Tag Archives: tyla

Sometimes it's a good hurt

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One night when I was at Tyla’s, we got into the Nice Guy discussion.

“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d dated that perfect, cookie-cut guy.” You know, the one who always holds the door for you and is concerned about your feelings? The one who works three full-time jobs and wants to get his Master’s degree? He’s got goals, he’s got heart and I bet he’d spend all of his money on your flower of choice if he so much as breathed wrong. That guy.

I’ve been courted by many a Nice Guy. One was fourteen and already on his way to becoming a police officer or EMT. He was my best friend and was the first guy to call me beautiful. He asked me out several times and my dumb thirteen-year-old self turned him down. I still can’t explain why. He was funny, smart, driven and called me beautiful when my then-boyfriend managed to forget to tell me that he had a girlfriend in another state who was pregnant with his twins.

This Nice Guy stopped talking to me shortly after we started high school. To this day, he still refuses to speak to me, even though we’re buddies on several social networking sites.

I met another Nice Guy when I first started college. I had just started dating Mike, who was indecisive and made me want to put my head through a wall. (Yes, he still has trouble making up his mind, especially when we’re at a restaurant and the waitress asks us if we’d like to order. Heh.) He listened to my every word, let me cry and blubber on his shoulder when I talked about my miscarriage and the Brand-X Daddy who’d ditched me shortly after. He held doors for me, made me laugh and bought me lunch. Even when Mike unceremoniously dumped me — no babe, you’re never going to live that down :D — this Nice Guy continued to try to make me swoon.

And yet, all I talked about was Mike. MikeMikeMike. I’m sure Nice Guy was getting ready to hunt down Mike and put a bullet in his head so that he could have my full attention. When Mike and I got back together, Nice Guy still tried to court me, but I think he started to realize that I was in love with the bad guy guy I was inexplicably attracted to. Nice Guy continued to be my friend but as soon as he left the state to attend a highly-esteemed university, he cut off all contact with me.

A wise woman once said:

First, I am not a tease. Or a trollop. Befriending someone is not being a tease. Being open with someone is not being a tease. Letting someone get close to you is not being a tease. Telling someone that you care about them as your friend is not being a fucking tease.

Why do I have to be held accountable for someone else not being able to distinguish between friendship and romance?

Each time I encountered the Nice Guys of the world, I made it clear that I just wanted to be friends. (Well, minus one time. But that was during my I-just-got-ditched-after-losing-Brand-X’s-baby stage, so I think it’s excusable. Maybe. I’m sorry, Nice Guy. Really, I am. Especially since I tossed him aside like a used condom once Mike came into the picture. Yikes.) The Nice Guy is not only cookie-cut but also persistent. They don’t understand the word “no.” They can’t grasp the concept of friendship.

They also totally lack reckless abandon, dangerously good looks and the ability to crush your heart with the right choice of words. They don’t know how to break or refuse to make plans. They don’t oversleep or hesitate to pay the bill. They pick you up on time. Nice Guys deserve the world, but I’ve always had trouble giving it to them. Not when I’m in senseless love.

How do you explain a love that makes no sense? I can list a million reasons why I love Mike and still can’t explain why I am in love with this tattooed and sometimes pain-in-the-ass man and not some cookie-cut guy.

Still, Nice Guys need not give up. The first Nice Guy I mentioned is now an EMT and engaged to a beautiful woman who deserves him. Even though he won’t respond to my congratulations, I’m happy for him. I believe there is someone for everyone.

This post is secretly disguising another issue at heart. For the last year I’ve been asking myself how to tell when someone is The One. I finally came up with an answer the other night, and I hold onto it even when I have my doubts — AKA cold feet.

I’ve spent the last twenty years of my life feeling like a black sheep. Just when I think I belong somewhere, I discover I don’t. With Mike, I feel like I fit right in. It’s so easy to be with his family, as if I’d always been a part of them. He gets my jokes and can instantly tell when I’m upset. He also drives me utterly crazy sometimes but when he works third-shift for weeks and I have to look at photographs to remember what he looks like, I miss him. I miss every annoying moment, and if that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is. Each of the bad moments strengthens the good, and vice versa.

If you don’t believe me, just ask Incubus. They know how love rolls.

My problems are overweight

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Lately it’s been one thing after another for me. Just when things start to look up, just when I start to figure a way out, something else crashes down on me. I guess it could be worse, but right now it doesn’t seem like it possibly could be.

On top of trying to figure out how I am going to afford and get to SCSU next semester, having more and more car troubles, seeing (and hearing!) less and less of Mike as he works 10-15 hours during third shift, dealing with my health problems, and dealing with my living arrangements, I’ve received a letter stating that I can’t graduate until I complete the math requirements for my degree.

At first, I scoffed at it. “It’s got to be a mistake,” I told myself; I’d taken both of the required classes that I’d been told by my advisor to take. I called the Associate Registrar who is in charge of the graduation applications and left her a voicemail, under the assumption that the records office had made a mistake.

Wrong.

Apparently I have been misled by my advisor, because the second math course I took is not college-level; it doesn’t count toward my degree. The Associate Registrar called me back and explained this to me as I stood with my mouth hanging open. I told her that my advisor had told me it was the right course, and she said that he was mistaken and that I would have to take the right course before I could graduate.

I ranted and raved to Tyla, who suggested I check to see if any math courses were being offered during the winter special session. No luck.

I talked to Mom, who suggested I try to get in touch with someone at the college and see if they could help me. I’ve emailed the head of the Arts and Humanities Department, so hopefully she can help me or point me in the right direction.

I don’t feel that it’s fair for me to wait a whole other semester because of someone else’s mistake. I can’t attend both colleges at the same time, so I would literally have to wait until Fall 2009 to start at SCSU. I’d also have to wait on advancing my career because I still won’t have the A.A. I mean, if I’d known that the second math course I took was not the right course, I wouldn’t have wasted my time and money on it. I really struggle with math, and those two semesters were utter hell. I still have no idea how I managed to pass them. To think that I didn’t even have to take the second course, and might have to take yet a third is daunting. I already put in six credit hours towards math.

At this point, I’m so desperate that I’m willing to bother every big-wig at my college until someone makes this go away. I was so determined and had finally figured out how I would get to SCSU in the spring, and now this. I’m starting to wonder if I’m meant to graduate. :P

Nothing says "Happy Birthday" like a little dick

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It’s way too easy to waste time online. I need to do some laundry, get in the shower and get some work done on Letters of Love. I sort of want to go to Target and get some new clothes, but I also said I would help Mike’s mom with something. I don’t know if I can fit it all in. Heh.

This weekend has been interesting so far. I had pizza and ice cream cake with the family last night. Kate brought our Aunt Gayle as a surprise guest, because she was in town house sitting for our Aunt Karen. So that was cool. Aunt G was in rare form last night. She was really funny.

After that Mike, Lauren and I went to Sandy’s for my surprise. She and Tyla threw a little party for me. A picture is worth a thousand words, so I’m going to have to post some as soon as I can get my hands on them. Let’s just say that there were little male “parts” everywhere; even my cake was shaped like a you-know-what. I think Mike may have been a little uncomfortable at first. We had a good time, though. We sat around and talked about horror movies and I posed for terrible pictures that can be used as blackmail if Sandy ever decides she hates me. Heh.

Tonight, when Mike gets out of work, we’re probably going to New Britain for Kate’s promotion party. She got promoted to the manager of the floral department at Big Y. Go Kate!

In the meantime, I guess I’d better go throw some things in the laundry. I need something nice and clean for the party tonight.

Boys and girls in the redlight district

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I just realized that, aside from Sandy (and now Tyla), I don’t hang out with any of my friends. I see people posting pictures on their blogs, MySpace accounts, etc, and I rarely do that. Once a week I hang out with two friends and that’s all. I haven’t seen Joe, Nikki, John or other friends in a long time. I see groups of friends at the bowling alley and think to myself, wow, I haven’t done that in a long time. The most excitement in my life is on Fridays. There are no big adventures. Not that I don’t enjoy my Fridays. A couple of people are gonna read this and think the wrong thing. What I mean, I guess, is that I rarely have fun with friends. I’ve never been a particularly outgoing person. Only lately have I really blossomed and reached out. I really enjoy my Friday nights with Sandy, Tyla and sometimes Lauren. I barely even spend time with my boyfriend, but we’re usually out with his family. Don’t get me wrong there, either. I absolutely adore his family.

I guess I’m just starting to wonder if I’m going to end up a hermit. I think my life depends on this Friday, and some other plans this weekend, too. I need to stop sitting around with my nose in a book or my face crammed into the computer screen. I’m missing out on life. I need to get some people together and go do something completely dorky and fun, with cameras and smiles involved. I hate all of you fun people who do stuff with friends all of the time. It is absolutely imperative that something fun happens this weekend. I’m gonna have to make my own damn fun. (:

Insert witty title here

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I decided to clean the shower this afternoon. I got up, put towels in the wash, picked up my paycheck, cashed it, got some stamps (for my pen pals, yay!), went through the drive-thru and got an iced coffee (heaven) and came home. I threw the towels in the drier, threw the shower curtain in the wash and attacked the shower.

I got two blisters on my knuckles (one burst and the other looks really nasty), bleach in my eyes, bleach splattered on one of my favorite tank tops–but the shower is clean and I no longer am afraid the mold will eat me. (:

It was actually kinda fun, minus the bleach on my shirt and blisters. I sang–love the acoustics in that shower–and was in general really silly because no one was around to hear me, hahaha. At one point the washer was going through the rinse cycle and water came out of the shower drain. Of course, being the idiot I am, I thought I broke it and started saying “oh no, oh no” over and over until I realized that what was happening was perfectly normal. I swear I’m a grown-up.

Lauren is at Lake Compounce with her friend so I’ll be going to girls’ night with Sandy without her. I guess Tyla is going to be joining us. It should be fun. Hopefully we can stay awake. Last week Sandy and I called it off earlier than usual because we couldn’t keep our eyes open.

Anyway, I am going to take a shower in my nice clean stall now, after I write a couple letters and stick them in the USPS box across the street.