Number 1…part 1

 

It’s only been a week into the new year and I’m already running. I ended the old year with a great blog about my newest friends and Number 1 being the closest thing to BEING the one. And now I’m running again. Now I’m panicking. And crying. And being so girlishly possessive it makes me sick. If there’s one thing I hate most, it’s crying…and being sick.

And it occurs to me that I’ve never written a blog about Number 1 and how we became…something—sorry, the term “relationship” just makes me queasy, but that’s what we became.

I was much safer in my little dream world with Luke Skywalker, fighting off bad guys, and making love with the Force. You know you’ve always wanted to!

In the Beginning (one-ish year ago)

So here I was, minding my own business, eating a Turkey Cobb sandwich on my dinner break, when someone decided to interrupt.

“Hey, so I hear you’re an actress,” he says. I look up and see Robert, or Bob, or whatever he went by. He was very tall, had black hair, and amber-colored eyes. Of course I wouldn’t notice his eyes until much later. Needless to say, I was instantly attracted to him. Like BAM-in-your-FACE into him.

He was the new guy. I had already introduced myself to him earlier as I normally do to newbies…

“Hey, who are you?” I said, as he busied himself at the beverage station.

“I’m (Robert or Bob or something),” he said. At the time I couldn’t remember his name exactly. I was too busy trying to look and act cool as my insides were bursting with fiery hormones that wanted to jump all over this poor innocent human male.

“Well, I’m Xanna,” I said. “Welcome to hell.” “Hell” being The Restaurant in this instance. And that was it. I sauntered away as usual, trying to recall his name, but all I could remember was his brilliant smile and surprisingly comforting eyes. Mine, was the only thing that went through my mind. I felt a little smile grow inside of me.

Creepy, isn’t it? When people fall for other people. If you think about it…it really is creepy. But sometimes cute and it just makes you wanna go awwwwwwww……

Anyhow, later that evening, he decided to sit next to me on my dinner break and ask me a whole lot of questions about being an actress, to which I responded with “I’m the starving kind” and surprised me with how much he knew about musicals and such.

I figured he must be gay in some way—which was just my luck because I was always either attracted to gay men or married men—but it turned out he wasn’t and that he was just a history major in college and had an obsession about knowing everything about everything. Don’t ask me why that made me think he wasn’t gay anymore—just did.

And then it happened. Mine flashed through my thoughts again. It had been a while since anyone had sparked that inside of me…come to think of it, never had. And now all I could think of was tall, dark haired man named Robert. Going to work was suddenly fun for the first time. I couldn’t wait to see him.

Sometimes while I worked at one of the computer stations, he would come over and work next to me and ask me more questions. I don’t remember what, but it sounded nice, and all I could think of was mine—mine and yum.

Then one day I invited him out with a group of friends from work. A group of us usual go out to Crown and Anchor, a local English pub, after work and try to forget how awful our jobs are.

“Thanks, but I’ve got my daughter tonight,” he said.

Sting in the chest! (Not a stab, those are much worse). I “inner-winced” and remembered when I dated a guy with a daughter. Yeah, Mr. Georgia. And…it didn’t work out too well. Which was a “heavy” bummer at the time. But hey! Why judge this guy the same way? And the way he said “I’ve got my daughter tonight” made me think, soooooo this guy’s gotta be divorced, right? Who says it that way when they’re married?

“Ah, so you’re married?” I asked, assuming he’d probably say something along the lines of “no, I’m divorced,” or “no, I’m widowed,” or “no, I adopted,” or “no, I had a child out of wedlock and I got to keep her, ha!” which would all be perfect answers to my hopeful little heart…or hormones…or whatever!

“Yes I am,” he said.

………………………………………………STAB!!!!!

“Oh,” I smiled…I think… “Well, why would you say it like that? Why would you say, I’ve got my daughter tonight, as if you’re divorced or something.” Then I threw in a little sarcastic laugh like I was being cool or something. “So where’s your wife, then?”

“She’s got class tonight,” he said, still smiling that annoying patient, yet sweet and gentle and so very attractive, but untouchable smile.

“Ah, yes. Ah, well, that makes sense—yes. Well……………maybe next time.” And I turned my focus to the computer…very intently to the computer, all the while feeling my insides—AND hormones—freeze up and go cold. Of course he’s married. Of course

And that was it.

But it wasn’t…

Being twenty-six. Going where no twenty-something has gone before.

There have been only a few stages of my life where I noticed a massive physical and mental change occur. At thirteen I knew my life from there on out would be hugely different. At eighteen, I knew my childhood had gone and I panicked. I truly felt I wouldn’t survive as an adult. The transition was terrifying.

But I made it to twenty-six. And, again, I sense another major shift in my body and mind. I have confidence now that I can survive the adult world and be happy in it. At twenty-six, working is addicting, even though I am worn out faster. Going out is less appealing as it is to going home and spending time with myself. Of course, this is surely the result of being ridiculously busy.

At twenty-six, all-nighters are no longer easy to do. Coffee no longer keeps me awake, but remains a comfort in the morning.

At twenty-six, I finally obtained a Victoria Secret body, something I had been obsessed with and working on since I was sixteen. And, although my body is stronger than it has ever been, it hurts more. My lower back is now a constant pain and my right knee is weak. Vitamins have become a part of my daily life. And I have high-cholesterol, shocking news that somehow made me feel old. And yet, at twenty-six, I’m still arrogant and carefree.

I’m much more curious and brave at this stage. I want more and more to go where I have never gone before and experience new things. If I can live through it, I want to do it.

Finally I feel a confidence in myself I had never had before. My beliefs and opinions on how to live one’s life is richer and more well-rounded than the days of being naïve and close-minded. I am more fascinated with the way people react and feel, and I’m always searching for newer information. I still feel like I haven’t learned enough.

Emotion is something I have FINALLY been able to make sense of and control. I can rationalize better than I’ve ever had. When I don’t like someone, or they me, I can accept and be okay with it. Because it is impossible to be universally liked. However, treating those you don’t get along with graciously is important.

I have FINALLY learned to be patient, something I’ve been working on ALL my life. That’s an accomplishment I’m really happy about.

I am no longer in need of being needed by a man, as if I thought that gave me some purpose in my life before. It really didn’t.

On the other hand, I have also for the first time, experienced what it was like to be in love, something that had eluded me before. I lost it, but I crave to have it again. Although, strangely, I have no interest in looking for it, I am genuinely excited about finding it. I know now that I have the capability to feel that way, and it is incredible!

At twenty-six, I have come to accept my obsessive compulsive behavior as a unique and intriguing quality, although I may be the only one who feels this way.

And, even though I feel like I am still sixteen years old, in that youthful, playful sort of way, I am now accepted and taken seriously by the adult world. Something that I’ve yearned for most of my life.

Probably one of the most shocking discoveries I had come to realize was that I now want a child. Being someone who never liked or wanted children, I am still puzzled by this sudden change. Maybe by twenty-seven, I’ll go back to normal.

And maybe the reason I’m writing this is to put a mark in time so that when I’m old, I will remember. Hopefully this blog will still exist somewhere in cyberspace by then.

At twenty-six, I still don’t know where I’m going in my life, but instead of being scared by it, I am thrilled. Someone once told me their twenty-sixth year was a good one. I got a feeling, they’re gonna be right.

Thataway

Once upon a time…

…There was a very young girl who liked a very young boy. She’d punch him and shoved him into trees and was so sure he’d know she meant love. But the boy cried, running to the first grade teacher, pointed at the girl, “telling” on her. The girl’s face fell in sadness. She was so sure he knew! And then there was detention. This made the girl very angry, and she vowed to never love the boy again, rather to kick his butt just a little harder next time.boy and girl

As I was growing up, I wanted more than anything to be impervious to emotional pain. I believe most of us strive for this in vain. Because when it comes to relationships, pain is part of the warning label. WARNING: YOU MAY DEVELOP A BROKEN HEART.

As a constant analyzer of human emotional reactions, throughout the years I have examined my closest friends’ relationships, and have been occasionally envious of them. I watched how they showed the most complicated and controversial emotion, love.

First, there was Emm and Jay. The two expressed their love for each other so publicly and so unashamedly it was sickening! And after a year of nearly spending 24/7 with each other, they still seemed stuck in the “honeymoon” phase. In fact, they said the “love you” words to one another within the first week of dating, so who is to say “love at first sight” doesn’t exist.

Then there was Rach and Tony, a tug-o-war sort of relationship. One always being more needy than the other, and when things seemed to be finally leveling out, suddenly the tide would shift and the other person would do all the needing. Always in love, but always unbalanced, grasping at something too far for them to reach.

In my recent couple encounters, I had met a very unique girl and boy called Stunt Gee and Stunt Bee…for they are stunt performers. The two spent nearly every day together for about two years. They were very private with their affections for one another and acted very practical. During one of my conversations with Stunt Gee, she mentioned how she has never said “I love you” to Stunt Bee and believes very strongly that it shouldn’t be thrown out so easily as most people tend to do. She explained to me her viewpoint on the “love emotion” and felt that it should only be said when you mean it. MEANING you will NEVER take it back. Her opinion on love leaned more on the “forever” aspect of things.

I said to her, “Sometimes it feels I’ll never get there.”

She said, “That’s called a broken heart.”

Which leads to me and my new adventures on exploring relationships again. After surviving a fabulously destructive unrequited love relationship, my emotions on love automatically went into full lockdown. This was all subconscious of course, because I honestly didn’t notice myself locking up. That is, until I met the Terminator. I noticed that with such a nice guy, I felt absolutely nothing and wasn’t doing it on purpose. It took a long conversation with my dad, who apparently went through the same lockdown when he was my age, to help me warm up. So I pushed myself into trying love again, allowing it to happen naturally. It was like getting back in the water after nearly drowning to death. I’d been analyzing my every move and emotional response in an attempt to figure myself out, to see if I even knew what being in love felt like. And when I finally decided that I got it, I collected enough courage to whisper it to the Terminator, who, in turn, remained…silent.

So now, after being jealous of my girlfriends’ relationships, how they were all so quick and eager to profess their love and have it returned, after surviving a horrible relationship where the boy never really loved back, then being surrounded by a couple that didn’t believe in saying “I love you,” I find myself not wanting to be involved in the whole mess.

But there’s no getting away from it, not when you decide to get involved with someone else. So I must learn to love happily without being loved in return. Though it sucks! I’d rather take the detention…but not this time. Time to grow up just a little more.