Planning Ahead

This is a snippet from an actual conversation LC and I had while debating moving in together last month. We were talking about how moving in isn’t just something that we will do lightly anymore and had established (for the 40th time) that it is something we would both do with the understanding that we intend for it to be permanent. Not just a right now kind of thing, but more of an until death do us part kind of thing. Without the ceremony. Or the big question. Yet.

Then out of the sort of blue, this happened:

Me: You know, I’ll want a big ring.

Him: That might take me a while.

Me: That’s okay. I can wait.

Him: Okay.

And then we carried on talking about other things. I really do love that man.

Stranger than fiction

It all started with an email. An email from Big. Two days ago he wrote to say he hoped a milestone in my life went well for me. Of course, true to form, he was over a week late which he knew. Why he chose to write one week and one day later is beyond me. It will always be beyond me. But he did. He sent an email.

Things went downhill from there. Despite all rational logic to the contrary, I wrote back.  I just wanted him to know how well I’m doing. That he didn’t break me. That I found something better than we’d ever had. I know it’s petty, but there it is. The best revenge is living well, and I wanted him to know I had that.

So I told him about LC and I moving in together. That I was moving out of my beloved single girl pad. He knows this is something I never would have done for him. I wanted him to understand how good things are. How well it’s working out. Maybe I even wanted him to hurt just a little since it seemed he never did. Whatever, so I told him. And of, course, he wrote back again.

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Madness

And so the moving madness has begun. Now, you all don’t really know me so let me paint you a picture. Perhaps it will explain why suddenly LC is frightened of me when it comes to this move.

We applied at the apartment complex this past Thursday. So for those of you keeping track at home, that means less than a week ago. LC feels that as we have over a month until the move we have a few weeks to relax. But no, I am in moving overdrive.

As soon as we got into the car to leave the new apartment complex, I asked him if he wants to share my movers. He blinked at me confused. He wanted time to think about it. I blinked back at him. Because, you know, the movers need to be booked immediately because they can book up! And I need my movers. I assured him they’re great. Hard working and they have never broken or damaged my stuff. He was torn between finding me efficient and slightly crazed. And besides, moving to him meant a U-Haul truck and a few of his closest friends. I tapped my foot impatiently. He begged for time to think.

By Sunday, he had agreed that sharing the movers was wise. After all, friendship is only good for so much. I explained for me movers are a necessity. There is no one in this world who loves me enough to cart my giant sofa down from my third floor walk up apartment without getting paid in more than pizza and beer. He said he’d share the movers with me. By Monday afternoon they were booked and we had a confirmation letter.

I am ready to call the utilities. I am searching for boxes. I am pondering how to break the news to my cleaning ladies. (Let them see the boxes piling up, or warn them that our relationship has almost run its course? What if they clean less effiiciently because they know I’m leaving them? And how will I work the move out cleaning?) I have a plan for turning in my keys early to my rental office since we’ll be on Christmas vacation when the lease is up. I have lists of what goes into storage and what doesn’t. And I’m one step away from buying stickers so I can color code things for the movers. Oh yes, it’s like this.

LC didn’t see all that coming. He wanted someone to share responsibilities, but he never anticipated the crazy train he was hopping on until this is all over. This is why I had to know he really loved me first. Because otherwise he’d probably run for his life.

Poor LC. He hasn’t even considered how insane the unpacking situation might be. I tried to warn him, but he never saw this coming. Now who has spare boxes to give me?

It only takes a few…

Let’s be honest here… in my little blog bubble, I live with mostly other bloggers. Of course we all have people stop by who don’t write, and follow us, and become parts of our lives. But the lion’s share of people who stop by here have a URL to leave in the comments section. And that’s ok. That’s how it is. Always has been. Probably always will be. But what it means is that the majority of us here understand what it means to publish online. And for those of you who don’t actually do it yourselves, I firmly believe my readers are smart enough to figure it out.

And so it is that it positively sickens me when some of the most basic rules of online etiquette are breached. I recognize that I make my words public. That the thoughts and feelings here are out there for anyone to read. And I’m good with that. That’s why I do it. And I understand that doing that also comes with certain risks.

But I guarantee you, no one who does this does it with the assumption that their words will be ripped off. What we share here may be public, but it’s also personal. And even if you manage to overlook the basic decency of that fact, there is a copyright right there at the bottom of every single page of this site.

So back to being sickened. This week I found out that I and several other bloggers who I respect a great deal, have been plagiarized. I will not be including a link to the site where this was found. There is not a shred of original content. It is our personal feelings, our stories, our lives, stolen and reproduced word for word as someone else’s. And if that’s not bad enough, this person had the utter gall to also place a copyright at the bottom of that page. As if they had the right to claim exclusive rights to our work.

I know this person has at least read this blog once. So let me tell you all something and hope they find it too. We are all also subject to Terms of Service of the hosts and services we use to publish these blogs. All of us, paid and unpaid. And all of those terms include copyright infringement as grounds to terminate your account without warning. So you may think it’s slick to rip off someone’s work and life that way, but your host may not necessarily agree. And you better believe I, and the other folks who were violated here, will take the two minutes to report it. It’s not hard to prove. It doesn’t take lawyers or court. It’s a simple online form and it’s obvious by the dates and words who is original and who is a petty thief.

My main takeaway is that copyright infringement may cost you your site. But secondary, understand that the violation runs deeper. That person reprinted some entries that were extremely personal to me. They were hard to write. They said a lot of things out loud that I may not always want to say. In one case, I cried over that entry. It is not only a legal violation but a personal one. And it was petty, unoriginal, and rather disgusting by the person who did it.

I will continue to post here. I will continue to share. And I will continue to hope that the trust I put in my readers is well placed. But this week I lost a little bit more of my faith in humanity. And I also reported someone for copyright infringement. I seriously hope you rot.

Update 11/3/09: Got an email from the host of the blog discussed in this entry. It has been removed for copyright violations. We won.

Parking Lot Confessions

Him: So what do you think about moving in?

Me: (hedging) What do you think?

Him: I’d really like to do it. I miss you when you’re not around.

Me: (hedging some more)

Him: Just say it. Whatever it is.

Me: Moving in is kind of a permanent decision for me.

Him: For me too. I can’t imagine a life without you.

Me: (gooey eyes)

Trust

Trust is…. well, weird. It’s fragile. It’s easily destroyed. And yet it is the cornerstone of most relationships we have. That seems an awfully weighty job for something that breaks so easily. But then, trust is also up for individual interpretation. Some people trust easily and trust long. Some people never learn to trust. And some people switch between trusting and not trusting when a butterfly flaps its wings in China. Or something. And pretty much everything in between too.

Once I had a friend who I was just getting to know. They told me something important and confidential. I meant to help, sure. But the bottom line was that I blabbed. And to a very unfortunate person. Trust was lost. The friendship never really developed after that. Maybe because I broke the trust. Or maybe because I couldn’t let go of the fact that I did it. Maybe because I was overly sensitive of trust issues and just tanked the whole thing. Trust is just funny like that.

Trust in a romantic relationship is even funnier. For me, I trust slowly. In the beginning, I tend to believe everything is crap unless proven otherwise. I look for holes in the armor. I look for reasons not to trust. But eventually, at some mystical point, a man magically proves himself to me. And then there is trust.

At that point, once upon a time, there used to always be trust forever after. Unless there was some pretty hard black and white proof that there shouldn’t be. It used to be that from that point of trust, I would simply choose to believe what that man told me. Even if it didn’t always make sense. Even if I wasn’t always sure. Because he was my partner and I trusted him.

Of course, someone wrecked that. In quite a fantastic way. And now, well now I can’t seem to make myself believe anything anymore. If faced with a situation where something seems wrong, I will believe that. No matter what he says. No matter who he is. No matter how badly I hate being this way.

And is that really fair? Should every man from now until whenever really have to pay because one man shattered my trust all those years ago? Am I beyond believing my spidey sense and going with my gut and into ridiculousness now? Have I forgotten how to trust?

Trust is a decision. It’s a conscious choice we make with people in our lives. And sometimes, when presented with a situation, it’s right there staring you in the face. Do I choose to trust or not?

So my dears, it’s time for another question for you. How do you choose to trust? How do you choose not to? When do you start and stop? Talk to me about trust and how it works in your lives. Inquiring minds want to know.

What would you believe?

Random disclaimer: Written for a friend! Please take off your tinfoil hats. I’m fine.

What would you do if he said he wasn’t in love with you? What if he revealed this after countless “I love you”s? What if he said he thought he could be, that he thought he was heading to that place… but then he never got there? What would you do if after so much time together and in the middle of so many plans you had made together… if he said he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you?

What if it hit home? What if it explained things that had been at the edges of your mind? What if it made some things make sense?

What if you were head over heels for him? What if you had believed in the two of you… in a relationship? What then?

And then, what if he took it back? What if he said it was a mistake? What if you couldn’t believe it so you called him up and asked if it was really true, and he said no?  What if he said he regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth? What if he said and did all the right things then? What if he charged at all those plans again full tilt? What if he said he did it because he thought you’d be happier without him? What if he said he never meant it?

What would you believe?

I don’t have the answers for this person. Just the hope that this may help her find peace.

One Year Ago

One year ago last week, I decided to accept a date with a guy I wasn’t sure of. Our communications had been stop and start, but they had started again and he seemed nice enough. I hedged accepting the date since he was rather short. But I wasn’t making any effort to set up dates myself anymore and I decided maybe I was being superficial anyway. So I said yes.

One year ago last weekend, I was examining his online photos. I couldn’t tell exactly what he looked like as they weren’t necessarily the best things in the world. He might have been cute or he might have been funny looking. I was hoping for cute. I was bracing for funny looking.

One year ago last weekend, I almost canceled our date and decided never to go out with him. He told me about his divorce and it hadn’t been as far away as I might have liked. I was afraid of rebounds or lingering attachments. My own healing process was still fresh in my mind. I almost called things off, but then I didn’t. What harm could one date do anyway, right?

One year ago today, I met him for brunch. We were the same height. And he was totally cute and not funny looking. I wore a top I would later learn was flashing him a bit too much cleavage when I leaned forward. He didn’t stare.

One year ago today, we were having such a good conversation over brunch that we moved downstairs to the bar area and kept talking. That date lasted about six hours. For the most part, I forgot he was short. And I wondered why I’d let our initial conversations be so stop and start.

One year ago today, I was too cautious to imagine what might come of a six hour date with a cute guy who was my height. I did like that he picked up the tab and walked me to my car. I liked the hug he gave me as we said goodbye. I liked that he followed up with me immediately to ask me out again. But I was too careful to imagine what might happen next.

One year ago today, I met LC. I remember every detail of that date. I remember what we wore, what we ate, and what we drank. I remember how good the conversation was. I remember thinking maybe the height thing wasn’t so big a deal… maybe.I remember thinking he seemed pretty well adjusted about his divorce after all.  I remember looking for what would be wrong this time that would make it not work.

What I don’t remember is ever imagining that one year later we’d still be together. That height really wouldn’t be a big deal. That I would eventually be filled with hope. That we would be strong enough to overcome so many obstacles together. And yet, here we are.

What happened last week was a miscommunication. I still find hoping and believing to be difficult, and sometimes I react first and ask questions later. LC and I have done a lot of soul searching together in the past week or so. But I think it all boils down to something he said to me in the dark this last Thursday night, just before we fell asleep. Just like that, he told me his life is better because I’m in it.

One year ago today I could never have imagined how much I would love him or how much I would want to remain in his life. But today, I know. And I do. And I will. One year ago today we started something great. Here’s hoping there will be many more years of looking back at it all fondly and looking forward to what may come.

Fall

Traditionally fall is a season of change for me. Leaves fall, school years begin, and major life changes take place. In fall I have started new jobs, gotten divorced, met people who will change my life, and sold my house. It’s something about the season that just equals life changes for me like no other. It’s my season, even though in later years it has often been a painful one. I love the cooler temperatures and the trees changing colors. I just love the smell of it. Even though fall has hurt me so often, it is somehow fundamental to who I am.

This fall I can feel things shifting. Things inside me are moving and changing under my skin. I don’t know yet if it’s for the best, but it’s happening.

Last fall I met LC. In fact, in 6 days it will be exactly one year since we met. This fall I am supposed to be giving notice at my apartment. The place that has been all mine, my very first living space that ever was just for me… I’m supposed to promise to leave it this fall. That is the plan. LC and I have looked at apartments, talked about what goes into storage and what stays, and decided which bed we’re going to sleep in. We have a plan.

Last night I asked LC why he wanted to move in with me. He said “Because I like spending time with you.” It was dark and he couldn’t see my face. There was silence. LC broke the silence to ask why I wanted to move in with him. I told him “Because I love you and I want to start building a life with you.” And then I wondered if he could see the difference too. Because now it’s something I can’t forget.

Some year I’ll probably start to hate the fall. I wonder if this year will be it.

Good Timing

You all know I don’t necessarily prescribe to ideas of so-called dating experts and the like. However, you also know that when I manage to let my guard down, I am capable of recognizing the good someone else can do for me. Maybe even let in a new idea or two.

And so it is, without much other explanation, that I will tell you I stumbled across this article this morning. And I think I really needed to see that.

Sometimes my own worst enemy is just me.