Tag Archive | being single

Things I Hold Onto

After a little over three months of knowing him, Libra and I have reached a point where we care about each other, but it won’t go beyond that.

For the past week, I’ve been dealing with figuring out what I want out of this now. He wanted physical space, I gave him that plus emotional distance. I have shut off the part of my heart that felt like we could have been something special, that everything I was willing to give could and would be reciprocated.

I wish Mom was still around. All I have is a mess of boxes to show of the life I had with her, which Libra and I made a special trip to New Jersey just to get all of those boxes. Now they’re consuming the entrance to the house, this wall of boxes that keeps me from my TV and therefore my ability to play video games and just forget about life for a while.

The boxes have been an issue between Libra and I, though I’m not completely against the idea of parting with many of the things I possess. The problem is the difficulty in actually parting with things.

There’s porcelain dinnerware that I could use for special occasions… except I’d be nervous about breaking a piece or scratching it somehow. So I should sell it off and not worry about it… but I worry that I’ll accept less than what the set is worth, and the buyer will resell it and make a profit.

There are items I insisted on keeping because they were aesthetically pleasing to me… some of which I know that Mom and Grandma would have reminded me of who owned that item and how long it had been in our family. I don’t remember any of those stories. I also don’t know if I’ll ever use or need some of the things I kept.

There are collectible toys, and t-shirts, and things that I bought as retail therapy while I lived in New Jersey, because I had the money and I had no one telling me I shouldn’t have these things. And as I go through the boxes, little by little, I’m happier when I uncover something I packed from my childhood home instead of things I packed from New Jersey.

Overall, it’s emotionally overwhelming, realizing that I will have to permanently part with more than just what I’ve decided to part with, that there are some things I will never have again because… because… I can’t come up with a good enough reason. I could buy certain things again, I could get married and have a porcelain dinner set on my registry that I might enjoy more, if I even think I would use it. I could buy more Funko Pop figures, I could buy more t-shirts, I could fill my closet and my walls with things that… look good.

Well, there are some things that cannot be replaced. I found a notebook that my Mom had used to copy her diary into. I took a break from working the boxes, and spent the next hour or two reading every line. The diary mentioned my father in a few places, but most of it seemed to be about this guy named Joe. Mom was clearly in love with Joe. My Dad, however, had been an on-again, off-again guy that she dated, who seemed to be a bit more possessive and into my Mom when he started to come back into her life, though she was still more interested in Joe. And while everyone else seemed to give her cards and such for one birthday, my Dad gave her a bouquet of sweetheart roses, when he wasn’t even her main squeeze at the time.

I kept looking at the reusable shopping bag that I put Mom’s jewelry box into, and I didn’t want to deal with it until today. Most of the jewelry is costume jewelry, nothing I really want but I found a few pieces I might keep. There was also a photo of Mom with another guy, and I had an issue pulling it out of the section it had been set into because the photo was laminated. Once I lifted it free with the use of a brooch, I turned over the photo. Mom often wrote who was in the photo on the back side, usually writing the date as well. On the back was written Joe’s name along with my Mom’s name.

I can’t question why she still had a photo of an ex, as I still have physical photos of my exes. It made me wonder, however, how much time was spent wondering if she had made the right choice to marry my Dad, or if maybe things would have been better with Joe, because I don’t know how things ended between my Mom and Joe at all.

It’s strange, and yet oddly comforting. I feel like my Mom’s love life is reflected in mine right now. Libra is my Joe, the guy who seemed amazing just to talk about him, but he’s not the guy I’m going to end up with.

If there was one hard-to-swallow pill from a year ago, it would be that I should just live my life and deal with the here and now. Living in the here and now got me to living with J, which broke my heart because I hoped there was something there. Living in the here and now brought me here to live with Libra, which broke my heart because I wanted more than he wanted to give me. But living with Libra is forcing me to deal with things I didn’t want to deal with, which I seem to need to do. And if I can sell my things and make enough money, I can go where I still feel I’m meant to be.

I’m going to meet my Japanese friend.

Okay, I’m going to Japan. Meeting my Japanese friend would be a bonus, and yes I hope it happens, and that this is the fairy tale part of my tale. He’s been in my life since about a week or so after things ended with the ex fiancé, and he dealt with me going insane while I was sleeping on my friend’s couch. He introduced me to Japanese entertainment that hadn’t been presented to me before, such as Downtown and Kyosuke Himuro, and to this day I listen to Himuro like it’s melodic comfort food because it’s a part of me now.

He spoke to me through songs, he wanted me taking care of myself when I was at my worst, he stayed in the background while I lived with other guys. I had to do what was best for me, and I feel like I hurt him in the process. But what have I been doing the whole time? I’ve been shopping at Asian supermarkets, buying books to understand how Japanese people think and how they handle romantic relationships, and I’ve basically been low-key preparing myself for a life with him. After all of that, I don’t want to go to Japan solely to meet my Japanese friend, I want to go because I want to go. If I don’t get the guy, maybe I’ll get someone else, or maybe I’ll just live and do what makes me happy.

Whatever happens, I now have a diary of my own, where I talk about the guys who had my heart and what became of them.

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The Tension And The Spark

Tonight marks the eighth night that I’ve slept in this house, and the seventh night I’ve slept in this room.

It’s been a week that hasn’t gone by my expectations, and has been better than I could have hoped for!

There is a problem… or two… or so…

The first problem is that my friend and new landlord, who I’ll call J, plays guitar. And he sings. And he has taught himself how to play piano. Mind you, when he has played this past week, he has played for himself, more often than not just to pass the time. I’ve known him for years, so I already knew he played guitar and sang.

The second problem is that now that I’m away from someone who expects people to do things for her and complains if things weren’t done to her expectations, I’ve reverted back to… well, it’s one of my love languages, which is to do things for others.

I was making a lot of sandwiches for the first few days, using about half a loaf of bread in less than a week as well as the pack of deli meat that J requested I buy when I was getting cat food. So when I got groceries after work mid-week, I bought him more wheat bread and a loaf of white bread for myself and another pack of cheese slices. When I brought in my bin of pantry items, I set it where the remainder of a pack of water bottles was sitting, after I emptied the pack and put the water bottles in the fridge so they would be cold. And over the past 24 hours I tried to rekindle a friendship of his with a somewhat mutual guy friend, only to learn that the friend is only willing to hang out if J will go to him, he won’t come and visit J.

I mean the third problem is that I expected to be antisocial for at least this first week. I figured I’d come home from work, make dinner, take it up to my room, and eat it while watching YouTube on the television or something. I’d spend my free time playing video games or doing whatever on the internet. Instead, J went through all of his movies, asked me if I had seen particular ones or if I wanted to, and had me make a list of movies that needed to be seen. My nights have been spent sitting on his couch while he sits in the chair, and we’ve been watching a few different movies such as Birdman and the new Ghostbusters movie.

If I have a night shift at work, I’ll either text him to tell him I’m on my way back or he will ask when I’m returning. One night after I came home, I fixed myself a dish of ice cream, to which he asked if that was my dinner and I truthfully told him no, that I had brought dinner to work with me. He watches out for me, which is more than I had hoped for, but I certainly appreciate it.

So what IS the problem?

Well, I had a thing for him.

2011 wasn’t my year, even though it wasn’t quite as bad as 2016. 2011 began when J, a previous coworker from a previous call center job, found me on a lesser-known social media site. Later that year, things happened between us. So far he’s been the only one, at least that I can remember, who has pinned me up against the wall (or in this case, a door) and kissed me passionately. You’re probably wondering how things ended, and to be honest I don’t quite remember. I just know his girlfriend at the time claimed to be okay with opening up their relationship, especially since he’s polyamorous and it would make things easier for him, but shortly after that their relationship ended. I had a lot going on, and I don’t remember if I stopped talking to him for a while after the first time my car was rear-ended or the second time that year, because I’m pretty sure we had parted ways before the third time my car was rear-ended that year. Like I said, 2011 wasn’t my year.

Since then, communication was off and on. We might have talked for a day or two or so, and then said nothing to each other for months. So when he texted me a few weeks ago out of the blue, I was a bit reluctant to ask if he had a room to rent, but I was getting desperate and knew I’d have better chances of finding a place to live if it was with another friend.

How did I ask for a room? I asked to stay here platonically. That’s right, I didn’t want any funny business. I didn’t want to move in for sexual reasons, or romantic reasons, or anything like that. I didn’t want to bother him, especially if he had other friends staying here or visiting or whatever. I wanted all of that off the table so it wouldn’t get weird and awkward.

But I forgot, I had a thing for him.

We get each other’s humor. We’re both nerdy and geeky, and will make references that the other one understands and plays off of. We have similar life views. He plays guitar, and I melt a bit when I hear someone play guitar in front of me, especially acoustic.

I still have a thing for my friend in Japan, whose name was incorporated into my self-selected password for work. I kept telling myself, I’m choosing my friend from Japan, I don’t want to get tied down here in the States because then I might never leave and go live in Japan like I want to do. Even if I don’t end up with my friend from Japan, I’ll still have every reason to be focused on going over there.

And suddenly I understand why J is polyamorous. Because I know that my personality goes so well with J’s, but my friend from Japan makes me want to improve myself or otherwise be a better version of what I already am. J doesn’t share my love of Japanese stuff aside from some anime, but I could discuss the whole culture with my friend from Japan and get his thoughts if he’s willing to share them.

Just the same, it’s another reason why I’m in no hurry to find my next significant other. The question has become, “what do I really want in my next relationship?” The only answer I can give is, “to not make another mistake.” For now, it feels easier to not be in a relationship, to just spend time and observe, to not have hopes and expectations of marriage, and to not complicate things by having sexual involvement with anyone.

I may, in fact, be torturing myself. However, it feels like it’s been too long since I’ve been kind and thoughtful and generous without expectation for it. I like feeling as if I’ve done something nice, and then feeling like it’s been appreciated. I also enjoy feeling like my presence matters, like someone cares enough to make sure I’m getting home without a scratch. I wouldn’t have that much if I lived alone, and it might even be awkward if I moved in with people I didn’t know. So I’ll deal with the torture.

If nothing else, then I’ll know the reasons why the girl who has his heart will be a really lucky girl. I’ll know the things that would bother her, that she might have to overlook or compensate for if she got involved with him for the long term. I might be the one who decides between A, B, and C, with my choice being the thing that makes her happy. And even if he’s not with me, does that really matter? Because J is a good person, he cares about others and he deserves to be happy, So I want him to be happy.

And I want to stay here for a while. Not just because of him, but there is so much I enjoy about being here. I like not coming home to just my cat, I like living so close to work that I can walk there. I like the fact that I haven’t had to buy something to sleep on yet, that it was provided and it’s not a couch. I like that the only reason why I won’t have a wireless internet signal is because I’m too far from the router, not because someone else didn’t sweep a dust particle from the corner of the room and so the whole house looks trashed because of it and everyone has to be punished. Let’s not forget, I’m paying less to live here than I would elsewhere, and it’s a pretty good deal if you consider that utilities are included and I also get a person who gives a damn about me. Let’s not screw that up.

Supposedly my Facebook page, not my personal page but the one where these posts are published to, has been popping up for some people who I’ve spoken to in the past. Chances are, J will see this post as a result of that… and things will get awkward. Or my friend from Japan will see this post… and he will stop talking to me because he will say that someone else might be better for me or something.

Regardless of what happens, life will continue on the path it was meant to go, and I can only hope for the best possible outcome. It doesn’t matter what happens for me. I’d rather find out I wasn’t meant for a person before I get involved with them. I’d rather have J be happy with whoever and however many women it takes to make him feel complete. I’d rather have my friend from Japan find someone who is less of a pain in the ass than I am, but I don’t mind staying if he really enjoys me being a challenge.

There will always be a guitarist, somewhere.

There will always be someone who gets my humor.

There will always be someone who gives a damn about my safety and well-being.

And there will always be someone whose day was improved by my presence.

Why Still Single? What Should You Change About Yourself?

I was watching videos on YouTube earlier today, when I came across one from a channel called Find Your Love In Japan. Well okay, I won’t rule out finding love in Japan, and I’ve watched a few videos from that channel which have given me hope that I could find love over there. But the one video in particular was titled, “Why Do You Think I’m Still Single?” It was the owner of the channel doing his normal street interviews, but he was asking people what he could change about himself to become more attractive to the opposite gender.

In the video, people asked Nobita about his personality, and they cited various things about his appearance and such. As someone who knows as much about him as everyone who met him on the street, I have to say I wouldn’t change a thing about him. Let me tell you why.

People could tell you to go to the gym, either to lose weight or to bulk up your muscles. There will always be people who like chubbier people or less muscular guys.

People could tell you to dress more nicely, either to wear a nice suit or dress or just to not wear sneakers. You never know when you might need to get a little dirty or you might need to run or climb for the sake of helping the one who’s caught your eye.

People can tell you to change your sense of humor, to be less sarcastic or bitter or something. You could bore your partner if they’re holding back because they don’t think you’d appreciate their sarcasm.

You can cut your hair short, but there will be someone looking for long haired partners.

You can hide your interests, perhaps going so far as to sell every comic book or video game or figurine that you own. True love might have walked in to the nerd convention that you decided not to attend.

Maybe you’re sensing a trend. If not, here’s the secret: no matter what you change about yourself, there will always be someone who wants a person like how you used to be.

“But what if there’s something I really have to change about myself?” you ask. That’s a good question. Start with your last relationship. If you’ve never had a relationship, I highly recommend jumping into one. You might have to lower your standards a bit, and that might be part of your issue (looking for absolute perfection and expecting to find it without getting to know a person). After your relationship comes to an end, evaluate what worked and what didn’t. Now you have a starting point to figure out what it is you need to change, because now you’ll know that something didn’t work and you’ll know what it is. If it’s something you can change, then you probably should try to change that.

If you just want to change something for the sake of being a new person, then take cooking classes, or learn how to do basic maintenance on a car, or learn massage therapy, some kind of skill that might be useful later on. To start, any classes you take will put you around people also trying to learn the same things, which means you have a chance to ask someone out on a date to “practice what you’re learning.” Whether or not you use it as an opportunity to practice your new skills is up to you. If your classes are filled with people who are absolutely not your type, it’s not an issue. When you finish the class, you’ll know how to make something better than blue-box macaroni and cheese, or you’ll be able to change the oil in a car, or you can work on achy muscles, or you’ll have learned some useful skill. Then when you do meet the right person, you can impress them with your cooking, fix their car when they’re in a bind, take care of their neck muscles after they slept in a weird position, or whatever else you learned.

But of course, everything comes down to one thing: how confident are you?

Confidence is your ace in the hole. You need to be confident enough that you have a genuine smile on your face. Shyness will only get you so far, as it’s one thing to be shy because you’re nervous but chronic shyness will keep you from everything. If you’re not comfortable in the clothes you’re wearing, or the way your hair looks, or the shoes you’re wearing, then change and wear something that will make you feel comfortable and confident. Decide for yourself if you want to find someone who likes you for you, or if you want someone who likes people who are everything you aren’t. Also understand that you could still attract a person whose type is usually all of the things that don’t equate to being you, and they might find you charming as you are.

Ruling out negative personality aspects, if you’re still single, it’s not you but rather just timing. You will find love eventually, and whatever dry spell you’re facing exists only to make you appreciate love when it comes. Just be the best, most honest version of yourself that you can be, and things will eventually fall into place. If your heart pulls you towards a certain location, try traveling there and see what happens. Even a failed relationship gives you an opportunity to learn about yourself and what you need to change, if anything. Don’t be afraid to fall in love, and don’t deny your feelings to yourself.

And denying your feelings works both ways. If you’re into a person, but things don’t look right in theory, give it a shot regardless. If you’re not into a person but can’t figure out why not, give it a shot but keep one foot outside in case you need to run.

Beyond that, if you’re still single, tell yourself that a significant other would just hold you back from your real destiny, then focus your time and energy on your passions. Who knows? You might be a writer of some sort, who would channel your emotions into a song or a poem or a full novel.

But go forth confidently, and become the person you believe is deserving of love. (Here’s a hint: you are already deserving of love, you just need to find it)

Creepin’ Up On You

Last night, I dreamed that I met Lewis from Unbox Therapy. It was at a convention, or maybe we were in his new studio but around a lot of people and tables and such, because it was inside of a large, open room. I don’t remember what I said to him now, I just remember that he got away from me and I received a note from him that was given to me by someone else. The note was written in Elizabethan, like it was from someone who was in a Renaissance Faire. The message was very clearly saying that I was being creepy, and that’s why he distanced himself from me.

When I woke up, I couldn’t believe that someone like him would even send along a message in anything other than plain English, that was my first thought. Secondly, he lives in Canada, and I’m not getting a passport to properly stalk him because that would be stupid. And finally, I was in disbelief that I was considered to be creepy, but then again I think we all have our moments.

Friday night, I went out for karaoke and met up with a cousin of mine. She recently lost her mom, and as she had already lost her father years before my dad passed, we were in the same boat in regards to grieving. Although she was her normal self on the outside, I did have to ask how she was holding up on the inside. The whole time I was at the karaoke club, she was holding up rather well, and she especially held her alcohol.

I left the place sometime after midnight, because I didn’t have a key to get back into the house where I’m staying, I didn’t want to keep anyone up too late while waiting for me, and I was likely to be woken up early the next morning by young boys who forget that they should be quiet when someone is sleeping.

The nest morning, I woke up to two young boys who wanted to play Xbox downstairs where I was sleeping, because their Xbox One upstairs has two controllers needing to be recharged, plus one of the user accounts is locked out and needs a password. I turned the volume down while they played, but turned off the television when they were consistently being loud. They weren’t playing fair with each other, and I wasn’t going to tolerate it.

It was a morning for coffee, that was certain. I felt like I was a splitting headache short of a hangover, which would be pathetic if the one alcoholic drink I had all evening had that much of an effect on my system.

As the day carried on, I learned that someone was carried out. While I was still at the karaoke bar, a guy came up to my cousin and was totally getting hands-on with her waist every so often. He had a disgustingly annoying laugh, and all I could imagine was his laugh coming from a mound of sludge, an image which didn’t repulse me any less than being in his presence. He was slightly taller than me, with pale skin and dark hair covered by a baseball hat. I felt like he worked a blue collar job like construction or maybe in a junk yard or something similar, because it didn’t seem like his element was an office environment at all.

I said to my cousin’s friend that I found him to be creepy, and she agreed. Neither of us knew who he was, and didn’t know if my cousin knew him either. He bought drinks for us; my cousin had another beer, her friend had another shot of Fireball, and I had my second ginger ale for the night. When her friend questioned me about my choice, I told her that there was no alcohol so I was safe to drive home, and no caffeine so I could get to sleep once I got there.

I don’t know how many rounds he bought, but I’m guessing he felt like he was owed something. He apparently tried to separate my cousin from the bar and from her friend. I don’t know how much things escalated, but the bouncer removed the guy from the bar from what I was told. I wish I was there to see everything unfold, but I did need to sleep eventually and that would have kept me up much later, not to mention the adrenaline I’d have to come down from if I was actually there.

Perhaps life runs at a necessary pace, that is to say, sometimes you’re meant to be at a specific location and other times you’re meant to leave. I was there to see the guy and know he was creepy, but I didn’t need to be there as the night wore on. My cousin’s friend needed to be there to protect her because I couldn’t.

And maybe I needed to have that dream to become aware that I might even be seen as being creepy to some. So I was thinking, I should write to Lewis and tell him that I had that dream, that it meant a lot to me. That certainly wouldn’t be a creepy thing to do at all (but I am certainly being sarcastic and not serious about it).