I guess some things were meant to be...

Tonight, while minding my own business, I received a notification that I had a FB friend request from someone from a past life - college days to be exact. I accepted the request for two reasons - one, we had been so close at one point in our lives it just seemed rude not to and two, to be completely honest, curiosity got the best of me. About him and our "mutual acquaintances."

For anyone that knew me in college, I'm sorry. I'll start with that. My sincere apologies. I was a certified a$$hole. Had there been a salary cap on being the biggest a$$ in all of Northern Virginia, I'd probably have maxed out and still negotiated more on my contract. Aside from losing whatever meager softball career I had left, I dated a jerk. Oftentimes I think about why I'm still single at 29. I'm not saying it's a bad thing or my life is ruined because I'm single, but I think back to all the things that got me to where I am, relationship-wise. I think back to where my trust issues stem from and I'm taken back to the days where he was in my life.

For anyone I've ever dated, I'm sorry. Something else I need to get out of the way. I know I haven't been the easiest person to date. Somehow that's probably in the running for understatement of the year, but I'm sorry and congrats for making it out alive.

My relationship resume probably looks a little like this: I'm pretty sure I doubted every word out of your mouth, thought you were lying about everything under the sun including the color of the sky, thought you were cheating on me with your ex-girlfriend or that skank you met at the bar, didn't believe you when you said your pager ran out of batteries, and worse. There's a reason for that - the first guy I ever really loved (in an adult, I think I can marry you and probably wouldn't abort our baby if we were ever dumb enough to get to that point) did all of that to me. And more. Much more. So needless to say, I'm not so trusting with guys. And it's not just that - I tend to get fixated on an issue and have an impossible time moving past it, and it's definitely hindered more than a few relationships from getting to the next level.

Before you get all crazy on the comments here, I get it - everyone has baggage. Once you reach your late twenties/early thirties, baggage is a prevailing part of the relationshipquation. That's not to say your suitors will all have baby mamas or prenups in the works, but emotional baggage is just as damning, I can assure you.

So back to my distressed and sorrowful college days with this guy. I was a disaster. That was probably when I first developed insomnia. There would be nights he wouldn't come home (while I was asleep in his twin bed upstairs in his parent's house while his little brother slept on the floor beside me, as weird as that may be), there'd be nights he would pocket dial me and I could hear things in the background. There'd be days he'd disappear and no one knew where he was. Not his job, not his family, and certainly not me, "the love of his life". So I'd stay up all night checking my Nokia razor flip phone incessantly waiting for his call. More than a few times this call ended up coming from the police station. I made myself sick waiting up to make sure he was OK. To make sure he was still alive. That he still loved me. That he didn't F.U.C.K another chick. His ex-girlfriend to be exact.

Aside from his lies, his extreme binge drinking (even for a college kid), bouts with drugs, financial struggles, and other problems, there was another constant problem in our relationship - his highschool sweetheart. After a year into our relationship, he transferred to a community college outside Virginia Tech, so we were forced to do long distance. If only I had listened to every single adult that long distance while in college was dumber than marrying Kim Kardashian on E!, this may not be an issue. But I didn't listen. So re-cue all those same alcohol, drug and lying problems, but add into the mix that I was now 4.5 hours away from my unstable boyfriend and his highschool sweetheart was just a mere 15 minutes away at a neighboring college.

I remember skipping some of the biggest sorority parties to either drive up and visit him or sit and talk to him on the phone (or more like wait for sporadic voicemails from him during his fraternity parties where the phone would always cut off as soon as I heard a girl's voice). I remember crying my eyes out because he didn't call for 3 days. His AOL Instant Messenger would change from idle yet he wouldn't respond to my messages. For days. Upon days. I'd have no clue if he was dead or alive, with or without herpes.

And then the phone calls started coming and the dirty away messages (you remember away messages on AIM, right?). His ex and I were in full-on he's mine bitch mode. (Seriously, watch that video as a short interlude.)

Whether she'll admit it or not, I'm finally adult enough to admit we were terrible to each other. Full on stalker mode. She left messages for my friends, and me hers. It became almost obsessive to destroy her than it did to mend my fleeting relationship with this guy. After basically foregoing any enjoyment my last two years in college because I was so upset and consumed with this misery, one day it all became crystal clear. He was in fact cheating on me. He had in fact turned two girls that had never met into two of the biggest enemies on the planet. You thought Robin Ventura and Nolan Ryan had a blood bath? You hadn't seen anything. I moved out from his parent's house (because yes girls, you can get cheated on even if you live with him and his parents) and wrestled with how to move on (which is what led me to move to Miami on a whim, but that's a different story). I was heartbroken and had trusted this guy who swore over and over and over that he loved me and he would never cheat on me. And to find out that every single gut instinct I had wasn't just a nightmare, but reality?

Every once in a while, I still battle with the what if questions. What if I had dated someone who truly loved me unconditionally and respected me during those primitive years? What if the moment I didn't trust him, I left instead of sitting through the pain? What if I had just told his so-called sweetheart she could have him? What if I was a better girlfriend and he never would have thought to cheat on me? What if I didn't quit my sorority because I had a controlling boyfriend?

Anyways, if I have any reader's left after this lengthy onslaught, let me get back to my actual point... The friend request brought all these thoughts and memories back. And low and behold while all this is swirling around in my head, I notice a photo of HER in a wedding gown.

And guess who the groom was?

.jl.

shh...some secrets should be left just that, SECRET.

Being unemployed, I mean SELF-employed, I found myself spending a lot of time on twitter today and ran across this oh-so-true article on Glamour: 5 Things You Don't Want to Know About Your Boyfriend's History.

I am probably the absolute nosiest person alive. Even more so than my mother, which is saying something. It's human nature to want to know everything about your ex. You feel closer, your bond is tighter and secrets can lead to so many unnecessary problems (case in point, the photo to your left).

While this article makes some extremely valid points, I found myself wondering even after reading it if I'd still want to know the answers to some of these questions and I was reminded of one of my ex's.

I found out early on that a guy I had been dating had been married and was recently divorced. That's obviously a pretty big thing you should know and you should want to know before diving into a relationship in your late twenties. Par for the course being the insidiously nosey person that I am, I took the information a little too far.

Ok, a lot too far.

My curiosity was killing me. I had never dated someone that was divorced. And it wasn't the divorced part that bothered me, it was the married part.

That same day he told me, I still didn't believe him given our initial sarcastic banter when we met. Something in my cyber-stalker and immature ways told me to Google him and I stumbled onto their wedding page on The Knot. Aside from being greeted with the "Congratulations! Newlyweds for 186 days!" message and day-ticker, a cute photo taken just moments after the engagement (which just so happened to be a cropped version of my guy's MySpace picture at the time, which did NOT sit well because he looked so damn happy in said picture which used to be one of my favorite pictures of him...), I also got to read about their engagement story. Talk about one for the storybooks.

I couldn't get this image of their fairy-tale engagement story. Being in another country and surprising her and having secretly flown in both their families to meet them on the other side of the mountain top with champagne (yes sir, you read all that right). Knowing that at one time he had met the girl of his dreams, which was quoted in the About section of their page on The Knot. I also read quotes from his family and comments from their friends congratulating them and talking about how they were the "perfect" couple and destined to be together. Talk about information overload. It even gave me information on where and what they registered for. The next time I went to his house I refused to drink coffee out of his Crate and Barrel coffee maker because I knew it was the one they registered for together. He must have gotten it in the divorce.

There are some things that are important to know in relationships. Things they've done wrong, things that make them who they are, lessons they've learned, etc. But heed my warning - do not, I repeat DO NOT ask a question you don't want to the answer to. And do not, I repeat DO NOT ask a question you can't handle the answer to. Those are 2 very different yet equally important warnings I just bestowed upon you.

Thanks to the Glamour article for reeling me back in with this line at the end...

Remember, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back. The moral: never give into curiosity, just look for satisfaction.

(Note, I do not in any capacity feel equipped to offer relationship advice nor make any attempts to, but rest assured if you do the complete opposite of everything I've done in my past relationships, you'll surely find yourself in a healthy, meaningful, long-lasting one.)

.jl.

he just wasn't that into me..

I can't start off by saying I wish I would have known..because unfortunately, I did know. I'm the leader of the pack when it comes to hopeless romantics that get blinded by what is or what could be, and it's a shame.

I have been debating writing this blog for exactly one year. A year ago, I started dating Zach (while privacy for me is not a huge deal, I know it is to him and even though he didn't respect much of anything about me, I will give him the courtesy and respect his privacy). We met a couple years ago at a bar and randomly kept in touch..when it was convenient (read into that what you will). About a year ago, the timing seemed perfect and we talked about actually dating. One night he said, "I just realized we've never even been on a date. I think it's time." As a girl, and remember, hopeless romantic, I was floored. He was so incredibly sweet, sincere and genuine.

On the night of said date, he didn't show. It was his friend's birthday dinner (so he obviously wouldn't forget), but the pickup time came and went and not a peep from Zach. A few hours later, disappointed and heartbroken (because I tend to set myself up for such situations) I sent him a text letting him know I was disappointed and had misjudged him. I had NEVER been stood up before. My dating life has never been stellar, but I'd never been stood up. No call, no show. Never, not me. Not until I met him and not until that night.

I spent the night asking myself why I get my hopes up. What I did wrong. Why wasn't I special enough to stay on his mind. How could he forget someone like me? As a writer with ideas/topics always presenting themselves, I keep a monthly poster-size post-it note on my bedroom door with possible blog topics. That night I wrote "He's Just Not That Into You-personal experience, being stood up", then drank a glass of wine and went to bed.

A few nights later Zach came over. As we were about to fall asleep he read my latest blog idea. He laughed and asked if it was about him. Of course it was. I made it a point to tell him that was the first time I had ever been stood up. Not long after, we officially became a "couple" and I thought things were great. This is the guy I thought I had always dreamed about. But every month when I re-wrote my blog ideas on the post-it, I would write "He's Just Not That Into You". Every month. Zach always asked why I kept putting it back up there. I thought at the time it was because it was a good blog post. That standing someone up was a good indicator he just wasn't into them. And maybe it was my way of reminding myself what happened. Maybe I wanted to warn others about it, without truly realizing what it meant in my own relationship.

What I realize an entire year later that it was a red flag I ignored. I gave him the benefit of the doubt even though I knew what it meant. Looking back at the relationship, the conversations, the commitment issues, everything, it's painstakingly clear he was never into me. If I had trusted my instincts, or maybe backed off, I wouldn't be in the position I am at this exact moment: sad with a broken heart, and angry that I let a guy who clearly wasn't interested into my life.

.jl.

(no one was harmed in the making of this blog, though a few tears were shed..)