I guess I have pretty much abandoned this blog. I haven't wanted to write in a while because after my last post it was too painful. Basically the beau and I broke up. Well, if only it were that clear-cut. About six months ago, after a painful discussion, he basically stopped talking to me and completely shut me out of his life for several months. As you might imagine, I was distraught--lost 14 pounds in two months (OK, I was glad to lose it, but it's not the healthiest way to diet). Since then we have communicated a little, but I have been getting a lot of mixed messages, from "I'm sorry I cut you out, that was wrong, I'm having trouble coping with life lately" (which makes me think he is having some sort of major depressive event) and wanting to re-establish contact, to again falling off the grid, to only texting me when he needs something and then acting like what happened is no big deal (which makes me think he is just an emotionally immature jerk). He has been dealing with a lot of life challenges, but truth be told, while they are big ones, they are things that pretty much everyone has to face eventually.
I'm not sure it's worth writing in detail everything that happened. Suffice it to say I have pored over it over and over again. It was so bizarre. I still don't have any answers, beyond that in the end it doesn't really matter, because he can't or won't be with me. As Maya Angelou once said (I'm paraphrasing here), when someone shows you who they are, believe them. I'm still mourning my fantasy of what our relationship was--I thought this was IT--and really working hard on moving on and focusing on my life again. I've also realized that I can't communicate with him anymore, because every time he reaches out it's like pulling the scab off again.
In some ways it's been a very interesting and enlightening time, and I suppose I should be grateful. I probably dodged a bullet, and looking back, there were red flags that I didn't heed. I'm trying to figure out why I keep doing this, because I don't ever want to be in this place again. It's not all about men; it's about other aspects in my life as well.
So that's it. In better news, I am looking for a new job and have a very interesting prospect, and I'm off to Mexico by myself next month, to Tulum. I hope to post some pictures after that.
Monday, March 16, 2015
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Cabo San Lucas, Mexico
I haven't posted since September??? Here are a few photos from our recent vacation to keep things somewhat current.
On the beach on front of our resort--literally "land's end" at the tip of the Baja peninsula. Paradise. Also cheap as we were guests of the beau's parents and we barely had to pay for anything. Tradeoff: little privacy. But we managed to sneak away a few times.
Fish tacos at a place we went back to three times. The shrimp ones were actually the best. They were about $1.50 each and you could choose your own fixin's from bowls on the bar. So good. The waiter even ran out to buy Clamato so I could have a michelada.
Do you know how badly I needed this after months of endless icy weather and snow, i.e. the third or possibly second worst winter in Chicago since they started recording these things? SO BADLY. It was great. This was a snorkeling spot we drove to. Lots of friendly and curious fish (I think people feed them, not us), coral, anemones, and I saw a starfish and I think a sea cucumber.
It was whale migration time and we could see them from the resort--luckily the beau had brought binoculars. You look for the spout. I wanted to go on a whale-watching tour, but we waited until the last day and then the water was too choppy and the marina closed.
Seriously, this winter--I consider myself a hardened Chicagoan, but even I was tested. I have caught myself thinking, "Well, where else could I move to?" OK, that's not happening, but the beau's idea of sitting out the winter in Colorado is sounding better and better. It is late March and our high today will be around 48 degrees--it's so grey and the melting snow just turns into dirty black slush that releases piles of trash and uncovers months' worth of dog poop. Lovely.
All that to say, a vacation to somewhere warm in March is a non-negotiable expense. A mental health necessity. Really, I should be able to write it off on my taxes. Speaking of, I'm meeting my accountant tonight. Fingers crossed for another decent return!
Fish tacos at a place we went back to three times. The shrimp ones were actually the best. They were about $1.50 each and you could choose your own fixin's from bowls on the bar. So good. The waiter even ran out to buy Clamato so I could have a michelada.
It was whale migration time and we could see them from the resort--luckily the beau had brought binoculars. You look for the spout. I wanted to go on a whale-watching tour, but we waited until the last day and then the water was too choppy and the marina closed.
Seriously, this winter--I consider myself a hardened Chicagoan, but even I was tested. I have caught myself thinking, "Well, where else could I move to?" OK, that's not happening, but the beau's idea of sitting out the winter in Colorado is sounding better and better. It is late March and our high today will be around 48 degrees--it's so grey and the melting snow just turns into dirty black slush that releases piles of trash and uncovers months' worth of dog poop. Lovely.
All that to say, a vacation to somewhere warm in March is a non-negotiable expense. A mental health necessity. Really, I should be able to write it off on my taxes. Speaking of, I'm meeting my accountant tonight. Fingers crossed for another decent return!
Monday, September 9, 2013
le beau
I don't share a lot of personal information on this blog, mostly because I am a pretty private person, apparently. After all, I started this blog to post pretty photos that capture la dolce vita here in the U.S.
However, just photos of places that are not particularly exotic (Chicago, Wisconsin) are perhaps not incredibly compelling to most. So I thought I would share the story of how my beau and I started going out. It's not really a way to "see Italy," but it does fall under the category of amore, which is molto italiano.
We actually met about 20 years ago, more or less. We're not sure exactly when, but it was not long after I moved back to Chicago in 1993. A lot of my friends were musicians, and the indie-rock scene in Chicago was (still is) pretty tight. There were maybe three or four bars this crowd tended to congregate in--the much-missed Lounge Ax, the Empty Bottle (which had just opened at the time), and the Rainbo Club were the main ones. The beau, S., ran in the same crowd, so we met early on. I think my friend K. probably introduced us. He was hard to miss because of his height, his good looks, and at that time he had long dreadlocks (not a good look on a white guy, but we will chalk it up to his youth--he says he had them because he was "lazy").
So years, we'd run into each other, say hi, maybe have a short conversation. I never really was interested in him. I think this is because he was so tall, oddly enough. I liked tall guys (who doesn't?) but I'd had some bad experiences with other tall guys, so I was unconsciously steering myself away from guys with serious height. That, plus the fact that he had this very confident aura made me assume he would never be interested in me. I was having confidence issues at this time--the people I met were so cool and interesting and doing neat things, and I just thought I was so boring in comparison. I remember people talking to me and me thinking they must be bored, and gently trying to let them know they could go talk to someone else. I must have come off as incredibly standoffish.
During this time, for about five years I went out with someone else, who I hoped (rather than believed) I would marry. Our breakup was the second most traumatic event of my life, and as I discovered through the therapy I started to get over it, this was partly (mostly, really) because the breakup brought up all these feelings of loss and loneliness from my mother's death some 15-16 years before. It was really one of the worst times of my life. Maybe even worse than when my mother died, because I was an adult and I knew I had to rely on myself.
Therapy was a looooong process, but also an interesting one. (Where else do you get to talk about yourself nonstop for an hour?) I discovered lots of destructive patterns of thinking, especially when it came to my relationships. I probably didn't choose the right guys, but then I also had some insane expectations as well. Identifying these patterns was the easy part, it turns out. Changing them is much, much harder.
While I was doing this, I went out with someone else, E., that I knew I definitely didn't want to marry. In three and a half years, we never said "I love you." He is a wonderful person and deserves the best, but I was very clear that I was not in love with him. Was he in love with me? I'm not sure, but I doubt it. Why spend nearly four years circling the runway? All I can say is that it's what I needed at the time.
Because of E. we hung out with even more musicians and people in related professions, so I saw and hung out with S. a little more. I remember always being somewhat surprised when he made a point of talking with me (still having some confidence issues!), and I still didn't think about him romantically at all. This changed a little one night, when we were sitting next to each other at a big table at the Rainbo. E. was on the other side, but he couldn't hear us. We were flirting a little bit, and I said something daring like, "I like tall guys." (I was probably a little tipsy.) He looked at me and said, "And I like short girls." And there was a beat as we smiled at each other. I then changed the subject, but there was a little part of me inside that went, "Aha."
Later S. announced he was moving to Colorado, and that was the last I heard of him for a few years. I actually kind of forgot about him.
There is a lot of backlash against the idea that good thoughts bring good energy and the things that you want in life. But when "I want" comes from fear--when it actually means "I don't want"-- it's negative energy. I was saying, "I want a boyfriend/husband," but actually saying "I don't want to be alone forever." Paradoxically, I had to get OK with being alone forever before I could be with someone else.
And I did get OK with it. I had a revelation one day that my life wasn't so bad. I had friends around me and family that loved me, and a new nephew too. I could deal with that. I was grateful.
And that meant that I was ready to say "I want," not "I don't want." So I said it, very clearly and deliberately, at the beginning of 2011. I said I wanted a man who was
It didn't happen right away. I started going out with someone else. Actually I think this interim step was kind of important. He met the criteria, and I had hopes. But after about six months, when I asked him what we were doing, exactly (you know that conversation), it turned out we weren't in the same place. He was only up for something casual. I wasn't, so I bid him adieu. And I waited to be upset.
I cried a little, but--crucially--I did not feel desperate, like I would be alone for the rest of my life. It had been fun, but the guy wasn't into it, so it wasn't meant to be. Fine. I got back on my horse pretty much right away and started contacting more people on the dating site.
About a month or two after that, a friend invited me to an opening party for some of her photos, which were on display at a boutique. I remember feeling lazy, but I reminded myself that a lot of my friends would be there and socializing was important. So I hopped on my bike and went.
I chatted with some of my friends, admired the photos, ate some food. After a few hours, I was getting ready to go. I remember I was standing in front of a table with all of these perfumes, my back to the room. I wanted to try the perfumes before I left. Finally I turned around to leave and I saw S. standing at the food table. I don't know if he had seen me or not. Even then, I almost left without saying hello. I was kind of tired and had had enough. But--and this is such a cliche, but I swear it happened--a little voice in my head said, "Just go talk to him."
So I did. I wasn't even sure he would even really remember me. I wasn't even sure he knew my name, frankly. But he was very warm and glad to see me, and started telling me about the European trip he had just returned from. I remember that some other woman came over to say hello to him, and I thought about just saying "bye" and slipping out, but again, something made me stay put. The other woman eventually moved on, and after we chatted a little bit, S. said, "Actually I was hoping I'd see you here tonight."
It's not an exaggeration to say I was flabbergasted. I actually opened my eyes wide and blinked at him a couple times. I think my reaction surprised him, because then he got the deer-in-the-headlights look and changed the subject. So finally I said, "Well, we should go for a drink sometime." And he looked relieved and happy, and said, "Yes, I would like that."
Frankly I had to chase him a little bit after that--I think he was a little gun-shy of having a girlfriend after having had some, shall we say, overly emotional ones, from what he's told me. Finally I invited him to a party I was having and decided that if he didn't come, then at least I would know he wasn't really interested. But he did come, by himself--and as a friend of mine said later, that showed a lot of gumption. Suffice it to say he was the last one to leave that party, and we've been dating ever since.
Of course things aren't perfect, but I have discovered that I have become a lot more realistic about relationships. I used to expect so much from men I was in a relationship with, no one human could have satisfied me. I really gave them complete power over my happiness. I also somehow thought they they didn't have problems of their own, that they knew something I didn't about life or had things all figured out. I really put them up on a pedestal. Now I am much more accepting of their flaws and failures (and, probably not coincidentally, with my own).
By letting those things go, I have paved the way for a relationship that makes me deeply happy. I hope it will continue to do so for many--well, all--of the years to come.
However, just photos of places that are not particularly exotic (Chicago, Wisconsin) are perhaps not incredibly compelling to most. So I thought I would share the story of how my beau and I started going out. It's not really a way to "see Italy," but it does fall under the category of amore, which is molto italiano.
We actually met about 20 years ago, more or less. We're not sure exactly when, but it was not long after I moved back to Chicago in 1993. A lot of my friends were musicians, and the indie-rock scene in Chicago was (still is) pretty tight. There were maybe three or four bars this crowd tended to congregate in--the much-missed Lounge Ax, the Empty Bottle (which had just opened at the time), and the Rainbo Club were the main ones. The beau, S., ran in the same crowd, so we met early on. I think my friend K. probably introduced us. He was hard to miss because of his height, his good looks, and at that time he had long dreadlocks (not a good look on a white guy, but we will chalk it up to his youth--he says he had them because he was "lazy").
So years, we'd run into each other, say hi, maybe have a short conversation. I never really was interested in him. I think this is because he was so tall, oddly enough. I liked tall guys (who doesn't?) but I'd had some bad experiences with other tall guys, so I was unconsciously steering myself away from guys with serious height. That, plus the fact that he had this very confident aura made me assume he would never be interested in me. I was having confidence issues at this time--the people I met were so cool and interesting and doing neat things, and I just thought I was so boring in comparison. I remember people talking to me and me thinking they must be bored, and gently trying to let them know they could go talk to someone else. I must have come off as incredibly standoffish.
During this time, for about five years I went out with someone else, who I hoped (rather than believed) I would marry. Our breakup was the second most traumatic event of my life, and as I discovered through the therapy I started to get over it, this was partly (mostly, really) because the breakup brought up all these feelings of loss and loneliness from my mother's death some 15-16 years before. It was really one of the worst times of my life. Maybe even worse than when my mother died, because I was an adult and I knew I had to rely on myself.
Therapy was a looooong process, but also an interesting one. (Where else do you get to talk about yourself nonstop for an hour?) I discovered lots of destructive patterns of thinking, especially when it came to my relationships. I probably didn't choose the right guys, but then I also had some insane expectations as well. Identifying these patterns was the easy part, it turns out. Changing them is much, much harder.
While I was doing this, I went out with someone else, E., that I knew I definitely didn't want to marry. In three and a half years, we never said "I love you." He is a wonderful person and deserves the best, but I was very clear that I was not in love with him. Was he in love with me? I'm not sure, but I doubt it. Why spend nearly four years circling the runway? All I can say is that it's what I needed at the time.
Because of E. we hung out with even more musicians and people in related professions, so I saw and hung out with S. a little more. I remember always being somewhat surprised when he made a point of talking with me (still having some confidence issues!), and I still didn't think about him romantically at all. This changed a little one night, when we were sitting next to each other at a big table at the Rainbo. E. was on the other side, but he couldn't hear us. We were flirting a little bit, and I said something daring like, "I like tall guys." (I was probably a little tipsy.) He looked at me and said, "And I like short girls." And there was a beat as we smiled at each other. I then changed the subject, but there was a little part of me inside that went, "Aha."
Later S. announced he was moving to Colorado, and that was the last I heard of him for a few years. I actually kind of forgot about him.
***
There is a lot of backlash against the idea that good thoughts bring good energy and the things that you want in life. But when "I want" comes from fear--when it actually means "I don't want"-- it's negative energy. I was saying, "I want a boyfriend/husband," but actually saying "I don't want to be alone forever." Paradoxically, I had to get OK with being alone forever before I could be with someone else.
And I did get OK with it. I had a revelation one day that my life wasn't so bad. I had friends around me and family that loved me, and a new nephew too. I could deal with that. I was grateful.
And that meant that I was ready to say "I want," not "I don't want." So I said it, very clearly and deliberately, at the beginning of 2011. I said I wanted a man who was
- kind to me
- funny
- wanted to be in a monogamous relationship
- wasn't completely broke (he didn't have to be rich, but I wanted someone who could match my lifestyle)
- and if he was tall that wouldn't hurt.
It didn't happen right away. I started going out with someone else. Actually I think this interim step was kind of important. He met the criteria, and I had hopes. But after about six months, when I asked him what we were doing, exactly (you know that conversation), it turned out we weren't in the same place. He was only up for something casual. I wasn't, so I bid him adieu. And I waited to be upset.
I cried a little, but--crucially--I did not feel desperate, like I would be alone for the rest of my life. It had been fun, but the guy wasn't into it, so it wasn't meant to be. Fine. I got back on my horse pretty much right away and started contacting more people on the dating site.
About a month or two after that, a friend invited me to an opening party for some of her photos, which were on display at a boutique. I remember feeling lazy, but I reminded myself that a lot of my friends would be there and socializing was important. So I hopped on my bike and went.
I chatted with some of my friends, admired the photos, ate some food. After a few hours, I was getting ready to go. I remember I was standing in front of a table with all of these perfumes, my back to the room. I wanted to try the perfumes before I left. Finally I turned around to leave and I saw S. standing at the food table. I don't know if he had seen me or not. Even then, I almost left without saying hello. I was kind of tired and had had enough. But--and this is such a cliche, but I swear it happened--a little voice in my head said, "Just go talk to him."
So I did. I wasn't even sure he would even really remember me. I wasn't even sure he knew my name, frankly. But he was very warm and glad to see me, and started telling me about the European trip he had just returned from. I remember that some other woman came over to say hello to him, and I thought about just saying "bye" and slipping out, but again, something made me stay put. The other woman eventually moved on, and after we chatted a little bit, S. said, "Actually I was hoping I'd see you here tonight."
It's not an exaggeration to say I was flabbergasted. I actually opened my eyes wide and blinked at him a couple times. I think my reaction surprised him, because then he got the deer-in-the-headlights look and changed the subject. So finally I said, "Well, we should go for a drink sometime." And he looked relieved and happy, and said, "Yes, I would like that."
Frankly I had to chase him a little bit after that--I think he was a little gun-shy of having a girlfriend after having had some, shall we say, overly emotional ones, from what he's told me. Finally I invited him to a party I was having and decided that if he didn't come, then at least I would know he wasn't really interested. But he did come, by himself--and as a friend of mine said later, that showed a lot of gumption. Suffice it to say he was the last one to leave that party, and we've been dating ever since.
Of course things aren't perfect, but I have discovered that I have become a lot more realistic about relationships. I used to expect so much from men I was in a relationship with, no one human could have satisfied me. I really gave them complete power over my happiness. I also somehow thought they they didn't have problems of their own, that they knew something I didn't about life or had things all figured out. I really put them up on a pedestal. Now I am much more accepting of their flaws and failures (and, probably not coincidentally, with my own).
By letting those things go, I have paved the way for a relationship that makes me deeply happy. I hope it will continue to do so for many--well, all--of the years to come.
Monday, August 26, 2013
late summer in the city
Savoring the final days of summer like the last bottle of a favorite wine.
We're off to the cabin this weekend for one last visit this year. A bientot!
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| lunchtime bike ride |
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| apples in the backyard |
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| greedy gulls |
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| the view of the most beautiful skyline in the world from a boat |
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| cupcakes to use up leftover homemade frosting |
Thursday, August 15, 2013
back to the cottage
We went back to the Wisconsin cottage for a few days to celebrate the beau's birthday. He has celebrated 19 out of 20 of his last birthdays there, and I can certainly understand why.
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| Beautiful sunsets. |
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| Frutti di bosco, aka wild blackberries. We ate most of the ripe ones from this bush before I took the photo. |
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| Lookin' pretty good after another year! Happy birthday amore! |
Monday, July 29, 2013
wish you were here
This weekend in Chicago was unusually cool and autumnal. It was actually refreshing after all the heat we've had recently. As long as it goes back to being hot this week! (It will.)
Had a long bike ride along the lake, which looked very blue indeed. I felt a little blue because the beau is out of town, but it is nice to have time to myself. I ate sushi with one friend and Puerto Rican food with another. Went swimming at the pool. Took said bike ride. Relaxed.
Perhaps you didn't know that Chicago has 18 miles of lakefront bike and walking paths. They're there because in 1836 public officials had the foresight to decree that the lakefront remain "forever open, clear, and free." It's an amazing urban resource and one I take advantage of quite a lot. It's one of the things that makes Chicago a wonderful place to live in and makes up for the drawbacks (i.e., high city taxes and insane parking fees, endemic poverty/violence in certain neighborhoods, the winter--OK, let's stick to the positive stuff).
Right now the city is discussing options for revamping Lake Shore Drive, a major road (really a highway) between the lakefront and the city, both to make sure it can handle traffic demands in the future and to make the lakefront even more accessible and user-friendly. I'm not looking forward to the construction involved, but hopefully the end result will be worth it.
I'm arranging a boating outing for the beau's birthday next month so we can go out on that lake. More on that later.
Had a long bike ride along the lake, which looked very blue indeed. I felt a little blue because the beau is out of town, but it is nice to have time to myself. I ate sushi with one friend and Puerto Rican food with another. Went swimming at the pool. Took said bike ride. Relaxed.
Perhaps you didn't know that Chicago has 18 miles of lakefront bike and walking paths. They're there because in 1836 public officials had the foresight to decree that the lakefront remain "forever open, clear, and free." It's an amazing urban resource and one I take advantage of quite a lot. It's one of the things that makes Chicago a wonderful place to live in and makes up for the drawbacks (i.e., high city taxes and insane parking fees, endemic poverty/violence in certain neighborhoods, the winter--OK, let's stick to the positive stuff).
Right now the city is discussing options for revamping Lake Shore Drive, a major road (really a highway) between the lakefront and the city, both to make sure it can handle traffic demands in the future and to make the lakefront even more accessible and user-friendly. I'm not looking forward to the construction involved, but hopefully the end result will be worth it.
I'm arranging a boating outing for the beau's birthday next month so we can go out on that lake. More on that later.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
back to Wisconsin
We went back to the boyfriend's family's cottage in northern Wisconsin for a week. Just us. Perfect weather. It was heavenly--except for the mosquitos, thanks to the cool and wet spring.
With all the green rolling hills, the farms, and the cows, you could almost be in France. Without the wine and good restaurants. Well, there is good food there--beef, pork (mmm bratwurst), beer, etc. We picked up some great sharp cheddar and some New Glarus beer of course, and I made sure to bring some rose' and red wine.
And we managed to see some live wildlife as well. On one bike ride we saw maybe 30 or 35 deer. Maybe they were on their way to a deer party. One wandered into the lot next door and was snorting and stamping at the boyfriend's cat, like a delicate little bull. The cat finally had to concede and walked away.
We also saw a bat (wish we saw more of those, for the insects), hummingbirds, a turtle, a fish that jumped out of the water right in front of our boat, bald eagles, cranes, and wild turkeys. I was not so thrilled to see a snake swimming in the water after I'd spent several blissfully ignorant days swimming in it.
But the big event was me finally getting to see a bear!
We also went even further north to visit the boyfriend's sister and niece at their house on the shores of Lake Superior for a night. It was a completely new area for me. News flash: Lake Superior is extremely cold, like your-bones-will-ache-in-three-seconds cold. I did dip in a couple times just to cool off.
The boyfriend's sister is raising chickens, so that was pretty exciting for this city girl. There were a lot of them, including some chicks that had just hatched.
With all the green rolling hills, the farms, and the cows, you could almost be in France. Without the wine and good restaurants. Well, there is good food there--beef, pork (mmm bratwurst), beer, etc. We picked up some great sharp cheddar and some New Glarus beer of course, and I made sure to bring some rose' and red wine.
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| A most excellent spot for morning coffee. |
There's not much to do except swim, sail, canoe, bike, read, and relax. And cook and eat. It's pretty great.
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| There was a lot of meat eating going on. |
But we did do a little socializing. We got a drink at one of the area bars after a bike ride and admired the many stuffed examples of local wildlife.
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| So many dead things. |
We also saw a bat (wish we saw more of those, for the insects), hummingbirds, a turtle, a fish that jumped out of the water right in front of our boat, bald eagles, cranes, and wild turkeys. I was not so thrilled to see a snake swimming in the water after I'd spent several blissfully ignorant days swimming in it.
But the big event was me finally getting to see a bear!
 |
| He's that black thing in the middle. |
The boyfriend usually sees at least one per trip, but generally early in the morning. I don't care about bears enough to get up at 5:30. But this time he spotted one at the side of the road in the afternoon while we were in the car coming back from somewhere. He quickly turned around and I managed to get a snap while it was lumbering off.
We also went even further north to visit the boyfriend's sister and niece at their house on the shores of Lake Superior for a night. It was a completely new area for me. News flash: Lake Superior is extremely cold, like your-bones-will-ache-in-three-seconds cold. I did dip in a couple times just to cool off.
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| Stopped at a park trail on the way, but I was hardly dressed for serious hiking. |
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| Lake Superior. |
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| This guy ran at me a couple times, defending his women against the interloper. |
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| The coop. |
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| Boyfriend and his sister by the lake. |
For the Fourth of July, we went to Bayfield, a charming little sailing town. We sat on the docks and watched a pretty great fireworks display, and also got to take in the displays from neighboring towns, including one on the nearby Apostle Islands. I love small-town Independence Day celebrations. It was definitely preferable to being in Chicago--my friends on Facebook were reporting the usual Beirut-like mayhem there.
We'll go back to the cottage in August for boyfriend's birthday. It'll only be a long weekend, but I am already looking forward to it! And maybe next year we can actually go to France or Italy. For now, though, I'm very grateful for these Wisconsin vacations.
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