When you wish upon a star

My fellow mystery readers,

I diverge from my usual blog posting style of putting the spotlight on one particular mr. to instead share this piece of very important, and I hope, enlightening advice: go smoke weed AND THEN have sex.

Unless you don't want to know what having sex on top of a shooting star feels like. Then by all means, keep having sober sex.

It is terribly sad that I kept having sex on a bed, carpeted floor, kitchen table, couch, sandy beach, pools, jacuzzis, etc. and not a shooting star for so long- though there was that time in the 2-seater plane. But a plane isn't a shooting star, obvs. This gives a whole new meaning to "when you wish upon a star"- sounds like Mr. Disney knew what he was talking about all along.

Oh, don't worry. I'm gonna wish upon a star, alright.

Il n'y a rien d'autre a faire

You know what really sucks? Being a hopeless romantic and trying to live life as if you aren't.

Sure, sex is great. Sex is fun. Sharing a bed with someone can cure loneliness for some time. But then you have to go home and lay in your own bed, alone. And tell yourself that the person you just shared an intimate moment with is never going to love you. Or that at least you know they certainly don't care to right now.
I'm sure I'm not the only person who goes out, knowing I'll have sex with someone, and tell myself the whole time "it's just sex, it's just sex- don't fall for this guy." And then spend the whole next day replaying things in my head, analyzing the way he touched me, the things he said... surely there must be something about me he likes besides my body. No?

Wouldn't it be nice, to have sex and love, all at once... I would even settle for sex and like.

And the best part is, that even when I'm trying to have someone take me seriously, they go and buy me dinner and sit on the opposite side of the couch and act like complete gentlemen. Then it's like my pants immediately come off, without consent from my mind and heart. I suck at being abstinent, at being that serious, hard-to-get girl guys seem to fall for.

So I guess I'll keep up the late night rendez-vous and I'll keep telling my heart "it's just sex, it's just sex- don't fall for this guy."

Il n'y a rien d'autre a faire.

Mr. Gee

So in my search of love, I have at last found myself in the world of online dating.

"Are you crazy? Do you want do die?," asked one of my friends. While I can't say I'm ready for the afterlife, I am getting tired of living this life alone. Although I do not think that online dating immediately confers on one making a choice between death or everlasting love, if it did, I think I'd risk dying to find it. The more-present-than-ever bitter side of me thinks this is pathetic. But the romantic part of me tells it to shut the hell up and points to my last date as evidence that perhaps online dating isn't so bad, or not nearly as scary and crazy, as some of my girlfriends might think...

As always, I won't call him by name. Except for his last name, because I cannot resist: Gee.

His last name is Gee. Geeeee!!!!

Pimping.

But really, last name aside, this guy was surprisingly nice. There wasn't any weird silences and we both had a pretty laid back attitude when it came to making decisions- "do you want to share the prosciutto arugula salad? The pizza with or without artichoke hearts? " There were no compromises, no rejections- "sure, it sounds good." I like a guy who won't say no to artichokes. And who lets me pick the wine.

After one bottle of wine, we decided... why not have another? Typical.

So we found ourselves a nice, plush booth in a lovely wine bar and downed back another bottle of Malbec. [Rhyming here not intentional]. We laughed, talked about inappropriate things that people on first dates usually don't talk about, and made out like teenagers in his car before saying goodnight.

I know people have rules about certain things- don't talk about politics or religion at the table, don't hook up on the first date, etc, etc... but really, the theme of the night was do what feels right for you at the time.

I don't know whether or not I'll see Mr. Gee again. But it felt right to kiss him on the first date, and it felt right to tell him things about myself I usually don't tell some of my closest friends. He might not be the love of my life, but he was a damn good first date.

So to all current, hopeful and future online daters- courage! There are some crazy people online, but aren't there crazy people everywhere? If you're lucky, you might just meet someone to share some nice conversation with and a delicious bottle of Malbec.

So cheers to that!

Mr. The One

I liked him from the first day I set my eyes on him at a mere 15 years old of age. It felt like a scene from a movie, a really cheesy teen movie, where the girl and guy see each other across a crowded event center and undoubtedly end up falling in love.

I tried to ask my friend about him- who he was, where was he from, was he single? She said she would introduce me. So all of a sudden, I’m standing next to him, staring into his big green eyes, and I never felt so giddy and awkward at the same time. He takes me hand, gives it a light shake, and tells me his name. I answer with “SUP” and follow that up with an assertion that I have to go to the restroom. A disaster.

I’ve become better at these things since then, you might be glad to know.

But at that time, we were together for only a weekend. I lived in a different town, about 4 hours away, and was only briefly passing though his town. We would sit by each other at lunch. He was shy. He would sit down and stare at me when I wasn’t looking. I would ask him all sorts of questions and he would reluctantly answer, then smile. We couldn’t stop smiling.

By the last day of that weekend he still hadn’t asked for my number. So I wrote it down along with my email and screen name (those were the aim days…) and secretly dropped it inside the pocket of his jeans when he wasn’t paying attention. I felt that even if I never did see or speak with him again, at least I did my part in the grand scheme of things.

I heard from him the day after I left. We were both still in high school so we would plan messenger dates online, usually at nine o’clock at night, after we had both done our homework, and we would spend hours chatting. It was so exciting, there was so much to know about each other… and then a few months later I found out that I would be moving to his side of town and would be living only a half-hour away.

A month before I moved, he asked me to be his girlfriend. An E-card with pretty hearts that danced on my computer screen… I replied with a personalized one that simply said YES.

I realize now how hard it was, even in the beginning, to say no to him.

One month, two months, three months went by… every month he’d remember our anniversary- the third. He would always give me something- a flower, a ring, chocolates, a card. I loved that he did that. He treated me so well. It was no wonder we were in love a few months later… I went to his prom, he went to my prom. He threw me birthday parties, I cooked him dinners and went to his soccer games. We’d talk about everything- I’d call him if I had a bad day, he’d tell me when he was upset about something. It was wonderful. I knew I had something special, someone that truly loved me for who I was and who adored me. He used to bring me soup when I was sick and one thing I will never forget- leaving me a flower on my windshield on a random day, which I found just before I left for school.

It was easy to have this vision of us together forever. Getting married, having children… I wanted it all with him.

But then time passed. The 15 year olds we were when we fell in love turned into 18, then 19 year olds. I moved away to attend college and we started a long distance relationship. It was hard to say the least.. I was studying a lot and he was 5 hours away. He sometimes came down twice a month to see me, but it was a sacrifice for both of us- I had to do all my work ahead of time so I’d have time for him on the weekend, and he would drive the long distance to be with me for only one or two days. But still, we made it work somehow. Or at least we did for a while. He would send me roses on our anniversaries still and make all the girls in my dorm jealous. We would talk every night, even if just to say good night. And sometimes we’d plan weekend getaways. When I was with him, I forgot about everything else and I was genuinely happy.

And then, the summer after my first year of college, it was all gone. A sudden call after a few days of him being weird.. .I knew him inside out and it was so easy to tell when there was something wrong with him.

But this time, I didn’t know what was wrong. I couldn’t figure it out.

He told me he was confused- that he didn’t know what he wanted anymore, that he needed a break… so I gave him a few days to think it over, and a few days later, his confusion took over any love that ever existed between us.

Suddenly there was no one to call and say good night to, there were no roses, no visits, no phone calls… But above all, I missed my best friend.

I grieved for a few days. But I was always the kind of girl that said I would never let a guy destroy me. I kept telling myself it wasn’t the end of the world, that I deserved better, and all that other stuff girls tell themselves to make them feel better after a break up. Once I went back to school in the fall, I would sit around with my girlfriends and make lists of all the reasons why he was never good enough for me. We would laugh thinking of things and then they would leave, and I would cry alone. It sounds so emo now. But I was strong. I never called him after he broke up with me, I never wrote him…

By the time Christmas came around, he got in touch with me. It started with just meeting up for dinner to talk… I was reluctant to go because I was finally starting to feel better again without him, but I told myself I would go and listen to what he had to say. You know, let him explain himself.

I gave him a hard time. I showed up business like, a serious expression on my face. I made sure we had the most uncomfortable dinner ever and when he said goodbye and asked if we could be friends, I said I could maybe try. So slowly we started talking again, and by the time February came around, we were back on as a couple.

The next few months were the best.

He was doing everything he used to do that I loved but 10 times better. I could tell he felt bad for giving up on us the way he had, and more than that, I felt that he really appreciated me, more than before.

But that didn’t last long.

This story is so long. There are so many things and issues and factors involved… young love cannot possibly survive without the hard work of two growing beings, and in the end, I was the only willing to fight for us.

He gave up. He gave up on our history, on our love, but the most painful of all, he gave up on me. I never felt more unwanted before.

And it all ended with an email, the day before Valentine’s day. Bullshit excuses of why he didn’t want to put forth the effort to be with me anymore- he was young, he lived in a house with his friends, he wanted to enjoy his youth… but he loved me, and this was the hardest decision he ever had to make.

I felt like it was such a joke for him to tell me he loved me at the end of that email.

After so many years, a breakup through an email? I wasn’t even worth a face-to-face explanation, a pretend last night of passion, nothing. Just lies frozen on a cold computer screen.

I couldn’t believe this was really how it all was going to end. The beautiful story I had of us in my head just came crashing down. Fairytales really didn’t exist. There was no guy who could really ever love anyone as much as I thought he loved me after all…

And still, when it came down to decision time, I would have chosen him. I would do almost anything for him. Not because I was stupid, not because I needed him (I had survived the break up, after all), not because I was afraid to be alone or because I hated being alone- even with him, I had always been independent.

No. I would have chosen him. I would have chosen to keep fighting for our love. Because that’s just what you do when you truly love someone.

But it didn’t matter. Love has to be reciprocated.

I felt my heart breaking. Literally felt the pain of it coming apart. For months I dealt with it, crying myself to sleep for some time, lashing out my anger and disappointment on any other poor soul that was foolish enough to fall in my trap. I tried to pretend I was happy, that I was fine. And I failed miserably at times.

Time went by. And time healed most things, some more than others.

Today I’m finally able to start thinking about dating and being involved in a relationship with someone again, Needless to say, I’m still scared to give my heart away. So many times I don’t let anyone close enough to really get to know me, really get to see me for who I am. This I don’t do in fear that they won’t like what they see, but rather that they will just take advantage of what they find within me.

My heart is big, my love enormous. One person alone can tell you this. Well, outside of my family and very close friends, of course.

Today I’m able to see how the way I think and approach relationships were largely influenced by my experiences with him- some wonderful, some not so great. But that’s the thing about love, isn’t it? To learn about who you are, who you could be, and who you will never be.

I may no longer be in love with him.

But regardless of all the pain he brought me in the past, he was also the reason for many, many smiles.

And for that, I will always love him.

Gia.

Mr. Prince Charming

He was a quarter African American. He was a singer songwriter and an amazing dancer. His voice reminded me of Justin Timberlake, but the soulful J.T., not the pop star.

It is no wonder that we became good friends the moment we met, freshmen year in college. We both lived in the same dormitory. We both had significant others then too.

We used to get together and sing. Freestyle, jazz, whatever. I would listen to his songs and he would critique mine- it was wonderful to meet someone who, at times, felt like the boy version of me.

Two years after we met, we both became single. We found comfort in each other since both our break ups had not been our decision. We used to meet for lunch after class on the days we had Political Science together (we even shared the same major) and eventually I told him I had feelings for him. He cut me off short, saying that he didn’t want to be the rebound boy.

I left it at that. We remained friends and after a year or so, we were both still single. For some unknown reason, we started to hang out more. One night we went out drinking to celebrate my 21^st birthday. We danced together all night, clearing the dance floor of every bar and club we went in- there was no denying our chemistry and our passions were stamped on our faces and it exploded out of our fingertips, hips… During one of our dance numbers, we ended up kissing. And the rest of the night, we kissed a lot.

I saw him in class the next morning and we talked things over- did we have something? Was it just a kiss or should we try to take things further? He was not the kind of guy to kiss someone and pretend nothing ever happened- you see, he was the kind of person that did everything with passion, that thought everything meant something- I loved that about him.

We started dating shortly after. He was the most sensitive and wonderful guy I’ve ever been with. He understood me in ways no one has, mainly because we were so alike. I could talk with him without fear of being judged or misunderstood and he made me want to be a better person, as cheesy as that might sound.

But he was still a virgin.

Not that this bothered me. I appreciated his morals and his decision to save himself for marriage. I myself had tried to do the same thing a few years back (but I failed. Miserably). He used to come over and watch movies and it almost always ended with the movie watching us.

And then one night, in the heat of the moment, Ryan offered to let me give him oral sex- that he was willing to “give me that”.

I almost laughed out loud.

I think I kinda knew then we weren’t going to work out. He was so naïve… The way I had been before I had become so disillusioned with everything. Still, I didn’t want to corrupt him. Or tell him that he was partly living in his head and that his ideals were just that- fictions that didn’t’ actually translate to real life. He deserved better. I wasn’t going to be the one to ruin it for him.

We were together officially for a month. My feelings for him, which were so strong at the beginning, faded away. I couldn’t stand that I had found a perfect guy and had just lost interest. So much for the theory of prince charming…

Prince Charming is perfect. But he’s also boring. And possibly a virgin.

I know for sure he is still singing his little heart out and driving the girls wild. I’m not sure if he’s still a virgin. But something inside of me hopes he is. Or that he found someone worthy to give that gift to.

So here’s to you, my little virgin boy! Thank you for teaching me that as perfect as someone may be, sometimes they are just not perfect for you.

I hope one day you find the one who will only have more and more interest in you as time goes by.

Until then, let’s dance!

Love,

Gia.

Mr. Just-Another-Disappointment

He is not worthy of being written about. Still, I’ll give him, and the others like him, a few lines.

Cowards, jerks, assholes, players- whatever you want to call them. Boys in men’s bodies, little children who try to dabble in the affairs of love. Or something like it.

Girls, we know them well- the guy that appears out of nowhere and promises you the world. I don’t know why I keep falling for it. By now you’d think I’d know better… But at least now I can get over it faster than before.

Still, after it’s all over, I look at it from the retrospect and think to myself: how did I possibly not see this coming? Really, I suppose in the end, I’m the one to blame for being so stupid. For ignoring the signs that were in front of me all along. For wanting to see someone that wasn’t there, for wanting to be to someone else something I never was and never would be.

Sometimes things are just what they seem.

I could write bitter words for pages. For days. But at the end of the day, he’s just another disappointment, just another lie, just another waste of my time and emotions.

I hope you had your fun.

No love,

Gia.

Mr. Rome

I was in Rome for the weekend. I didn’t know his name at first. He offered me a beer. And then he kept buying me drinks. And I kept accepting them.

We walked the streets of Rome, laughing, taking pictures… He was funny, I was charming, and we were both in Rome. Drunk.

And then we had a bonding moment a few hours later by a trashcan.

Classy, I know.

I had been in a relationship for the previous 3 years. I was in a different country, for various reasons, but one of them to run away from my feelings. To forget. To heal.

But that night I felt that I was ready to rebel.

What had love gotten me? Nothing but a broken heart. Why did I keep myself pure for so long to just give it up to someone who broke my heart in the end? I decided then that I was done thinking that love and fairytales and all those other things were actually true. Or that they were at least worth all the effort. I was done trying to be good, trying to find love. I wanted to have fun. I wanted to have a lot of fun.

So I decided I would have my first one nightstand. When in Rome…

On our way to the hotel, he bought me a rose. He invited me in his room and ran us a bubble bath- rose petals, candles and all… I wondered if all one-night stands started this way? This was better than what I had the previous 3 years.

So we fucked. All night. Until eventually one of us passed out.

I woke up and he was still asleep. There was a box of condoms on the bedside table. The sheets were wrapped around half of his body. He was a boxers kinda guy. I didn’t mind.

For the first time I noticed where I really was- this was an incredible room. Spacious with beautiful furniture and big windows with heavy curtains blocking out the sunlight- I pushed them to the side and peeked to see Rome before me. The sun was already up but it was early. The streets were busy, you could see a few vespas zooming by, and in the distance, a sliver of the Coliseum stood out, as if to remind me where I was. That’s right, fucking Rome.

I always imagine I would feel weird after sleeping with someone I barely knew. I used to think sex was something so sacred, so intimate. My theory was that when you had sex with someone, both of your spirits combined and a deeper connection between both people took place.

It’s not that I still didn’t believe that when I woke up that morning in Rome. It’s just that I learned that sex could just be sex- raw and dirty and lustful. That is, if you wanted it to be that way. If you instilled it in your mind that it was all it was. And I could do that. I was great at pretending.

Because certainly that is what you do when you have sex with someone you barely know. You kiss them like you love them, you look into their eyes like you can actually see them, really see them. You hold them, you caress them, you do all the little things you would with someone you love. The only difference is that you don’t actually love them. You don’t even really care about them. You use them for your pleasure, and they use you for theirs.

Still, I had a good time.

Once he woke up, Mr. Rome ordered room service and later walked me out to a taxi. I was going back to Paris that morning.

He kept in touch with me for a long time- calling me long distance when I was still in Paris, texting and emailing me often. We used to talk on the phone, sometimes for a long time. He actually listened to what I had to say. He actually cared.

A few months went by. I had come to see him as a great friend, while he had fallen in love with me. We kept in touch for years after. But he was always trying to whisk me away, to make me his, and I never wanted to belong to him.

One day, not too long ago, actually, I had to tell him that I never thought we could have a relationship.

He disappeared from my life.

Wherever you are, Mr. Rome, I thank you for giving me an experience that I will never forget. You were gentle and kind, too much for your own good, and you treated me like a princess.

I wish I had learned how to love you. I wish it had been that easy. We would have had a good story to tell our kids and grandkids (except for all the drinking we did that night- and we would have to censor the sex part too and maybe change it to a kiss). Someday I still wonder what would’ve happened if I had let you whisk me away… or if I never let you buy me a drink at the bar.

I learned more with you than a lot of other people that have tried to teach me about life. So here’s to you- I hope you find someone with an enormous heart to love and take care of you. You deserve it.

And, of course, thank you for helping me rebel. It was awesome.

Love,

Gia.