The heart {pizza} of matters.
February 15, 2013

tumblr_m9ym057Sa51qfd5v6o1_500I can still remember my first Valentine.

I was in first grade, and a boy in my class, named Dustin, gave me a small, white teddy bear with a red bow tied around his neck. At 6 years old, this was a lavish gift among the ritual of passing out store-bought cards with flat suckers.

I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what it meant. I certainly didn’t want Dustin to be my boyfriend (whatever that means in first grade).

I can remember Valentine’s Days at school in the years after, carefully choosing cards for each classmate, making sure none of them were too flirty. Didn’t want to risk someone thinking the pre-made cards were from my heart.

As I got older, Valentine’s Day had some weight to it.

In college, I told my fellow students to take Valentine’s Day like a man, in the inches of my weekly relationship column:

“It is the lonesome man who looks above this dreaded day and treats it just like any other. He doesn’t wear black, cry, eat chocolate or hate himself.”

I tried to take my own advice, and joined some girlfriends at a martini bar. I remember wearing a silky shirt that was printed with green and blue hearts.

That night, I watched as the bartender poured a long row of Patron shots. Little did I know that the very bartender would be in my life years later, and we too, would share a few Valentine’s Days.

But before that could happen, I was on the tail of a bad relationship. It was a constant back and forth that wasn’t healthy. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, I got stood up, and finally I was free.

And then, I fell in love with that bartender. While there were good times, the bad weighed heavier. For Valentine’s Day, all I wanted was to see him. I fantasized about it—I wanted to order one of those “Heart Baker” pizzas from Papa Murphy’s, sip on beer, and sit with my guy.

But he didn’t want that.

Instead of pizza and beer, I sat alone that night, eating the red velvet cupcakes I baked for him.

It wasn’t one of my prouder moments.

Truthfully, I’ve never tried to put too much pressure on February 14. I know it’s a bit of a silly holiday; I want a relationship where we constantly show our love for each other, not just one day.

But terrible Heart’s Days aside, this year I really wanted to give myself a break. My stock on bad dates is currently up, and I needed a little cheering up. So I looked back on the 2-14s of my past.

I never did get that pizza.

So, I drove across the street to Papa Murphy’s, marched in a told the gentleman I wanted “the heart pizza.” A mere $6.30 later, I drove home with a fresh pepperoni pizza, shaped like a heart.

Because I deserve it…along with a bottle of wine.

My journey to the heart (pizza) hasn’t been an easy one, and it’s certainly not over, but every now and then I need a reminder that the journey (and the pizza) is all mine.

DDM
February 11, 2013

I was the proud owner of a dashboard decision maker

At least that’s what we called it

I found it at the bottom

Of a Lucky Charms box

 

It was made of clear plastic

A bubble revealing a die inside

Six sides that held our fate

 

Yes, no, maybe so

 

I shoved it in my pocket

And We hit the streets,

The way we always did

 

No plans

Just us

 

3 blocks from my house

I revealed the plastic toy

 

A stick of gum later

And it was on the jeep dashboard

Like a cheap Garmin

 

Hey, DDM, we’re at a red light

Should we turn left

 

Pop

 

Yes! And left we went

 

Our guide drove us through

The city

A city we had memorized

After years of riding in backseats

Carpooling through the suburbs

Gazing beyond the trees wondering

What was outside of our bubble?

 

Our version of Google maps

Lead us to our favorite place

Where rules didn’t apply

 

We ditched our shoes

Letting our toes feel the earth

 

Countless nights welcomed us

There

To the marina

A lake serving

As the backyard

To mansions we would never know

 

We sipped alcohol

From our parents homes

Smoked flavored cigars

And swam to the floating dock

With a single fear of

creatures

in the water

 

It was a place to see the stars

A place

Only found beyond the maze of

Paved country roads

 

But Somewhere along the route

I lost the guide we had that night

 

Since then, the tires of

The jeep have covered

Enough miles for the Guinness book

The marina sands

Have turned themselves

Bearing witness to

Rites of passage

Adventure-seeking souls

Looking for answers

In the night skies

Worthy of a Tom petty song

 

I can’t help but wonder

Where that dashboard decision maker

Might’ve taken me

If I hadn’t lost it

If I hadn’t lost

You

Single by choice.
October 21, 2012

One of the best parts of my job as a journalist is meeting so many different, and interesting, people. With each interview I conduct, I’m reminded of the motto I live by: Everyone has a story to tell.

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of sitting down with a local gentleman who was nominated by his college classmate for Cosmopolitan’s Hottest Bachelor competition. To be honest, I expected our meeting to be quick. I assumed he would be a conceited jerk.

Boy was I wrong.

Ryan turned out to be kind and genuine; he was honored by the outpouring of support he’d received because of the contest. I was shocked that this successful, handsome man was indeed single.

For my article, I had to ask him the million dollar question: Why are you single?

The answer he gave me was priceless.

“In a backward way, I think not looking provides an opportunity to meet someone. If you’re always looking, you’re willing to settle.”

Story aside, it was the answer I’ve been waiting for.

As a single person, being asked why you’re single is tough. It’s not really a compliment when someone says, “Wow, you’ve really got a lot going for you, so…why are you single?” It passively implies that something is wrong with you, but since it’s not physical or resume-builders, it clearly means you’re crazy.

I’d never had a good answer to that question—until Ryan gave me one.

I’m single because I’m waiting for the one. I’m waiting for that romance I’ve dreamed of.

It’s good to know I’m not alone in my thinking.

So, as much as I loved meeting Ryan to share his story, I was also thankful because I learned a little something about myself, too. In return, Ryan got what he deserved two weeks later—he won the Hottest Bachelor contest.

Refusing to settle? Now that’s hot.

Read the rest of Ryan’s story here.

22 photos.
September 25, 2012

I saw this story on the news the other morning, “A love story in 22 photos”—a story that had gone viral. I had to see it for myself.

The story, told in only 22 pictures and no words, is a love story of a naval officer and his girlfriend-turned-fiance-turned-wife. The pictures say it all; go see it for yourself:

A Love Story in 22 Photos

When You Just Know…
August 10, 2012

I’ve never claimed to be psychic, and sometimes I’m not certain I believe in the ability to predict the future. However, during the summer before my junior year of high school, a girlfriend of mine, Julie, wanted to have her palm read. As I’m usually up for anything, I went along with her.

The psychic was off the main road in downtown Columbus, Indiana. Her “office” was the living room of her home, and when we knocked on her front door she was watching a rousing episode of Full House.

We each paid for a palm reading, half the price of a tarot card session—I’m too scared I’ll get the death card—and Julie went first. I can’t recall what she told Julie, but I will never forget what she told me.

I told her my birthday as she felt my right hand on both sides, touching the lines and the bones. She told me my parents would get a divorce. She also told me that she knew I was struggling between two career paths.

I was, part of me wanted to continue with dance and be a choreographer, while the other part of me wanted to write, and go wherever that would take me. She told me to go with dance.

Finally, she told me that I had a soul mate. He was blonde, tall, and tan. He also had the initials J, C, S, in any order.

We left the old house and analyzed what we heard. My parents weren’t getting a divorce, so I didn’t know how much thought I should invest in the career suggestion or my supposed soul mate. Nonetheless, it was nice to think about a tall, tan, blonde guy waiting for me somewhere in the world.

About a month later, my dad moved out.

While I don’t think a psychic can map out all of the details of our futures, all of us have that gut feeling when something is or isn’t right. Several times in the past, I’ve ignored that feeling, and I always regret it. As I get older, I’ve learned to listen to those feelings and go with my instincts. The outcome is always better.

When it comes to dating, listening to your gut is especially important. I’d venture to say 95% of my dating problems have occurred because I’ve ignored those feelings. In the beginning of a relationship, when everything is fun and exciting, maybe my new guy will do something that seems off, and doesn’t quite fit.

I used to ignore those signs, and say, “Oh, it’s not that big of a deal,” when really, it is a huge deal, and it becomes a massive problem days, months, or even years down the line.

I’m not talking about the way he holds his knife at a nice restaurant or his habit of telling corny jokes, I’m talking about flirting with the waitress (or every woman in sight), doing a bump of cocaine, cheating on his ex with you, etc. The stuff that should be taken seriously, but sometimes it isn’t because you just want things to work.

When my ex of three years tried to dump me via email and phone call, I knew the bad news was coming. However, I demanded he respect me and say it to my face. The fact that I even had to ask for respect while he dumped me is a problem in itself.

Although his prepared speech was about how he just wasn’t feeling it anymore, I knew he had been cheating on me and was dumping me to be with someone else. Suddenly, visions of times I’d ignored popped into my head—him talking about her at dinner, him buying wine for her at the grocery—I don’t know why I hadn’t connected the dots sooner.

I told him this and of course, he denied it. I said, “Oh, how convenient that you’re breaking up with me just in time for the weekend,” and he also denied that having anything to do with it. But I knew the truth. I ripped my house key from his grip and pointed to my front door.

“I hope you’ll answer when I call,” he said.

I shut the door in his face.

Although the breakup was completely necessary, I had a rough time. Friends from all over, even from high school reached out to send me kind messages and share their stories of breakups and love gone wrong with me.

One classmate in particular, Ashley, had several stories for me, and they all comforted me in different ways. She sent me an email one morning after she woke up from a dream (or perhaps a nightmare) that she was marrying her ex boyfriend, and the night before their wedding, he called to tell her he couldn’t do it. She was calling him an hour before the wedding, he wouldn’t answer his phone, and that’s when she woke up.

“I thought my world was coming to an end when my ex broke up with me,” she told me the next day. “I can still remember how it went. He sat down and asked me to come sit by him, because we needed to talk. I knew this wasn’t going to be a good talk.

In that moment, I knew two things: 1., I knew he was breaking up with me, and 2. I knew why he was breaking up with me.

I sat down and looked into his eyes and said, ‘It’s Nikki isn’t it?’ He said no right away, but a woman just knows these things. That’s when the waterworks started, and they weren’t mine.

I didn’t want to be near him. I think I could have beaten him half to death, and I think he would have let me. The guilt he felt still haunts him today. I know because he and I were friends long before we dated, and now the man can’t even look at me.”

One of my best friends, Sheena, has such a strong gut feeling, sometimes it has lead her to the wildest dating stories I’ve ever heard, much less imagined.

Around the time I was with my destructive, cheating ex, Sheena was dating this guy Jeff. Some of the things she told me about him set my radar off, but as her friend I wanted to support her when she was happy, and just be there for her when she needed it.

The beginning of their relationship seemed normal enough, although one night she caught him doing cocaine, which she didn’t approve of. When she confronted him about it, he said he only did it twice a year. She accepted that and moved on.

As you’d expect, he did it more than that, and it just got swept under the rug. However, he was really into partying hard, and Sheena really isn’t. Sometimes, he’d go out without her, drink himself stupid, and ignore her attempts to find him. One night, Sheena called me in a frenzy, and she was driving around her college town looking for his car. She had this feeling he was with his classmate, Amy.

“They’d been in the same Italian class for two or three years, were from the same area, and they were friends,” she told me. “She would come over sometimes while I was at his place, drop off notes, or they would study together. He even took me by her house one night because he had to drop off the Italian textbook they shared, and then we carried on with our evening.”

The night Sheena called me was a month after all of this. Jeff had gathered a group of his friends, and Sheena, to see a movie that was coming out at midnight. However, Sheena wasn’t feeling well, so she went home for the night around 6 pm, telling Jeff to call her later.

“We really didn’t talk the whole night, which was strange,” she said. “I called him around 11, before he was leaving for the movie and he was really weird on the phone. He was very short with me and not acting like he was talking to his girlfriend, which gave me a bad feeling.

So I stayed up until 2:30 or 3 a.m., when I thought the movie would be out and I called him 3 or 4 times throughout the next 30-45 minutes and no no answer. Then, I had my roommate and his roommate call, and they got no answer either.

Since he lived across the street, all I had to do was walk over there to see he wasn’t home and somehow, I just knew he was at that girl’s place. So, I got in my car and drove over there and sure enough, there sat his car in her driveway.

To make sure he actually stayed there, I got up at 8 the next morning and drove by again, and his car was still there. I drove by again at 10:30 and it was still there. Of course, when I asked him what he did, and why he didn’t go home, he lied and said he stayed at his friend Jeremy’s. When I told him I knew he stayed at the girl’s place, he hung up on me and didn’t talk to me for three days.”

At that point, Sheena and Jeff had been dating for three months.

“So awful,” she said. “I should’ve dropped his ass then.”

Unfortunately, Sheena’s gut instinct had to kick in a few more times before she dropped Jeff for good. Several months later, I got a call from Sheena as she was making an early morning investigative trip to Jeff’s house.

“We had gotten in an argument the day before because I was going to Indianapolis to have dinner with my mom and sister, and he never came to my family shit, but I always went to his, so we were pissed at each other, but made up before I left town.

I was weary to leave because he was a bastard and I figured he’d go out and get super drunk and do something stupid.

He was replying to some texts but they were weird and when I called him, I could tell he was really fucked up and he was just like, ‘Come to this bar,’ (knowing I wasn’t in town) and it was around 1:30 or 2 a.m.

Then after that whenever I called and texted him after the bars closed he didn’t respond., which to me was an indication he was with another girl or otherwise he would’ve picked up.”

Sheena called me the next morning, driving from Indianapolis to West Lafayette, on a mission to catch Jeff cheating.

“So, I walked in his front door and saw high heels sitting outside of his room.

I could’ve walked away then fully knowing he had a girl in his room, but I still wanted to see it for myself. So, I walked in his room and his eyes shot open and I walked around the bed so that I could see the girl in front of me, threw up my hands, and walked out.

He said nothing.”

Although Sheena didn’t trust Jeff after that, she gave him one final chance. I can’t blame her, because I did the same thing with my ex. But one event finally happened that broke the camel’s back.

“We were hanging out in the afternoon and he was texting this girl from his hometown that went to college with us that I was also friends with. I think they had a class together or something.

He told me they were texting about the class. I had to go to work in Indianapolis that night, so I was about to leave and wouldn’t be back until like 10 pm, it was probably like 4 pm at this point.

So, I leave and text him a few times while I’m there and when I get back he’s not answering my calls or texts, so I go over to his house. One of his friends was sitting on his front porch waiting for his roommate and I asked him if he had seen Jeff and he said no, so I left.

So I went home and stewed about it. This was when we were on the same cell plan, so I went home and logged on and saw that he had been texting this girl the whole time I was gone and at around 8 pm their texts stopped.

I continued to call and text him throughout the night and got no response. Finally around midnight, I told him if he didn’t respond I was calling his parents because I was worried something happened to him. He responded that he was fine.

That was when I knew he was with another girl. The next day, I called him and he was playing video games with someone, so he was very short, I said, ‘I know you were with Ally last night’ (at this point, I didn’t know they had gone out to dinner) he didn’t deny it, and told me he’d have to call me back later.

An hour after that, I got on Facebook and saw that he took our relationship down. I later found out that this was because he lied to the girl and told her we were already broken up.

He never gave me an explanation or told me what happened, but of course this girl had a big mouth and told all of my friends that he took her to this super nice, expensive sushi place and got bottles of wine, and then they went over to the guy’s house who was sitting on Jeff’s front porch waiting for his roommate for a bon fire and beers, and then like a week later one of the girl’s roommates told me she walked in ally’s room in the morning and Jeff was naked in her bed.”

Sheena hasn’t talked to Jeff since.

Although your intuition might not lead you to something as wild as what I and my friends came to find, but it’s important not to ignore the feelings. There’s a reason you don’t feel right about something. Or, perhaps you have a feeling that something is just so right. After all, they say when you know it’s the one, you just know.

Guy code?
May 2, 2012

A few days ago, I was chatting with a girlfriend on Facebook when a random guy popped up in the chat box with a “Hey!”

This guy is the friend of someone I dated around three years ago. Me and his friend broke up because he was mean, argumentative, and a drug addict. Over the course of our (short) relationship, I did meet some of his friends, including Mr. Chat.

I said hello back, not knowing what was really going on there, and the conversation quickly spiraled into a direction I didn’t intend. Yeah, I know, I probably shouldn’t have talked to him if I wasn’t interested, right?

Before I knew it, Mr. Chat was asking me if I still talked to the ex, how long we dated, and if it was okay that we talked on Facebook. Just as I was clicking the tiny “X” on the chat box, he said, “Well cutie, better go. Would you be up for grabbing some coffee, tea, or dinner sometime?”

Really?

There is a girl code, that we will never date, hookup, sleep with, etc, any guy that our girlfriends have been with, or even liked. Why don’t guys have that same code?

Considering the reason that I broke up with Mr. Chat’s friend (drugs), I don’t plan on putting myself back in that circle, ever. So there’s problem #1. There’s also the fact that I don’t know him, don’t have an interest in knowing him, and also the fact that he lives in another state.

So no, I’m not up for coffee, tea, dinner, hell, I’m not up for anything that involves you. Not even a Facebook chat.

And yes, I deleted him.

 

The silence.
April 18, 2012

About a year ago, a former coworker of mine said he was coming in town for a weekend and thought we should see a movie together. I agreed, and was looking forward to catching up with an old friend.

When the weekend neared, he asked me if I wanted to grab dinner before the flick. I said sure; as I’m always up for a good meal. Over dinner, we talked about work, how things had changed (or hadn’t) and he asked me about my dating life. I joked and said I didn’t have one, and we were off to the movie.

During the movie, he asked to hold my hand.

Things were turning in a direction I hadn’t intended and I didn’t know how to get out of it. He had driven us to the theatre—I was stuck.

After the movie, we drove to a bar to meet another coworker. I was looking for an out. The coworker, however, didn’t help my situation as he suggested the visitor stay at my apartment instead of his. I went to the restroom and just hoped the night would end.

As my former friend drove me home, he asked if he could crash at my apartment. I hesitated, and told him I was very tired, but he was welcome to my couch.

Once we got to my apartment, he refused the couch saying, “You’re not allowed to go to bed unless I go with you.” We had reached scary status and I didn’t like it one bit.

Since then, the coworker has continued to contact me, despite my efforts to ignore him. His calls, emails, instant messages, and texts all go unanswered. I’ve gotten the cold shoulder before, and I know it’s not the best way to push someone away, however I don’t think this guy deserves any type of respectful explanation.

I just hope my silence starts speaking so he’ll leave me alone.

Losing it all.
February 13, 2012

I talk a lot about losing relationships—the romantic ones—and how difficult they are to move past.

This weekend, I lost three friendships faster than I could ever imagine.

Losing friendships, I am learning, is part of life. You meet people, they spend time in your life, and perhaps they stay, or maybe they go. These friendships I lost have left me hurting. But I know good things will come in due time.

“Growing up is never easy. You hold on to things that were. You wonder what’s to come. But that night, I think we knew it was time to let go of what had been, and look ahead to what would be. Other days. New days. Days to come. The thing is, we didn’t have to hate each other for getting older. We just had to forgive ourselves… for growing up.” —The Wonder Years

Standing up.
February 11, 2012

Remember when I told you I had been thinking of Valentine’s Days gone by? Well, as I’ve mentioned, they aren’t all ribbons and pearls, or chocolate and roses, perhaps.

But, they aren’t all about me sitting and moping, either. If I think back further, years ago, there was a Valentine’s Day when I actually stood up for myself, and I even laughed about being single on that day. Here is the story:

In early February, Austin told me he was coming to Baton Rouge on behalf of his job. They wanted him to represent their company at the LSU job fair. I thought it was cool that he would be in town, but a previous fight we’d had came to the surface—both times I’d been to Dallas, I paid for the flights by myself, which was fine, but I felt like he needed to visit Baton Rouge on his dime.

He said I was being petty, that he was coming in town to see me—but in reality, he was getting a free trip and he was coming in town to represent his job. Regardless, he asked if he could stay with me and I said it was okay. I was still bartending and had to work happy hour the day he flew in town. He made plans to meet me at the bar at 7p.m., and have a few drinks before I got off work.

That morning, I wasn’t excited to see Austin. I was worried I had made the wrong decision in agreeing to letting him stay at my house. I’d already slept with someone new, who I really liked, and I didn’t want to mess that up. I didn’t even know if I wanted to see Austin at all.

But I kept my word, decided to face my demons, and go to work. Before I knew it, 8 o’clock rolled around and no word from Austin. He was an hour late. I still had one more hour of work left, so I kept at it.

But my mind started buzzing and before I knew it, my blood was boiling. This was a perfect example of everything our relationship had been since it’s beginning. Everything was always on Austin’s watch, no matter what. I was done. I was sick of being treated like shit, being second best to everything. I stared at the door, praying he wouldn’t arrive. When happy hour ended, I counted my drawer as fast as I could.

“On my way, don’t leave,” he texted.

Two hours late, and that’s what he had to say? I grabbed my purse, my coat, and ran to my car, hopped inside and sped home like a bat out of hell. He didn’t know where I lived, so once I pulled onto my street, I breathed a sigh of relief. I got inside my apartment, locked the doors, and sat in my bed laughing my ass off.

It was the greatest moment I’d felt in all of dating breakups. I’d finally felt the light switch. Austin called and texted me all night, to which I didn’t answer or respond. He was at the bar, with his suitcase, and nowhere to stay.

When my friends heard the story, they thought I was a little mean. But I didn’t care. Austin had treated me like shit for years and he finally got what was coming to him. With Austin, nothing I ever said resonated. So I had to show instead of tell. Keeping my mouth shut was the best thing I ever did for that relationship.

Previous heart.
February 9, 2012

I’ve been thinking a lot about Valentine’s Days from years behind me…and it doesn’t look pretty. One in particular, two years ago, hurts me the most. But as I continue to move on as a single woman, learning from these moments is what it’s all about.

So, I want to share with you a piece of the journal entry I wrote two years ago:

Valentine’s Day—how I detest thee. Boyfriend or no boyfriend, you hurt my heart. You make me feel fat, ugly, and lonely. I can’t go out to eat around Valentine’s Day because of the couples, and the wait. I can’t go anywhere without seeing red, and boxes of chocolates, and banners hanging from the lamp posts saying “Holly, you’re still alone on Valentine’s Day!”

There’s never been a February 14 that I’ve actually looked forward to, or enjoyed. And if there has been, my memory has blocked it out due to trauma and/or heavy drinking.

But this year, THIS YEAR! Is the first year I’ve been dating someone on Valentine’s Day and so, I thought my hatred for such a nasty holiday would hide in the shadows. But nope. Still hate it.

I didn’t want to make a big ta-da out of the day or weekend, but I did want to indulge in some chocolate and time with my Valentine. But the dream I had built up in my mind—that we’d eat a heart-shaped pizza from Papa Murphy’s, get schlitzed on beer, and eat a batch of red velvet cupcakes—quickly dissolved when my Valentine went missing.

And so, with a meaningless set of 12 homemade red velvet cupcakes, (I gave them to my coworkers and shoved the rest in my mouth with a game of Chubby Bunny, reminding myself once again why I am a loner each February), I wallowed in my sorrows.

With such a bad case of the lonelies, there was only one remedy: a cheese pizza just for me (notice how often I reference food here) and my very own Will & Grace marathon. What does that say about me that a show about gay men, paired with greasy food (and copious amounts of alcohol) is the only answer to my problems?

I’m certain this is just karma biting me in the ass for telling that soccer mom at Hobby Lobby to eff off—but I still think she deserved it.

I spent my Valentine’s Day hating my life and chatting with fellow girlfriends who hate theirs all the same. I know, I know, that last thing we’re supposed to do is sit at home and mope. Don’t worry—I didn’t sit at home. Instead, I sat in the Wal-Mart Tire & Lube Center for 4 hours after I figured out I needed a set of new tires. I went to the tire center expecting to pay $15 for a fixed flat, but instead paid $400. While I waited, I tried to read and not cry, but instead I was surrounded by crying babies, announcements over the loud-speaker, and a family next to me eating a bucket of fried chicken and bananas.

Naturally, I hung my head in shame. Even at Wal-Mart, I was surrounded with men buying hearts of chocolate and flowers and bears for their ladies. I was simply counting down the minutes until I could sip my first beer of the night.

Have you been through a tough Valentine’s Day? This year, I’m not focusing on who loves, or doesn’t love, me, but rather, who I love!

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