first love, y’all.
I was in love once. I would never use the word epic to describe this love in a way that books or movies would, but it felt epic at the time. Two friends realizing they were actually crazy about each other and having the guts to admit it feels pretty epic, doesn’t it? Sure, we made those confessions in a dimly lit bar in downtown Ames and, following the aforementioned confession, promptly filled the awkward silence with our nervous nicotine habits, but that doesn’t make me look back any less fondly on the memory.
When I dropped this man off at his apartment on the night we realized we were going to be together, he said, “I’m going to go upstairs before I do something stupid like invite you up or try to kiss you.”
We shared that blissfully awkward moment until he got out of my car and walked to his apartment. I remember watching him walk up the stairs and, as he approached the door, turning and smiling at me. I had no idea that I would fall in love with that man so easily, without any fear or any concern about what might happen stopping me. I was just living my life in that moment.
I had a movie-worthy first kiss once. I remember driving to the apartment of my first love knowing I wanted to kiss him for the first time. We had been going on dates after our confessions of mutual affection, but we were still delicately transitioning our friendship to something much more beautiful.
I remember sitting in my car nervously contemplating how he might react when I kissed him. These thoughts quickened my heartbeat to the point that I knew I had to act or I would over think it and chicken out altogether. I got out of my car and ran up the stairs to his apartment.
I found him at the top of the stairs and, without words, laid one on him. If you looked coldly at the mechanics of the kiss, I’m sure it wasn’t as beautiful as it felt. But at that moment, we were both relieved of the tension we felt while simultaneously being struck with the anticipation of an exciting new way to appreciate one another. It didn’t just feel right; it felt necessary. If there was ever a moment in my life where I felt like time stopped, it was certainly this moment.
I was heartbroken once. For almost 3 years, I was certain I’d found the one I was supposed to be with for the rest of my life. That 3 years now feels like a life lived long ago. I used to look back at that time and feel only pain. Now, when I think of these memories, I can’t help but smile. Who wouldn’t?
I wanted to write this post because, in the end, after all the time I spent crying on the kitchen floor thinking I’d never feel that way again, I still feel lucky. Nothing can replace the memories of finding your first love, and I certainly wouldn’t want anything to.
Upon the suggestion/demand from my roommate Christine, I created a blog about life as a single lady in Austin. That sounds SO boring, right? Well, it’s more about my ridiculous experiences with dating in general and OKCupid in particular.
Sometimes I talk about dumb things I do when I’m drunk. Sometimes I talk about dumb things I do when I’m sober. Most of the time, however, I talk about awkward and unintentionally hilarious things dudes do when they want to get in my business.
So enjoy, mock, criticize, judge, laugh, hate, [other verb here]. But if you’re looking for posts from me, follow that little blog.
I’m not normally one to buy into the hoopla of New Year’s resolutions. The year may increment, but resolutions just seem to add unnecessary punctuation to the natural flow of my life, so I’ve never been a big fan. BUT, with that opening sentiment, I’m sure you’ve guessed that this year, I’m jumping on the bandwagon and setting some goals to achieve in 2012. So, here they are. My less than exciting and incredibly cliche resolutions for 2012:
A poorly written tribute
My grandfather passed away in May of 2011. I never really talked a lot about it because it affected me, and continues to affect me, more than I care to admit to my friends. My grandpa Zane was always my #1 fan, and always the man who convinced me I could do anything I wanted without saying a word. I played ASA softball from age ~9-14. The competition level, my skill, the games: that’s not what stuck in my mind from those 5 years. I actually remember very few specific plays from that time.
What I do remember? My grandpa. At every. single. game. Sitting in that spot between the dugout and the bleachers. It didn’t matter how well or poorly we were doing: he was always there. And he always had one of those cheesy buttons that had my softball photo from our team photo shoot on it. Even when I chose soccer over softball, he would still come to games that were close to Manson. I still remember the first high school soccer game I played in Fort Dodge (about an hour from Manson, where my grandparents lived): my grandpa sitting between the bleachers and the goal I was guarding at the time, wearing the softball button from my U-12 softball team. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, but he was happy to be there supporting me.
I guess these silly stories might not mean as much if you don’t know other things about his life or specific details about my life with him. But, know this: Zane Meier is a fucking bad ass. And if I ever decide to have a baby (and it’s a boy), his name will be Zane. And I can only hope he’ll be half as bad ass as my Grandpa.
Christmas ‘10, which was regrettably the last Christmas I had with him, held my funniest memory: him sneaking more wine even though my Grandma told him he wasn’t allowed. He just seemed like a kid victorious over some simple 3rd grade teacher when he got a refill, which did nothing but make me smile during what would be one of our last Euchre games together.
I went home last Christmas as a last minute thing, and I’m thankful I did. But I’m also so full of regret. Had I known it was the last time I would see him, I would have said this:
Thank you for being so supportive of my sports.
Thank you for being so supportive of everyone you know.
Thank you for being the best Grandpa any girl could ever know.
Thank you for coming to my soccer games even though you wished I still played softball.
Thank you for loving me so much.
I love you so much.
And thank you for teaching me to enjoy bowling even though I’m terrible at it.
I miss you.
Sorry for such a serious tumblr post, y’all. It’s just been a long time coming.
This boring everyday situation happened to me: I found a comfortable balance of pillows to prop myself up to work on my laptop for a bit while I was home sick. Just when I got comfortable, I realized I needed to reach over and grab my power cord. There was a moment where I stopped and mourned that I had just gotten comfortable, and debated if I could go without power for just a little while longer. I decided that I might as well just get it over with because I could easily get comfortable again. Pretty boring, right?
After I finished readjusting the pillows to get comfortable again, I realized that’s what my life feels like right now. I’m so comfortable with everything about it that I can’t help but wonder if I’m complacent to make any changes to my life because I’m afraid of feeling uncomfortable for even a moment. Or if somehow, by wanting something in my life to change, I’m showing that I’m ungrateful for everything I have.
Right now, I think I’m at the place in my life where I just got comfortable, and I’m putting off moving from this space for as long as I can.
What’s funny is that people who aren’t hipsters generally express distaste for them and those who appear to be hipsters hate to be identified as such. Everybody hates hipsters … especially hipsters. And the ironic part is that hipsters’ opposition to pop culture has become pop culture.”
I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”
— Kurt Vonnegut
I love this video AND this song. Amazing.
Do yourself a favor and go to Barcelona.
And listen to the rest of this song.
Que Sera-Wax Tailor
You are not enough people.
This quote from Kurt Vonnegut popped into my head yesterday, so I thought I’d post the excerpt from his book, A Man Without a Country:
Most of us, if we get married nowadays, are just one more person for the other person. the groom gets one more pal, but it’s a woman. The woman gets one more person to talk to about everything, but it’s a man.
When a couple has an argument nowadays, they may think it’s about money or power or sex or how to raise the kids or whatever. What they’re really saying to each other, though without realizing it, is this: “You are not enough people!”
I’m gonna be honest, here: I have a thing for lists. I love writing them even more than I love reading them (which is a lot). Newest list for me: Top 5 ways you know I’ve given up on life in general.
5. I use LOL! in an Interwebs post in a non-ironic way. I know that makes me sound like a hipster, but eff you. If I post “OMG guys I just got pregnant and the dad is like so cool LOL” you know I gave up.
4. I stop copyediting my posts. Yeah, I’ll make a few typos here in there (it’s the interwebs, it’s supposed to be forgiving), but if I ever write something like “Your the best friend ever way better then the last friend I had who used to like totaly eat to many potatoe chips and than be sad and kill a unikorn” you know I gave up.
3. I post some crappy band like Nickelback’s youtube video with a comment like “LOL this vid is the best. Love these guys that lead singer is SOOOOO hot.”
2. I ever agree with anything that Bill O’Reilly says. Also under this list item, I ever SERIOUSLY post something from Fox News. Mocking posts don’t count.
1. I hate on Arrested Development. Two lists, Arrested Development at number 1 of both lists (Hatin’ on AD is my #1 Dealbreaker). This show completes me, so if I ever write something that implies I think poorly of it, you know that my life is pretty much the worst.
I’m still kind of a betch.