifically in my emotional and spiritual understanding of Him. and i am going to admit to you that He is not moving fast enough, according to my timing. but He is building. and i’ve come across these 2 passages that tell me that God is building in his timing.

ephesians 2 concludes with a description of how a Christian community is designed to work and it uses a construction metaphor to illustrate the cohesiveness of that community. that having been said, paul was writing to the church at ephesus, but i am confident that God is okay with me listening to this verse as an individual promise, from Him to me.

ephesians 2:22
and in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.

and, finally, a scripture that my girlfriend reminded me of as she was sharing her heart. “what’s the verse hung in your bathroom – where God says he’ll strengthen my frame?” this passage speaks of God’s heart for justice, the oppressed, and to the purposefulness of each of his chosen ones. i highly recommend reading all of isaiah 58, but since she asked, here it is:

isaiah 58:11
The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.

I hope my humble thoughts and words can bring comfort to my dear friend.

i'm the one the song is about.

when i was 15, my friends wrote a song about me. it made references to my dark lipstick and soft heart. 7 years later, a boy i was dating wrote a symphony for me. it had a french name i could never translate but i loved it because it switched tempo 7 times - from adagio to allegretto to vivace, and back again a few times. it let me know that he understood me. years later, i told my boyfriend of a year, as we broke up, that i was hurt because he'd never written a song for me. when he showed up at my front door months after that, he strummed the lonely otter love song, and it worked like a charm.

today, 3 of my boys wrote me a song. and they practiced it, and they preformed it.

you're really missing something without their dance moves and chanting, but these were the lyrics:

miss farmer is the best teacher in the world she gives us chocolate and candy she is always very nice to us. she likes to be a teacher but she is trusting in God to put her where he wants her to be. she is the best, oh ya.

i nearly cried. and i hugged them. and i pointed out that i'm not always nice; in fact, i'm usually not. they said they loved me anyway.

and no one will ever write me a more beautiful song.

written after my ex-boyfriend randomly sent me a myspace message

there's this thing that happened, and i can't decide if i care or i don't care. i definitely said the f-word pretty loud when it was first brought to my attention, but i think that was just because i thought i would care a lot, but upon actually thinking about it, i didn't care- not that much.

philosophers talk about metacognition - basically, thinking about thinking. what about thinking about feeling? i call that metaemotion, and i need you to accept that as a real word. because i tend to get metaemotional and analyze my feelings and if you cannot roll with that you probably oughtn't be reading me.

metaemotionally, i care less than i expected to care. but that confuses me and i can't decide if i'm happy about that or not. so, now, to diagram this better, i'm feeling emotion A but i'm also feeling suprised because i expected emotion X, a negative emotion, and i'm not feeling it. but now i'm sort of dissapointed that i'm not feeling negaitve. i know. it's confusing and really sort of makes me feel crazy, but at the same time, i'm just so grateful that i get to be this complex.

walk-away-list

there was cold metal underneath us - we rested on the bleachers at the softball fields. we were yelling quasi-offensive cheers and jeers at my roommate and her team as they lost, once again. do you know that feeling when you realize that you are in a moment that is just more real and wonderful than most others? like, this is real life, and everything else builds around this? (of course mine would be a b-league ballgame that i'm not even playing in.) but i began to explain a very authentic, heartfelt idea to him and there was a charge in the air and he began to respond and it zapped me- my boy is walking to canada. he's leaving us and no one will fill his space.

i don't know how he wrenched his way into our hearts, but he has. and so, because i knew i could trust him not to judge me, i kept talking about my new concept of guidelines to help me make wiser choices (with boys, specifically). no one knows exactly why this is such a weak area for me, but everyone knows it is. so he's listening to me. and i report that for the first time, on saturday night, i heard something that really averted my interest in a boy i was talking to.

so he responds, "i think i'm going to make you a list of those things before i leave." he wanted to make sure i was taken care of. "cocaine, hotel room, alimony, appletini-- you hear any of those words, and i want you to walk away. okay?" we did make a list of walk-away words, most of which were drawn from my previous not-as-successful dating adventures. "ex-fiancee, callaway, undergrad..." and we built the list together.

play book

the bj’s in laguna is tiny. i’m not sure if you’ve ever been there, but in actuality, the occupancy is 98 people. i was there enjoying a delicious jeremiah red and a chocolate chip pazookie a few weeks back in celebration of a new job: kat now sews books back together when library patrons have been unkind. she asked about one of my recent things and i said that i didn’t know and explained my confusion. i probably waved my hand and rolled my eyes a lot as i was talking – that’s how i felt about it at the time. chris interrupted me to tell me i was being stupid. to his credit, he really only does that when it’s necessary (and true).

i loved kat’s next statement. “i like him. he gives you a run for your money.”

she’s right. that is good for me. i will admit freely that there are a few things about this that may not be good for me, but that is.

i’ve decided to call it a play book. that’s appropriate – i’m an athlete now. (i’m laughing at myself as i say that. don’t worry.) we all have our play book, as you will. and i didn’t realize until it was pointed out to me that i have a very distinct set of plays that i follow when i’m interested in someone. additionally, the moves that are legal for my opponent to make are really limited (and, dropping my analogy for a second, really time-sensitive). in all honesty, if i like you, then i’m going to do this, and i expect you to respond like that, at this time. if you do anything different (like more or less or earlier or later), i will either freak out or stop liking you, or it means that you freaked out or stopped liking me. it’s that simple. it’s an equation, it works, and i like it.

except that this one does not follow my play book and it is not because he isn’t into me.

one of my mentors looked me in the eye, deadpan, and asked, “do you have a copy of the contract he signed that says he has to return your text messages within the hour?”

i don’t. he didn’t sign. he didn’t agree to that. “but if he doesn’t,” i argued, “doesn’t it mean he’s not interested?” i thought that was really valid. i still do, actually.

“what if he’s thinking, ‘she knows i’m into her, i’ll call her tomorrow.’?”

she had a really good point. and, putting together everything i know about him, that actually makes a lot of sense.

this is good for me. i am getting a run for my money with this one. i'm far enough out that i don't need to make a decision this second about whether our play books are compatible. i could get to a point where it's apparent that we're playing in different leauges, as it were. or, i could stretch myself and see how i perform with a new set of rules.

my play book says that if i had a good time with him the last time we hung out, i want to hang out, again, soon. he's using his own play book. he says, "i want to see you again, soon." soon to him may mean a few weeks, but he doesn’t mean it any less.