Love and Memories...

I can't remember the first time he kissed me.

I know it was senior year, but I can't remember the exact moment in time like I can with other first kisses. I vividly remember my first kiss. I remember the first kiss from other boys, but I can't remember the first time he kissed me. I know I wrote about it, in one of the many volumes of journals I kept at the time. Every last detail, down to what we wore, how we tilted our heads, if noses bumped, where it happened, and exactly how it felt. I know it was at school. That's where everything occurred between us. The scandal that was 'us'. You can't be a senior dating a freshman without scandal.

I do remember, how his heart sounded when I laid my head against his chest in class. I remember spending more time listening to that sound, than my Spanish teacher. I remember holding his hand until both our palms were clammy with sweat. I remember letting go simultaneously, quickly rubbing my hand against my skirt, and then linking fingers again. I remember our fights. Always over something ridiculous because of my quick temper. I remember the perfect red rose in my locker, and the handwritten note that went with it. I remember the feel of his hair as I ran my hands through it in the cafeteria. How he towered over me, and enveloped me with his hugs. I remember...I remember dancing with him, and experiencing that moment everyone talks about, where its just the two of you in a crowded room.

I remember one kiss more vividly than most. More recent than high school so that aids the memory. He was driving, and held my hand across the center console as always. For some reason our palms less sweaty than in high school. It was pouring down rain, and we were on twisting, winding middle of no where country roads. The kind of roads, I was sure, if we drove off no one would find us for days. Every curve found me white knuckling my seat with one hand, and white knuckling his hand with the other. I prefer to drive myself in bad weather. He just chuckled every time.

'Don't you trust me?', he asked me.

We came to a stop where one road dead ended into another. I was still gripping my seat, staring dead ahead trying to breath deeply. I heard his seat belt click open and turned my head. I felt his hand on the side of my face, and then he kissed me. I smelled his cologne, felt his stubble scratch me lightly. That wasn't there in high school. I didn't move. I couldn't really. He kissed me, and I felt a jolt from the top of my head and down my legs. My fingers tingled and my lips stung. My heart pounded. My stomach dropped and then flipped. This kiss. This simple kiss to reassure me, and take my mind of the road affected me that much. It wasn't a long, just a moment. He pulled back and smiled at me in the impish way he does. When he knows he has won. Leaned back to the drivers seat, and put his seat belt back on. I raised my hands to my mouth, in the most cliche way possible thinking all these years later and his kiss still does that.

I can't remember the last time he kissed me.

I Still Love Love and I Like my Ex

Hi all!

So this is technically my first single Valentine's Day in a long time.

I've gotten a few concerned texts, pitying looks, ect.

I'M FINE GUYS.

REALLY.

I LOVE this holiday. I LOVE this day. Heck I'm wearing a hot pink dress at work!

I'm not angry, bitter or resentful. For my friends that have someone special to share this day with, I'm truly happy for them. For myself, I get to spend my evening with Boomer who asked me yesterday to be her Valentine. (I sent her a flower from the cheerleaders at her school and she thought it was the coolest thing ever, so she asked me.) We are going to watch Brave, and eat chocolate and popcorn and snuggle with Jackson, the main man in our lives.

I hope that someday, maybe sooner rather than later, there will be a man friend to watch Disney movies with us and snuggle too. I'm also totally ok with the fact that right now it is just us girls.

To switch gears, I thought I would do a different take on the "Why we Work" trend it posts.

I'm going to tell you why JJ and I work...now.

21 year old Whitney and 22 year old JJ

I know it's weird. My ex and I get along pretty well for the most part. I remember going to marriage counseling once, and the counselor being SO confused.

"Why are you here? You guys seem to get along great!"

We do. When the three of us hang out, grab dinner, or see a movie the dynamic is great.

We don't hate each other. We don't scream and argue. We don't use our kid as a weapon. We genuinely enjoy each other.

Back when we were all babies...

The issues in our marriage were there. They were big. They were ultimately insurmountable. We got married too young. We didn't have the same goals, and visions for our lives, we were, to put it simply, a mess. Under all the mess, and hurt, and betrayal though, we loved each other and created a really beautiful little girl out of the mess.

Boomer's Dedication

Now that we've taken ourselves out of the marriage equation, we work. We can discuss Boomer, and parent her and be friends. He comes to Christmas and Thanksgiving and Hanukkah. We all went to see Lego Movie last weekend. He drove me to the store when I had a migraine. He's not perfect. I'm not perfect. But we work.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

This Is My Current Single Status

My declaration of independence...

If you're singing along with the Natasha Bedingfield song in your head right now, give yourself a cookie. No really. Go get a cookie! It's ok. I'll wait.




Alright now that that is out of the way...

I've been single now for the longest stretch of time since I was 12. Basically since I discovered boys don't have cooties. I'm what my friends like to refer to as a serial monogamist. I don't think this description is entirely accurate considering I didn't start sleeping with boys until JJ, but its true I have in the past gone from relationship to relationship with barely a breather. I also have a habit of recycling ex-boyfriends, or dating people that I've known FOREVER. They weren't all serious relationships. I mean how serious can you really be at 12? Nonetheless I have always had a boy on my arm, one waiting in the wings, and a follow up prospect to him too. I was a shameless flirt all through high school, but all the boys knew it was a game. You could look, but you couldn't touch.

 The idea of being forever alone was terrifying a year ago. I moved out on my own in October of 2012, and went into a bit of a 'thing' with an old friend. It was silly and pointless and going no where despite our 'feelings' for each other. That January I met a nice guy at a friends party and we went out a few times. We were watching TV one night when it hit me. I didn't really want this. I wasn't ready to date. I didn't want to get to know anyone when I barely knew myself.

That's right. 27 years old. A degree, a career, a child, and no flipping clue who I was. That's scary. Frightening. I'm supposed to be raising a child, helping her to figure out her way in life, but I don't know my own? My mother had told me for years, 'stop hopping from relationship to relationship. Slow down. Take some time to get to know you!' I dismissed her. She was my mom. She didn't know what she was talking about and just wanted to run  my life. I finally realized she had just been trying to help me. In all that man hopping I hadn't found love or security. I'd found a lot of trouble. The older boy who was just trying to get one thing. The emotionally abusive boy, who convinced me I was a crazy pill head. The bad boy that I could save. The elusive boy I could chase. The perfect boy I could be a trophy for. The project. The rebel. The saint.

I'll be the first to admit, I have some Daddy/abandonment issues. I remember relaying the following to a therapist once:

My birth father gave me up for adoption. My adopted father left the marriage. My grandfather died. Then my uncle disowned me instead of dealing with the pain of his loss. I've been abandoned by every man that was supposed to stick by me and support me.

She was ridiculously impressed with my self awareness. I wish I'd known about this gif then.

I spent the last 12 months getting to know Whitney. Really getting to know her. Enjoying the quiet and the solitude. Enjoying the underwear dance parties with Boomer. Enjoying answering to no one, but God. Learning that I like classic movies, and documentaries. That I actually can't stand a lot of shows that I spent hours of my life watching so I could have something to talk about with some guy. I actually don't like boy shorts, especially one's with seems up the front (atomic wedgies anyone?) and threw out every pair I'd bought to make a guy happy. I like my hair wild and crazy. I like it straight too, but it's my hair not to be tamed and cajoled to make another person more comfortable. I like wearing too much makeup sometimes. I like wearing heels even though they make me 6ft tall. I like singing in the shower, and the car, and the kitchen, and pretty much every where else. I like being goofy and silly. I like spending hours looking at expensive shit I can't afford. Yet. I like thinking deeply. I like reading books quietly to myself. I like my face. I like my body. I like my spirit. I like my temper. I like my heart. I LIKE EVERYTHING ABOUT ME.

The funny thing is now that I've learned all this, I'm not sure I want to share it with anyone. I'm not sure I want to lay it all out there for someone to say 'Yes! I like you!'...or "Nah...not my thing.' There is a part of my that wants to cook for someone, to get dressed up and be on someone's arm, to share my life again...

But there's no rush.