Unpacking my Baggage, Part 4

So it was when I finally gained some confidence that I met someone with whom a true relationship would form. This was my first real grown-up relationship. It also broke my nine-month record. When that happened I thought it'd be this grand moment for me, but by that point I realized that it didn't really matter as much as I had always thought.

(Note: I will be writing about this particular boyfriend periodically and, for the sake of confidentiality, I'll be referring to him as "Paris." This goes with the whole Romeo & Juliet theme. Paris, if you recall, was the man that Juliet was SUPPOSED to marry. That is, before Romeo came along to sweep her off her pretty little feet. Also, my daughter will heretofore be known as "Julietta." You know, like "little Juliet." Cute, right?)

I had actually known Paris for a long time but didn't know him well. We reunited at a friend's wedding, where the sparks started flying the moment we laid eyes on each other. In the months after we started dating, we would recall that night over and over again, how it was so obvious that fate had brought us together. There were so many signs, so many similarities between our individual thoughts and actions that night. I had never experienced that kind of connection with anyone before, and neither had he.

Our relationship was long-distance at first. We would talk on the phone for three hours a night, easily, and we'd see each other any time we possibly could. He made surprise visits often, which thrilled me. He also made me several mixed CDs with "our songs," and wrote elaborate emails about how much he loved me. He had an unprecedented passion for music, politics, food, adrenaline and me. And he was extremely good-looking. I was IN HEAVEN.

Paris was great with Julietta, and she was crazy about him. She was drawn to his endless supply of energy and enthusiasm. Sometimes I felt left out, watching the two of them have so much fun together. Yet at the same time I was grateful that I had found this seemingly perfect guy who loved my daughter and whom my daughter loved.

All that time that I'd been searching for the right man, I'd foolishly believed that, when it comes to Julietta, the guy just had to be someone who really cared about her. So when Paris had passed that test, I thought the coast was clear. However, I learned the hard way that a person can love my daughter till the day is long, but if he can't accept ALL of the nooks and crannies that come with our unconventional little family, chaos will ensue. 

Before I knew it, Paris and I were fighting almost every night. And they were not you-left-the-toilet-seat-up-again fights. I'm talking hard-core, earth-shattering, heartwrenching fights. The kind that would leave us more confused coming out of it than going in. The kind that never seemed to have a solution, no matter how desperately we tried to find one.

But we still loved each other with a passion, and we still believed that we were meant to be together. I think we were also stubbornly determined to make it work, whatever the cost. We were insistent on fitting that square peg into the round slot. 

So, what did we do?

We got engaged.

My Latest Obsession(s)

Today begins the third and final week of the Scarcity Myth Experiment, which means I now have to look at, smile and say hello (or "hey!" or "what up?" or "which way to the weight room?", etc.) to someone I find attractive. I must say, now that I'm at this point, I'm a little nervous! It does take a lot of guts to talk to someone you don't know—and whose wife or girlfriend could potentially be lingering around the corner. But I'm determined to try it, merely for curiosity's sake. But not for anything else's sake. I wouldn't go behind curiosity's back like that—it's been good to me.

Also, I saw another movie tonight that I have to recommend to anyone who has a pulse. It's an independent film called Bella. I chose to rent this film because: 

a) Several people told me I should;

b) I kinda have a thing for the name Bella; and

c) This is the lead actor...

Need I say more?

I needn't, but I will.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the film is even more beautiful than Eduardo Verástegui is. It's not really a story of romantic love, although there are glimpses of that. It's more a story of how a broken soul finds healing, and how even the most unlikely people in your life can provide just the support you need to find said healing. And the best thing about it? Every single second of this film could have been real life. I'm amazed at how the writers, director and cast were able to give the viewer such an honest, vulnerable and beautiful glimpse of reality as we know it. 

Just a warning: You're probably going to cry at some point while watching this film. (Even you macho men out there may shed a tear). And if you're a parent? Just grab tissues now. That's all I'm sayin'. 

If any of you have seen Bella, I'd love to hear your thoughts about it. In the meantime, I will be dreaming of Eduardo...

The Hollywoodization of America

I just started attending a new church, and funny enough, the past two sermons have been about marriage. I've discussed before my cynicism about marriage. So to hear that it can not only work, but also be this beautiful, fruitful, peaceful thing... well, let's just say I'm beginning to warm up to the idea again.

There are three specific details mentioned in these sermons that completely shook the core of my previous conceptions about marriage. No matter what your spiritual beliefs are, I'm confident you can learn from them as well. I will be paraphrasing the words of Gary Thomas and Bob Bouwer, respectively, who gave the sermons. Of course, they tell it much better than I do, so if you'd like to download the podcasts, you can do so here.

Check this out...

1) Gary Thomas says that the idea of "falling in love" with someone before marrying them, didn't even exist until about the 1400s. The concept of romantic love was later perpetuated by the romantic poets like Shakespeare, and of course now is all over the place in today's American culture. But for thousands of years, before the 1400s, people married solely out of natural necessity rather than love. This puts into perspective the way our selection process has drastically changed, and makes the idea of marrying simply for romantic love, seem kind of silly.

2) Similarly, according to Bob Bouwer, there was a recent study done on Christian marriages in the U.S. versus India. In all of the American marriages studied, the couples had gone through the process of dating, falling in love and then choosing to get married. The Indian marriages, however, were all pre-arranged. There was no dating or courting; some of them didn't even meet until their wedding day. And according to this study, 41% of American Christian marriages end in divorce. The Indian marriages? Less than 2%. Unbelievable. This goes to show that our reasons for marrying may be just a tad off base. Bouwer put it this way: "The commitment should always come first. Then the love."

3) You know those big swooping feelings you get when you first fall in love with someone? How you think about them constantly and you get butterflies in your stomach and all that jazz? Well, according to Gary Thomas, it is a proven, scientific, biological fact that those feelings inevitably go away after only 12 to 18 months. So that means, if you're choosing or have chosen to marry someone because you've never felt that way about anyone in your whole life, then you will surely be disappointed when, after a couple of years, that feeling disappears. Thomas's point is that our culture's expectations are out of whack. We focus too much on looking for that perfect someone who will sweep us off of our feet, when the reality is, that person will only end up falling off of the superficial pedestal we have placed them on.

What's refreshing about knowing these facts is that it shifts our lofty ideas of what marriage should be. I think we have been so Hollywood-ized, brainwashed to believe in soulmates and love at first sight. So sometimes, when reality turns out to be anything less than that perfect picture, we think we've made a mistake. Like we've chosen the wrong mate and therefore need to find the right one. And the downward spiral begins.

I know not every marriage is like this. I personally know many married couples who have not fallen into this spiral, because they understand the idea of commitment-over-love. I want to congratulate these couples, and also emulate them. So beginning this week, I am going to highlight some of the strongest married couples I know. They will be sharing how they found each other, and how they stick together even during life's most unstickable moments. I think everyone—married or not—will have a lot to learn from these amazing people. So stay tuned!

Things You Love

Thanks to the whole TWO PEOPLE who participated in my first-ever "contest." I'm glad to know I have such an abundance of participatory readers. But for all I know, these two commenters are the only ones reading this silly blog, so I guess I can't complain.

Whatever the case, they each listed multiple things they love, so it was still a somewhat difficult decision. I had a hard time deciding whether or not to judge based on relatability or creativity. I decided on the former but will still give credit for the latter.

So here are the winners...

3rd place: From lindsay, "Picking/popping anything pickable/popable. Gross, I know." It is gross, Lindsay, but we all agree that this is a disturbingly satisfying activity. I was actually going to put this on my list but I changed my mind because I didn't want to sound disgusting. Thank you for doing the dirty work for me.

2nd place: Again, from lindsay, "Changing into my lounging clothes." This is one of the first things I do when I get home from work. After a long day at the office, it is sooooooo therapeutic.

And the first-place winner is...

From I'm Cas., "I time laundry perfectly and the sheets come out clean, dry and warm right before I need to put sheets on and go to bed." This is so right-on, so something I would do. In fact, I'm really mad at myself for not thinking of it when making my own list. I wish I could crawl into a bed of warm sheets right now, but that would mean doing laundry at 11:23 p.m., which means it'd be 1:00 a.m. before I could even go to bed. And my bed is already mad at me that I'm not in it right now. It's all, "Suck it up, dude, you need me. So you're gonna take me cold or you're not gonna take me at all!" And I'm like "Hey, look, don't yell at me, aiiight? This was all I'm Cas.'s fault for putting such a crazy idea in my head. Maybe if some MORE PEOPLE had participated in my CONTEST, I would be content with my cold sheets, okay?"

Ahem.

I would also like to give I'm Cas. honorable mention for using the phrase "Carbohydrate Wonderland" in one of her other items. Sounds like a place I need to visit.

I should also probably visit my bed before it starts swingin'. Good Night!

Things I Love

My blog posts have been rather intense this week, what with my continuous saga of one failed relationship after another. I think it's time I lighten the mood a little. 

This is a blog about love, right? So I feel it's appropriate that I periodically share things that I, well, love. I'm talking about those little everyday moments when you find yourself saying, "I love it when..." I believe that these moments are some of the best this life has to offer, so I consider it my civil duty to document them. You may not agree with all of my choices, but simma down, you'll get your turn.

Things I Love...

1. Pressing buttons on an elevator. No matter what age I am, it never gets old.

2. When my text message alert goes off. *Bing!* Someone likes me!

3. When my co-workers and I are all slap-happy at the same time. Everyone else may think we're annoying, but we think we're hilarious.

4. The word "pshaw." It's better read than said. Pure literary magic, that word.

5. Looking up my house on Google Earth. It's creepy and awesome all at the same time.

6. When I wake up in the middle of the night and realize I still have several hours left to sleep. What? It's only midnight? Not 6 a.m.? Sweet!!

7. When I can sing (say?) an entire rap song, word for word. It is one of the most fulfilling experiences on earth, is it not? My specialties are: "Everybody Dance Now" by C&C Music Factory, "Knockin' Boots" by Candyman (filthy lyrics, but I know all of them!), and the theme song to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. (I know I'm not alone on that one. Holla!)

That's all I've got for now, but I will make other "Things I Love" lists from time to time. Because I'm sure there are hundreds of things that I love and I don't even know it.

In the meantime, I want to know your "I love it when..." moments! Leave a comment about it, and I will pick my favorite one and feature it on tomorrow's post! I don't have any fancy prizes or anything, but my opinion is prize enough, am I right?

Pshaw.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 3

Many people have asked me what dating is like as a single mom, and I never really know what to tell them. In many ways, it doesn't seem to be all that different from regular-person dating. Of course, there are some things I am more aware of. I'm very careful about who I introduce my daughter to. I don't want her to get attached to every Tom, Dick and Harry who so much as looks at me. Also, there isn't a lot of room for spontaneity in my relationships, what with the whole childcare issue and everything. 

But the real question, I think, should be directed at the men who have dated me. I'm still surprised by guys' reactions when they find out that I'm a single mom. When I first had the baby, I guess I expected that men would run far away from me. And some did, of course, but most didn't. Most guys didn't act phased at all that I had a child. Some even thought it was cool. This was such a relief—and a shock—to me.

But usually, a switch would eventually take place. At first everything would be great, but when they learned the truth of what it really means to date a single mom, all hell would break loose.

It didn't help that I transformed from being a cool commitment-phobe to a clingy husband-hunter. Becoming a mother made me want so much more for my life. I learned how to love another human in a way I had never experienced before. And I wanted to transfer that over to my romantic relationships. I was so intent on having the other necessary component for a happy little nuclear family as I knew it, that it made me over-eager. 

Guys aren't all that crazy about the over-eager.

After about three years' worth of rejection and disappointment, I started to get my life together in every other area of my life (i.e. moving up in my career, moving out of my parents' house... you know, independent woman stuff). And in doing so, I finally gained the confidence I had been lacking when I was too busy forcing a cookie-cutter life upon my boyfriends.

It was at this point that I realized I didn't NEED a man, dangit.

And that is precisely when a man showed up.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 2

I've been boy-crazy since I was, like, four. I don't know why. I guess it's just the way the good Lord made me. But whatever the reason, my affection for boys has dominated my life for pretty much all of my life.

I've had many boyfriends, my first being when I was in 5th grade. Since then, I've dated more guys than I can count. I used to think this was normal, going out with someone for two months or so and then simply moving to the next one. But then I got to college and realized that most of my peers had maybe only one or two boyfriends/girlfriends in their whole lifetime, and these relationships lasted for two, sometimes three, sometimes more years. 

This was a big wake-up call for me. I felt like I was missing out on something big. At that point in my life, I had never known what it was like to be in a relationship for longer than 9 months. So I became obsessed with breaking that record. Because otherwise, I feared, something must be seriously wrong with me. I also became obsessed with the length of other people's relationships. I wanted to know if there was anyone else out there like me, who operated by the "shorter is better" mentality. When I'd meet someone new (girl or guy), I'd ask how long their longest relationship was. Most responses ranged in the one-to-two-year range. Upon hearing that, every time, my disappointment was palpable.

After much soul-searching, I learned that the reason I wasn't experiencing this kind of commitment in my relationships is because all that time, I'd been looking for the "high" that I thought a boy/guy/man could bring me. And as some of you may know, a "high," by nature, always comes down. It never lasts forever. So when one high ended, I'd skip the scene and leave it clean, in search of my next "drug." 

There was one time when I was so in need of something exciting, something to bring me fulfillment, that I became careless. And, well, my carelessness resulted in something that would change my life forever. 

That's right, I got knocked up.

Having a child obviously changed my world. Better yet, it took my world by the feet, turned it upside down and shook it, until all of my preconceived notions about life and love were emptied out. Then, it gently flipped me right side up and slowly began filling my world again, with a whole new consciousness.

That's when my romantic relationships took a turn, and mostly for the worse. Stay tuned...

Recommended reading, and some other bizness

Well, it looks like it's unanimous that sitting on the same side of the booth is a definite NAY. I'm glad to know I'm not alone. But if any of you out there DO like to sit on the same side of the booth as your snoogems, and were too ashamed to admit it, I still love you anyway. I just might think you're a little weird. ;-)

_________________________________________________

If you like a good love story, then you must read this real-life account, written by one of my favorite bloggers (The Pioneer Woman), about how she met and married her husband (whom she calls Marlboro Man). To date, she has written 37 continual entries about it, and each one is equally juicy, captivating and addicting. When I read through them I was glued to my computer screen, anxiously awaiting every little detail. It's good. And very funny too. (FYI: When you get to the page, scroll all the way to the bottom to read the first entry, and work your way up. It may take you a few sittings to get through all of it. If you can turn away, that is.)

Also, today begins Week 2 of SME! Which means I can now officially smile at the attractive men I look at. I already did that today, with a guy at the gas station. He smiled back. But that could have been because gas is now only $3.59 instead of $10.59, or whatever price that Ike guy forced upon us.

I begrudgingly admit that SME has already opened my eyes to the idea that there are in fact more potential dating prospects out there than I realized. However, I'm not really taking it too seriously (if you couldn't tell). I'm actually in the mindset that I probably shouldn't be meeting any men right now. But I will save that fascinating psychoanalysis for a future post. 

In the meantime, I have a question. Today I was in a restaurant and I saw a couple sitting on the same side of the booth (leaving the other side empty, ya know?). The idea of sitting this way in a restaurant has always intrigued me because I like to think about exactly how and why it happens. I mean, how was the decision made for them to sit that way? Does one have to invite the other to sit on the same side as them, or is it a given? Is it a one-time thing or do they sit this way in every restaurant?

So anyway, I'm taking a poll: Sitting on the same side of the booth... yay or nay?

Facelift

Yay! I finally found a new background that is actually pleasing to the eyes, compared to the hideous one I had before. 

Okay, you can read the post below now. It's much more interesting than this one.

The Forrest Gump in me

But then, there are opportunities for healing everywhere, even in your own back yard.

I had the day off of work today and the weather this morning was glorious. There's a bike/jogging trail near my house and I'd never really used it, so I figured today was the day to check it out. 

The trail winds through the whole town, kind of on the outskirts, but in the midst of trees and streams. It's a really cool asset for a town to have. Once I stepped onto the trail, I started running. And then I started smiling.

The sky was a bright blue. The leaves on the trees towering above me pierced the sky's blue in sharp contrast. The wind blew lightly against my face, in a way that made me feel like some sort of aerodynamic machine.

I couldn't get enough of this trail, this beautiful nature surrounding me. I ran farther and longer than I ever have in my life. And that's huge for me. (When I was in 7th grade, I had a crush on the star of the track team. To be closer to him, I joined the team, even though I NEARLY HYPERVENTILATED every time I ran around the track. And guess what happened? About two weeks after I joined, I overheard the handsome track star telling one of his buddies that I "look funny" when I run. The love of my life, the one for whom I suffered physical pain, was now making fun of me for the very thing I thought would draw him to me. I've had a grudge against running ever since.)

This time, though, it didn't hurt. This time, my feet were moving in the same synchronized pattern that my breath was flowing. I was in a continuous state of moving forward, leaving behind me the disappointment of my parents' divorce, the heartbreak of past relationships, the fear of the future. And of course I pounded the ground a little harder when I pictured the face of that stupid seventh-grade track star boy. Ha. Look who's laughing now.

Every once in a while another jogger/biker/walker would pass by me, and we would greet each other with a nod, a smile or a simple hello. We all had this unspoken sense of kinship, brought together by something we had in common. It's like what we were really saying to each other was, "Hello, friend. I'm glad to see that you're making your life better today. I know it's challenging, but you'll get through it. We're all in this together."

It was in the middle of the run that I recognized the power of self-discipline, and how I needed to apply it to every area of my life. That, and the concept of leaving behind that which drags me down, and moving toward that which makes me new and improved.

After I crossed my self-appointed finish line (which, for drama's sake, was preceded by the only uphill slope on the trail), I smiled, said a prayer of thanks... and walked it out.

Unpacking My Baggage, Part 1

I grew up in a family that was as nuclear as it gets. I had a mom, a dad, an older brother and a younger sister. We did everything together, as a family. We ate dinner together every night (each with our own assigned seats). We kids participated in the same activities (Like band. Don't laugh.), and our parents were involved in those activities too. (Mom was president of the Band Boosters Club. Again, don't laugh.) 

We had so much fun together. Our nightly dinners usually involved lots of laughter. My father, brother and sister are real comedians, so there was never a dull moment. On weekends, my mother would find fun, inexpensive things for us to do as a family. Twice a year, we took family road trips to the east coast. 

Good things always just happened to our family. We had some snafus every once in a while, of course, but for the most part, we were well-behaved kids with two parents who loved us and loved each other. People used to call us the Brady Bunch. Like we were too good to be true.

My parents appeared to have a good marriage. They were affectionate with each other, and as we kids grew older and more independent, they started to build their own little life apart from us. They went on dates and took swing-dance lessons. On Friday nights they'd hang out with one of their many couple friends. Life was good.

So that's why, when they divorced this past year, the world as I knew it was swept up from under my feet.

Now that I'm older and know more of the story, I can see where some of the pitfalls were, all those years. I can see how tiny little molehills eventually turned into mighty mountains. I know that my parents never fought in front of us—never gave us any warning—because they wanted to protect us. And I know that, even though they told us over and over again that "divorce is not an option," it became one, simply because it just got to the point where it needed to be.

When I think back to the memories I have of our family during "the good ol' days," there's one that sticks out in my mind the most. We were in the kitchen, teasing Dad because he had this habit of leaving the cabinet doors open. We were all laughing hysterically about it, and then Dad came up behind Mom, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the neck. My siblings and I were horrified by this gesture of course, throwing out trash talk like, "Gross!", "Eww!", "Get a room!"

What I would give now, for my parents to be hugging and kissing in a kitchen full of open cabinet doors.

When you grow up in a household that has such a solid foundation, and when that foundation starts to give way and eventually crumbles into a million pieces... well, it can be a mess. So you clean up and build a new foundation. But you may not trust that new foundation very much. After all, you thought the old one was sturdy but it wasn't, so what's going to happen with this new one?

I'll stop speaking in metaphors now, but surely you can understand why I'm so conflicted about this whole love-and-marriage thing. I want it more than anything, but am afraid that it will someday go away like my parents' did. 

Words of Wisdom from a Wise and Wordy Waitress

Check this out. 

In yesterday's post? When I doubted that there might be a hot man walking down my street? Well, today I went for a walk around the block (for no other reason than to take a walk, I swear). And wouldn't ya know it? Here comes a guy, all tall and well-dressed and with dimples, strolling toward me. I started to laugh out loud, thinking about how I basically fulfilled my own sarcastic prophecy from yesterday. I think the lady who wrote that Scarcity Myth article paid the guy to walk down the street, just to prove to me that it can happen. Whatever. I looked him in the eye and that was that. 

Just thought I'd share.

I also want to share my adoration for a great movie that I watched last night. It's called Waitress, and was suggested to me by a friend. (Thanks, nodrama!) It is a beautiful story about love, life, integrity and friendship. I don't agree with some of the things that go on in the relationships depicted in the film (i.e. cheating), but that also adds to its complexity.

There's one line in particular that is so pure and so true that I just had to share it with you. First, the premise: Throughout the film the main character Jenna is writing a letter to her unborn baby, giving life lessons as things happen to her. For years, this woman has suffered abuse of some sort by pretty much every influential man in her life, and finally she meets someone who sees nothing but the good in her and who never fails to express it. At one point he expresses it simply by hugging her. To which Jenna's voiceover says,

"Dear Baby, I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight and that's all they do. They don't pull away. They don't look at your face. They don't try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness in it."

Such simple words for such powerful sentiment. And when you hear the words and watch the scene at the same time, in the compelling context that surrounds it... ohmagoodness. Your heart will melt into a puddle of warm, gooey goodness, all the way down to your toes. So make sure you wear socks.

L to the B, and an update

Thanks to everyone who commented, either on the blog itself or to me personally, on yesterday's post about the Lover/Beloved debate. It was interesting... all of the married people said pretty much the same thing, that it's a full-circle type of love, a give-and-take, etc. And all of the non-married people who spoke to me about it offline were all, "You're so right about this! There is always one that loves more than the other!"

 

I'm sensing a pattern here. And I can't speak for all of the non-marrieds, but it looks like, in my experience, I simply haven't been in a relationship where the Lover/Beloved business is run like the well-oiled machine it's supposed to be. I just haven't found the right guy yet. I've also learned that when I do find the right one, I need to stop worrying about this stuff and just chillax.

And speaking of finding this so-called One,  I wanted to give a brief update on the Scarcity Myth Experiment  (heretofore known as SME). I was supposed to start the first week of SME (which requires that I look an attractive person in the eye every day) on Monday. It wasn't until about 7pm on Monday night that I realized, uh-oh, I didn't look at anyone today. I had considered leaving the house again, just so I could follow through on my assignment, but what was I gonna do? Walk down the street? Hope that some hot man would come walking in my direction? Doubtful. Sorry, SME, I'll catch ya tomorrow.

Which was today. And I forgot about it again, until I was at the grocery store after work. And even then it was by accident. I was walking down the aisle when I saw a dark figure walking my way. I could see out of the corner of my eye that this figure was looking at me. It wasn't until he passed by me when I realized that the figure was a man. Who looked pretty cute. (As cute as someone can look from the back, anyway.) I know that he had been looking at me but I was so intent on finding the peanut butter that I missed my chance to look at him. In the eye. But not smiling. Because that would be breaking the rules.

So, I guess this little experiment is more difficult than I thought. But I'm going to go to bed early, wake up refreshed, put my game face on, and look at attractive men all over the place tomorrow. I'll be knockin' em dead, left and right, with my looks in the eyes. Just wait and see. 

It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it.

The Lover and the Beloved

When I was in my junior year of high school, I discovered something about love that, frankly, I didn't want to know. And to this day I still wish I had never made the discovery.

It happened when I read a book (the name of which is lost on me now). This book tells the fictional story of a man and a woman who live out the roles of the Lover and the Beloved. 

The Lover/Beloved philosophy is a long-time belief (even mentioned in the Bible) that in every romantic relationship, there is one who is loved and one who does the loving. For example, say we have John and Jane Doe. We'll call John the Lover and Jane the Beloved. John, being the awesome Lover he is, eagerly adores Jane. He gives her gifts, compliments, kisses, hugs, anything he can do to show his love for her. Jane, the Beloved, sits back and takes it all in. She is being loved, hence the name Beloved. Jane does show love too—she's not that selfish—but her expression of love is not as urgent nor as frequent as that of the Lover.

This philosophy suggests that in every relationship, there is one whose feelings are stronger than the other's. It says that humans are wired in a way that love cannot be mutual. The philosophy suggests that this is natural, that it is what makes love the way that it is.

But I think that is so unfair. Who wants to be the one who's loved less? 

So now, in every relationship I've been in since the 11th grade (which is basically every relationship I've been in), I've assigned which of us was the Lover and which was the Beloved. The times where I was the Lover, I felt like I was acting desperate—and it kind of hurt my feelings. Why doesn't my Beloved boyfriend like me as much as I like him? What's wrong with me? Oh and FYI, in these relationships, I was always the one who was dumped. 

There have been several times when I was the Beloved though, which is a lot more fun. But it often made me wonder about the Lover on the other side of the relationship. Why is he trying so hard to win my affection? And why am I hardly trying to win his? I must be settling.

See? I am screwed up. But to be clear, this is not something I consciously think about all the time when I'm with someone. It's just an overall observation of this whole stupid philosophy that just happens to be annoyingly true in my experience.

So here's what I want to know from those of you who are in solid, healthy relationships. Is there any truth to this Lover/Beloved thing? And if so, what does that look like in your relationship? Or, do you believe that you and your partner share mutual love? Is it possible to love someone as much as they love you?

Beloved readers, I would Love to hear from you...

The Scarcity Myth

One of the things I often find myself and my other single friends saying is, "All of the good ones are taken." I have this tendency to believe that any guy who is worth dating has already been snatched up by some lucky lady, and that I've somehow missed the boat.

I came across this article on Yahoo, about how the very belief of this so-called "Scarcity Myth" could be the main reason why a person is single. It's all about thinking happy thoughts, apparently. That, and I guess you have to look at someone if you're interested in them. Who woulda thunk?

The article suggests doing a three-week experiment to "Debunk the Scarcity Myth," and maybe even meet someone in the meantime. You can read the full article for more details, but here's basically how the experiment works:

Week 1: Make eye contact with someone you find attractive, at least one time a day every day for a week.

Week 2: Make eye contact and smile at a person you find attractive, every day for a week.

Week 3: Make eye contact, smile, and... Are you ready for this? It's pretty tough but... say hello to a person you find attractive, every day for a week.

I guess the purpose of this exercise is to be proactive, to open your eyes and your mind to all of the potential mates that you come across every day. You're supposed to discover that there are more prospects out there than you originally thought.

I think it's kind of funny that you have to work yourself up to the shocking level of boldness you reach in week three. I guess doing all three things at once in the first week is just too much to handle. If during the first week the person you make eye contact with starts a conversation, run away yelling, "Not until week three! We can't talk for two more weeks! And don't even think about smiling at me!"

Because I'm making fun of this exercise I should probably try it, so that relationship-advice karma doesn't come back to bite me someday. I'll report back on the scientific results of the experiment. If any of you decide to try it too, let me know how it goes.

What's in a Name?

It took me more than two months to figure out what to name this silly blog. I've always felt a lot of pressure about coming up with good names. It all goes back to when I was in second grade and I was in this club called Awana, which is like the Christian version of Girl and Boy Scouts. There was a contest where we had to enter a name for the local chapter's newsletter. I came up with "The Awana Chronicle," which was chosen as the winner. The leaders gushed all over me, like I was some sort of genius. They even gave me a sweatshirt. Ever since then, I've felt this tremendous responsibility to live up to my legacy as an Award-winning Name Creator. I know how child actors feel. Really.  

So that's a long way of saying I had issues with settling on a name for this blog. But finally I landed on Juliet Seeks. Here's why it seemed to work...

As you know, Juliet is a character from one of the most well-known love stories of all times. And if I'm going to be writing about love, well, it's a natural fit.

Also, I can relate to Juliet. While I may not be rich nor royal, I have had my fair share of Romeos. And I, like Juliet, have a tendency to choose the wrong men. I can totally picture myself doing what Jules did... I'm at a party filled with all kinds of young, polite, handsome men, and who do I go and fall in love with? The one who is the bane of my family's existence. I'm like a magnet to tragically flawed men. But everyone has flaws, I justify. And part of loving someone is accepting their flaws, right? What could happen? 

Famous last words. Because something does happen, every time. Things may start out well but quickly get kind of shaky, then all sorts of crap starts spiraling out of control. And before you know it the relationship is on its deathbed, brought there by a knife and a little poison.

Yeah, Juliet and I are disturbingly very much alike.

As for the other word in the title—seeks—well, I'll tell you what it is I'm seeking: A single white male who enjoys walks on the beach and....

Kidding.

In all seriousness, I'm seeking what we all seek. We all want to be loved, maybe even more so than we want to love someone. We want for that love to last, to reinvent itself, to continue to charge us. And this goes beyond romantic love too. We seek after love and acceptance from everyone who is important to us: our parents, children, friends, bosses, pets...

I'm also seeking answers. To questions like, why do relationships (and more specifically, marriages) end? How do we keep them from ending? Why is it that we always want what we don't have? And what is the reason behind people's tragic flaws, anyway?

This is what is on the mind of a young woman who falls too easily for the wrong men. This is what Juliet seeks.

Mind Control

It's annoying, isn't it, how much of our time and energy is spent thinking about relationships? When you're not in a relationship you want to be in one; when you're in a relationship you want to be out of one. When you're having problems with your mate, it consumes your mood, behavior and view of the world. When you first fall in love, it consumes your mood, behavior and view of the world.

When your mind is on love, the rest of it just might as well not exist.

I'm currently reading the book Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, and at one point she tells a story about her friend who is a psychologist. This friend was asked to counsel a group of Cambodian refugees—all of whom had experienced gruesome trials and tragedies that you and I couldn't even fathom. Because of this, the psychologist was very nervous about counseling them. But every one of those refugees ended up coming to her with the same kind of story. "It was all: 'I met this guy when I was living in the refugee camp, and we fell in love. I thought he really loved me, but then we were separated on different boats, and he took up with my cousin. Now he's married to her, but he says he really loves me, and he keeps calling me, and I know I should tell him to go away, but I still love him and I can't stop thinking about him. And I don't know what to do...'"

All of us who are human—no matter what our circumstances or origins—are basically obsessed with love. 

This is fascinating to me. So I decided to start writing about it. I want to share my experiences, fears, insecurities, victories, oddities, questionalities (not a real word but it should be)—all the things that come to my head when it comes to love and relationships. I want to pick other people's brains about it. I want to discuss what our sometimes messed-up/sometimes right-on culture has to say about it. I want to laugh about it, cry about it, just let it out! 

The reason we have this obsession with love is because it goes far beyond the black-and-white boundaries of boy-meets-girl. I want to explore the excruciatingly painful yet delightfully intriguing gray areas. 

Stay tuned...