We he stops asking how you are. That’s when you leave.
So, you leave. You pack everything up really tight, because you’ve left before.
You left the boy with the long arms and the fluffy hair in the 7th grade when it was time the gymnasium lights came on, ‘I can’t be your girlfriend”.
You left you were 19 when you saw him kissing another girl across campus and you just never responded to another text he sent.
You left when you were 21 and you realized that his was not a love of passion, nor respect, but one that was convenient, safe and with just enough distance he could live a life separate from you.
You left when you were 23 because you realized that you weren’t supposed to be in his life like that, he wanted a wife and you wanted to be more than that.
You left when you were 24 because you knew no matter who he was when you were alone, that type of disregard and halfheartedness in public wasn’t for you.
You left when you were 26 because you weren’t a balm, or medicine for his manic depression and knowing that you can’t fix someone by loving them.
You left at 28 because what else was there to do it’s been a week and he’s not the man you first met. He’s not. And so, you accept it. Sure, you could hem and haw. You could get angry, you could get sad. But really, you just feel a vast sense of disappointment and perseverance in yourself, that you believed that maybe, just maybe this one was different but life is life and what is it without growth. So, when it feels right you will delete his number, unfollow him. Let him slip out of your life just as he slipped in.
When you leave, it’s like moving. If you do it right the first time, package everything up you care about, leave/donate/sell what you don’t, it becomes easier over time. You know your worth. You know your value, so you take that, put it where it belongs and it all fits together like a good game of Tetris, and then your gone.
Do you have any online dating tips?
Hi, first gird your loins and good luck.
Okay, so let’s see where to start. Okay! Be honest. Don’t overshare. Don’t put up with bullshit. Be safe. Use google/facebook/twitter to check him out. You can tell a lot about someone by what they share and how they portray themselves online. Tell a friend when and where you’re going to be meeting the person, go to a place you feel comfortable… umm. hm.
Hell, what am I saying. I deleted all my dating apps and have unsubscribed from receiving any updates from OkCupid, and cancelled that stint I did on Match.com for a month.
I've been seeing a guy for two months and it's been very intense but good, but it has been an open relationship since he started seeing two people at once. Now the time has come to reevaluate the situation. It's on him. How long should I wait?
ASKED BY ANONYMOUS
Have you told him what you’re telling me? That is the first thing I always ask when I get relationship questions. Your communication with him should be open, especially if you’re ready to commit. If he already knows that you want more, give him a week. If he says he can’t answer you, or that he doesn’t know. Well, then I’d say get out. Give yourself a day, but be open and honest about what you need and what you can give.
Good luck!
What are your thoughts on finding your one soul mate? Do you believe in that?
ASKED BY ANONYMOUS
I’ve gotten more and more pessimistic about soul mates, specifically because I hit my stride in my mid 20s I’m being more and more disappointed by people. Mind you, not just men who I could be romantic with, people.
So, I have to take a deep breath and realize I’m young. That going through some rough patches happen. That I’m barely formed as an individual, the paint is still drying, things get messy.
I also look at my mentors, my friend Janna is 15 years older than me and just in the last 5 years met her fiancé and had her son. My parent’s met when my dad was in his 30′s, and my mom was a single mother in her 20s with my half brother. Some of my extended family has married and now are divorced.
Nothing happens like a movie. I’m not going to go bump into my soulmate while picking up organic goodies at a farmer’s market. I’m not going to be wearing a pretty outfit with perfect hair. We’re not going to look like a RRL ad, or a spread out of The Selby.
But deep down, I believe that there’s a someone out there that will make me happy, and I make them happy. Maybe for a year, maybe for 4, maybe for 40. Maybe we’ll live in the country, maybe the city. Maybe we’ll break up and reconnect in 10 years. Who knows.
I definitely don’t know. I plan for 3 month in advance. Nothing more, because I barely know where I’ll have to be in an hour, much less a year.
For now I’m looking for someone who likes what I like and wants to challenge me to be more adventurous. Someone willing to grow, even though growth is uncomfortable. Someone who takes my hand in partnership, support, love and passion. Someone who’s ready for that next step in life, because I sure as hell am.
Want to share your story? Want a place to talk, or to maybe get some answers from an unbiased source?
I want a handsome man with beautiful lips to not use them to weave empty promises. I want partnership, at no cost to the love I have for myself. I want to be rid of all the people that don’t apologize.
A sincere apology is a balm on a festering wound.
Actions speaks louder than words.
Lies are the easiest things to tell, but the worst to maintain.
I want rolling hills in the views from my kitchen windows. I want to tell your story. I want to tell your cousin’s neighbor’s high school sweetheart’s story. I want you to live in my writing, in the spaces I create. I want you to feel engulfed. I want to burn you up, and calm you down.
I want to feel strong in my body. A strength that comes from my hard work. From my growth. I want to feel firm under the achingly soft. Not just the soft and the ache.
I want to stop the doubt. I sit here, half torn apart. Sleep deprived. Scared. Hopeful. Resigned.
I am a patchwork quilt of my best and worst intentions. Of my sacrifices, of my sins. Of my glory and pride. Of all the things that make me singular.
We are all singular in the fabric of our souls, but we are bound by our similarities.
I believe in you. I trust you. I’m here for you.
I say this first to myself. Silently in my head, then silently moving my mouth, then a whisper. Then say it out loud. Like you’re talking to someone in the same room, a little farther away. Some days it stays a whisper. Some days it ends high pitched, as I sit in my car and cry.
I think one of the safest places to cry is my car. I swear, the intimacy of a car is only rivaled by the intimacy of being in a car while it’s traveling through an automatic car wash. Play a song the next time you’re at it. Alone or with someone else. Tell the person next to you.
I believe in you. I trust you. I’m here for you.
We don’t believe in others enough. We don’t trust one another anymore. We abso-fucking-lutely only show up when it benefits ourselves.
I believe in you. I trust you. I’m here for you.
I’ll type it to all of you. I’ll yell it at you across the street. I’ll mouth it to you across the room. I’ll send it via voice memo. I’ll say it into your hair as we hug.
I think all we want is someone yelling, saying, whispering, writing it to us. And for us to say it back, meaning filled.