The Trouble with One

On a few recent occasions, when friends have inquired about my dating life, I expressed some exhaustion with it. As I near the end of my three-month stint on a harmonious online dating site, I haven't been matched with anyone on the 29 dimensions of compatibility that's resulted in that 30th dimension - actually being someone I wanted to date.

And since that 30th dimension seems to continually elude me, I've started contemplating the very real possibility that there's not someone out there for me. When I say this, it is not accompanied by a litany of my faults and insecurities. It is not backed up with a diatribe against my neuroses and cottage cheese thighs. In fact, the word "because" doesn't factor in...because I don't know why this is the case.

At a recent happy hour with coworkers, a good friend and coworker called bullsh*t on me repeatedly. Maybe because he assumed that my monologue of faults was just 'round the bend, but then, after I calmed him down and explained my position, he still angrily denied the possibility that I could be alone.

I think that this argument comes from a place of affection - those who care about me don't want me to be alone. There's the impulse to defend my honor to me and force me to acknowledge my finer attributes, even though I wasn't making an attack on myself in the first place.

But, let's face it: the world is not Noah's Ark. We don't all go about two by two.

And what is it to other people if I accept solitude? I'm not locked away in a convent somewhere. I'm not even exhibiting particularly spinster-like behavior. My social calendar is rather full, in fact.

I'm unclear on why accepting one's single status is so unacceptable. If I don't concede that it's a possibility, I live my life in a constant state of discontent waiting for what will be. And what of putting off things until that time? Should I constantly hit the hold button on living life until there's someone to share it with?

And for the record, it's hard enough to not feel sorry for oneself for not having someone. I don't need someone to tell me that I should be feeling sorry for myself.

So I'm not going to feel sorry for myself. I'm going to take a deep breath every day and remind myself that I am okay all alone. That by myself, I've bought a house and have a great job and am surrounded by truly amazing friends and have a wonderful family. I'm going to be open to what comes, embrace my freedom and remind myself that I am not incomplete. In fact, I'm extraordinary. And until something comes along that is equally extraordinary, I'm going to be happy being in a long-term relationship with one amazing person: me.

Dear Kudzu:

I miss you today. I always miss you on bad days. And lonely days. And days like today that are just restless with some sort of frustrating energy that beats you all day long until you want to turn on it and demand what exactly it wants from you.

I saw your sister Mischief over the weekend, and I petted her with my eyes closed and pretended for just a moment that it was you. That was sort of a mistake because it made me twice as sad when I opened my eyes.

Big things seem to be on the horizon. I'm not sure what they are, but I can feel them looming ahead, shadowy and indistinct. Whether these specters of the future are friends or foes, I can't say. And right now, I think of them like The Knockers. Which reminds me - be glad you weren't here for Dillon's recent proclamation that "The Darkness lives in the birdhouse" in our bathroom. I'm guessing it moved in after you died.

Even though this is a letter, the kind you would expect to be filled with updates on every detail of life, I'm not going to update you on anything vexing because I know you wouldn't ask me to recount how I don't quite really totally completely live in my house yet. Or the state of my love life, which is questionable...like something you aren't sure whether or not it's gone bad. If you were here, I'd hold out my love life and say, "Smell this" and gauge your reaction. And if you made that face you used to make when you forgot that you hated the smell of toothpaste, I'd scrap it and declare my celibacy forever.

I can feel myself doing stupid things right now - things that don't make any logical sense. Things that I know I'm going to wish I had stopped - like when you know you shouldn't eat any more but you do and then you sit in miserable bloated pain for an hour. I'm going to be in miserable bloated emotional pain before all this is through, and it would be so much more manageable if you were here.

I hope you are well, growing fat on the green tips of spider plants and watching over your me.

Love,
Ashley

I Have a Dream

Almost 50 years ago, Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his famous "I Have a Dream" speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Almost six months ago, I started to dream about starting a volunteer group in the ATown for me and other singletons as a way to make friends and do something productive, make a difference. And today, my dream became a realization...so it was on a playground and not the Lincoln Memorial, but, all the same...

It's fairly lofty to compare my small town volunteer group to one of the greatest visionaries of the modern age, but I like to think that Dr. King would've been proud today. I hope he would've been proud of the group that spent the morning at an elementary school clearing a nature trail of debris so that the outdoor classroom teacher can use the space. I hope he would've been proud of the group that worked together for three hours on the service project in his honor. I hope he would've been proud of the group that included men and women, a myriad of ethnicities, and a hodge-podge of religions. I hope he would've been proud that we all labored in the cold, smiling and laughing, because the selflessness of it felt so good.

I hope he would've been proud that I had a dream that shared some of the same visions he had.

I hope he would've been proud. I like to think so.

Happiness New Year

The seconds are ticking off until it's 2009. Without question, this year has been one of the most difficult of my life...and I thought 2007 was bad. The truth is, this was undoubtedly a terrible year in so many ways. But in other ways - friends made, acquaintances renewed, steps taken forward in this new life - it was a successful year.

And while it's impossible for me to forget Ronnie's death and how it changed everything about our family, my life, and my perspective, I must also remember that life goes on. The days continue to pass, and though I will continue to keep his memory, it would be an insult for me to let that keep me from living.

So...here's to a review of 2008, a year of losses and gains, of grief and gratitude, of seriousness and snark. I will be ringing in the new year with faith, hope and love...those things that I've learned are essential under any circumstances. Happy New Year, my dears.


January: Measuring Up: In Praise of Junk in the Trunk


February: Devastate, In All Its Forms


March: Just the Five of Us: The Shape of a Family and The New Theory of Relativity




April: This is a List


May: Weeds


June: Father's Day






July: Ghosts of Trees


August: Gratitude: A Letter to the Universe





September: Meet the Parents (or My Not-So-Great Evil Plan)





October: Tumbled Thoughts from the Shoreline


November: Gratitude: Part V - Love (and more gratitude)


December: Let It Snow

Gratitude: Part III - Oneness

Right now is marking the longest I've been single since I was 19. Somewhere along the way, after my first "serious" boyfriend in college, I became a serial dater. I flowed from one relationship to the next without taking a pause to breathe. A decade of continuous relationshipping - ten years in which I grew and changed but didn't have a lot of time to myself.

I know I complain about it. I worry over it. I self-deprecate endlessly about it. My oneness. And while it's true that I have to live with it, that I have to find out that, yes, one is the loneliest number, it's taught me a lot about myself. I mean, when it's just me, myself and I, the pickings are slim.

I often lament the depth with which I feel things when it's sadness or pain. But it's that depth that gives me something to balance against when the good comes along. Like a see-saw, what goes down must come up. So I'm learning to think of this all relatively...that the oneness and all its trimmings - the loneliness, the awkwardness, the grumpiness, the sadness - give me such a strong perspective on being single that when I finally find a match (assuming there's one out there?) it'll be something spectacular. Or so I tell myself.

But for now, I'm thankful for my oneness. That in myself, I've finally found someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Midnight Miscellany

* I am on Facebook, the seventh time-suckage wonder of the world. This has led to the good, the bad, and the ugly: reunited with a long-silent friend who lives in the ATown; found Chad D., love of my 15-year-old life; and a guy I went to high school with wearing a cowboy hat and a very curly blonde wig, making him just about the ugliest girl I've ever seen.

* Tomorrow is the Come-to-Jesus Part 2: Status Redux. I'll be heading to his house with pizza and indigestion following work tomorrow. Stay tuned.

* Yesterday, my client sent my boss a note about what a great writer I am. I mean, I know it's Writing for The Man, but still, it warms my heart.

* Dillon now says my whole name - although he finds the "l" a bit tricky. But I'll take "Ashey" anyday - even when it's followed by the demand, "Socks off!"

* I am getting the ball rolling with my own volunteer group. I'm both nervous and excited. It's thrilling to think that it could work and be great, and terrifying to think I will be a singles volunteer group with a single volunteer - me.

* The weekend will be partially devoted to a Thanksgiving party with friends - and partly to finishing Breaking Dawn.

* Good night.

Tumbled Thoughts from the Shoreline

Right now, I'm sitting on the, well, we'll call it a balcony of my hotel room and listening to the Atlantic fall on the sand again and again. There's enough of a breeze that it's sort of chilly in a way that simultaneously makes me want to go inside and want to sit here shivering just to feel alive. It could be that I'm tired - I was up til 2 a.m. working on our project and then up at 6:45 to get back to it - but I find myself staring into the inky darkness and thinking harder than I want to...

* About working too much. There was the trip to Orlando. And then another to Atlanta after that. I left yesterday morning to be on J.I. now. I'm headed back tomorrow, and then early Wednesday, I'll get up and head to Atlanta. And it's good...I'm proud of myself. But I wonder, what about everything else?

* I'm on this trip with two guys who have kids, and they're always talking about their kids. And I have nothing. I mean, I tell my Dillon stories like a good auntie and laughingly interject something about Kudzu, but sometimes, it just feels empty.

* I feel sad about The Professor and his ex. I feel sorry for her. And I feel sorry for me. It's just a weird place to be in for both of us - me and this girl I don't even know. I feel like she's having to go through the place I just was, and I'm looking at the situation, and thinking, "I'm glad that's not me."

* There's a quiet right now - besides the constancy of the ocean - that makes me feel so solitary. I can't hear anyone else talking, no signs of life. The quiet is almost eerie, and far more lonely than soothing.

* Lately, I've been thinking a lot about how we all think that happily ever after will happen to us. But the truth is, there are so many people who don't have it. For every happily-ever-after is an also-ran. I'm not condemning myself as an also ran yet - and this really isn't the part where I want everyone to tell me that my day will come. This is the part where I face the reality that you don't get everything. And I have stellar friends and a fabulous family life and a good career...and lots of wonderful things. I spend entirely too much time thinking about the missing pieces...especially in light of the fact that maybe - just maybe - they were never meant to be part of the whole.

Gettin' Down to Biz-ness

* With the fancy schmancy cocktail party at the Atlanta office tomorrow. Rah.

* With the college homecoming festivities - I can hardly wait for fried chicken on the hill. And I've charged my camera battery so that I can take approximately 800 photos.

* With yet another business trip to J. Island that promises to be...interesting. Leaving Sunday and gone on Monday and Tuesday. And packing my flack jacket for the angry mobs that are likely to be staking out our meeting.

* With yet another big opportunity at work in Atlanta on Wednesday - again, hand-picked by the creative director. And he reviewed my work from last week's meeting today and said he was so proud that he nearly teared up. And then I nearly did in turn.

* With a less fancy schmancy cocktail party next Thursday hosted by a friend of mine at a downtown hotel. And despite its lesser level of schmancy, I'm looking forward to time with friends.

* With pondering items about The Professor...the significance of the fine line between "when" and "if"...i.e. remarks like "When you meet my parents who live in a far distant state on the other side of the country" as oppose to if. Like it's a done deal. Like yesterday, he said "when" in reference to a family reunion. And then there's the EX Factor. As in his ex is coming for a visit - a closure visit, I guess? So. Yeah. She's here all next week, and I'll just be...waiting??

* With subsequently considering when or if to pursue dating someone else (no one in particular - unless Christian Bale is available)...but just...someone to keep if from turning into when so fast. Plus, I'm a hot ticket - wildly successful in my career, fantastic taste in shoes, and I'm smokin'. So maybe I should share the wealth.

* And then with thinking, Who am I kidding? It's 10 o'clock and I just want to go to bed and finish Twilight.

An Appeal to The Kurt

As those of us long in blogdom know, The Kurt possesses one quality in measure beyond any of the rest of us: mysteriousness. Though some have tried to unravel the innate mysteriousness of The Kurt, the man (men? pods?) remains shrouded in uncertainties, suppositions and theories. If he were still alive, Robert Stack would totally be standing in a misty alley somewhere talking about the supernatural phenomenon of The Kurt. Unfortunately for us all, it is unlikely that Robert Stack and a host of anonymous tipsters could pinpoint the whereabouts, vocation, truth of The Kurt. He's got one foot ahead of Bigfoot in that regard.

But, I am not here to appeal to The Kurt to reveal himself (herself? itself?) to me. Rather, I am here to beseech The Kurt to impart the wisdom of his ways. Because that quality which The Kurt possesses ad infinitum...well, I have ad zeronium. Help me, The Kurt. You're my only hope.

I am dating again, wandering around with the other singletons and trying to match up well. The problem is, I say too much. There's very little air of mystery around me after, oh, say thirty minutes. As you dear readers know, I'm quite proning to airing every last stitch of dirty laundry without a second thought. And I'm thinking that the male varietal might be more captivated by an air of mystery than the airing of my every thought. I try to hold my tongue. I try to consider how one would be mysterious, but it simply isn't an affectation I've mastered.

So, The Kurt, please consider a brief tutorial on mysteriousness. I'm quite sure you could get Time Life to publish it as an addendum to its Mysteries of the Unexplained series. Your guidance could be my ticket out of singledom. Please teach me how to hoodwink the boys into thinking I'm spectacularly mysterious - before I reveal my every waking-sleeping-eating-dreaming-breathing thought.

Thank you for your consideration.

Thursday Miscellany

* When I'm in the shower in the morning debating what to wear, I imagine my clothing options just like Cher's computer program in Clueless, sliding tops and bottoms back and forth for consideration in my mind.

* My mom has new glasses. This may explain why she purchased prune-flavored yogurt for me instead of mixed berry.

* Rumor has it that Johnny Depp is signing on to play The Riddler in the next installment of Batman. Oh please, oh please say it's true.

* NY Fashion Week purportedly featured models that demonstrated that "thin isn't so in" - several size 2s and 4s worked the runway this year. So go ahead and eat that ice cream, ladies.

* I sort of love my hairdryer. Like, it's been with me through a lot. It comforts me to count on it every morning.

* I'm going on a date tomorrow. A third date, actually.

* In one month? NEW Keane AND Ray LaMontagne. Perfect Symmetry and Gossip in the Grain drop Oct. 14.

* I can't believe Kenley got through with that abhorrent dress last night on ProRun. Although, Blayne's was an atrocity. I'm with Heidi, "Ooooh, that's bad."

* The debut of Fringe has me jonesing to pick up the Dawson's Creek series finale and watch it will eating a whole cookie cake by myself. I heart Pacey.

Emotional Pickpocketing

Yesterday was the Rockstar's last day. Last week, I went to his farewell outing - a bowling extravaganza filled with shouts and razzing and toasts and a definite sadness tinging the whole affair. A part of me absorbed it...felt sad because he is leaving, and after a year, I'd like to think I could call him a friend. But it was also the memory of all that I went through last year seeping from the corners of my mind. As the departure was unfolding, I could see little flashes of my own life layered over his. When he hugged me yesterday, and I wished him luck, I felt like I was talking to myself a little bit...a little bit letting go of that person I was then and wishing her luck as she tries to become the person she is now.

***
More and more lately, I've been feeling the quiet beginnings of the panic. The disrupted stomach. The irrational anxiety of anticipating "it." I went to the doctor last week who asked if I wanted to up my dosage. And I said no, I should try and do this. I should try and do this life thing without having to adjust my medication up and up and up. So I'm pushing through, pushing up the threshold of discomfort and willing myself to work through it, one deep breath at a time.

***
I turned 29 earlier this month. And while I flogged my coworkers for the lack of festivities surrounding my birthday, it was really me that caused the disappointment. It was really me who didn't celebrate myself. It was really me who let my birthday be a reminder of all the things I'm not, all the things I lack, instead of all the things I am and all the things I have. What an empty feeling to be consumed by absences on a day that should be spent building a totem of great memories and accomplishments.

***
My laptop has been a source of immense frustration of late. One of the hinges has cracked and the lid won't stay upright, falling instead into an almost horizontal position. On top of that, some part of Microsoft Office is malfunctioning, auto-launching, and utilizing 99% of my CPU capacity. And it's like, Really? Is everything in my life broken?

***
Yesterday, on the drive home, I felt restless. I shifted in the seat. I peered through the grubby windshield at the searing cerulean sky. I saw a few blue-black crows perched in the naked branches of a dying tree. It felt like someone might cue the classic Sergio Leone whistle in the background. It was a showdown between me and waiting. It's been so long on this precipice, me perched, angled forward, looking for what's next. And held back by the gravity of all that's happened. I'm waiting for something - something good and hopeful. Something that gives me an indication that there is a way out of this valley of the shadow of death and not just endless wandering.

***
We start looking at the weekends coming up through the end of the summer and the fall and planning out who has to do what when and where. I realize how scheduled we are with this and that family obligation - things I would normally look forward to, but now seem like just another outing that will perpetuate our togetherness. I could stay home, stay away, but even the thought of it starts the guilt to gnawing away at me. In my mind, coulds and shoulds and wants and needs get so tangled up that I don't know what to do. So I stay tied up in where I am right now, resenting all the hands on the other ends of the strings that are pulling me in every direction.

***
Despite my bravado, I realized the other day that there's almost no chance that I'll even be married before I'm 30. And that's okay. Really. It is. I know that. But sometimes - just sometimes - I want to let my guard down and say that's not how I imagined things.

***
Last week, I had a really, really super important client meeting with the client I landed awhile back. I thought everything went well. I was nervous leading up to it, felt pretty A-game in the midst of it, and relieved as soon as the meeting participants filed out the door. I headed from the office to have a beer with some friends. I missed a call from my boss while I was in the bar. I called him back to find that at least one of the participants was disappointed and felt like we didn't deliver. And that fragile euphoria came crashing down around me, and I felt 16 tons of disappointment fall upon my shoulders.

***
This weekend, I woke up early to go to the salon with Anna, and when I got back home, I said, "I have to take a nap." And it was true. I was bankrupt.

With every passing day, it seems there's emotional thievery going on. These unexpected strains slip in and steal little pieces of me. There are those things that I face everyday that I know I'm going to spend my time and energy and willpower on - some that I even choose to exert some emotional funds for. But these stealthy hands that swipe my reserves are tearing me down a piece at a time, leaving me penniless. I'm utterly broke, with nothing left to give and not even enough for myself.

Tuesday's Littany

* My toenails are currently painted white. I'm trying it out. For Mom. Who bought the nail polish for herself but wanted to see if it looked too hip for her. I love that woman.

* Suspect that STGD may no longer be reading my blog for lack of posts containing reference to him. BUT, here he is, and as always, my heart beats for no one else. PLUS, will see him in a month which will surely spur posting.

* Which brings me to the fact that I will likely be wearing a swimsuit with former coworkers. Is that weird?

* Contacted on Friday by a Slightly Creepy Single (i.e. not the Creepy Single). Attempted GREAT diplomacy in saying that I'm not interested.

* Currently considering solitary travel - I know, I know. My mother will have a stroke. But surely I can handle three days in New England by myself?

* Had I remembered that Women's Murder Club is set in San Fran, I would've tried harder to set up a meeting with the girls.

* I love this post that I wrote about Kudzu at the Smartini Bar.

* Never EVER try to upload 385 photos to Shutterfly at one time.

* Currently on download list - Toad the Wet Sprocket, Better than Ezra, Soul Asylum. Yes, I'm totally having a "recover your 8th grade year" moment.

Flirtation Flabbergastation

Flirtation Flabbergastation is a condition, often experienced by single women in a crowded room overly populated by Creepy Singles (homosapien desperatus). Onset includes an uneasy sensation when in the sights of a Creepy Single, clearly approaching to "chat you up." Further symptoms include a slight panic followed by furtive glances and agitation if there is no escape route.

You may encounter a slightly sweaty handshake coupled with overly aggressive eye contact. In turn you may begin to sweat. It may become difficult to smile. You may lose your train of thought in the very uncomfortable situation.

Attempt to alleviate the symptoms with forced laughter and comments on the weather. Focus on the affirmation of being flirted with rather than the alarming need to get away from a Creepy Single. Try not to be suffocated by the air of desperation emitted by his poor attempts to be witty and charming. Instead, use telepathic energy to direct the people near you - anyone? - to save you from the situation.

It is very important to remain calm as Flirtation Flabbergastation takes hold; after all, egos are fragile and treatment must be applied judiciously and with tact.

If symptoms do not subside and the situation becomes chronic, look at your empty glass and excuse yourself. If at all possible, escape without dispensing your business card to avoid a relapse. Try not to vomit when you are unable to do so and instead hand over a small white card with your cell phone number on it. Ugh.