Am I Cursed?

Using my wily online dating skills, I met a guy in December. We hit it off and have been dating ever since. With him, I tried the casual approach – not freaking out when he didn’t text me at 8am sharp, seeing him occasionally and letting the wedding balls start to ring only in the very distant recesses of my brain. It seemed to be working for me, this not in-your-face, “please love me right now” tactic. 

But then last week I asked the question on every girl’s brain when she meets a rad dude: Where do you see this going? I promise you that I was cool and collected when I brought it up, “Just curious if you see this turning into something…someday…ya know, when it gets there.” He shed his usual sarcasm and honestly told me that he did like spending time with me, but that someday he probably wanted to try living somewhere else so it wasn’t in the forefront of his mind to be in a serious, committed relationship.

I appreciate his honesty, but him saying that puts a definite kink in the plan. I don’t date people just to date them – it’s a waste of time – I date people to find out if they’re marriage material. And, yes, I did just clearly state three paragraphs away that I was taking this one casually, but it’s in the back of nearly every single girl’s mind when she meets someone – is he Mr. Right Now or Mr. Forever? I’m 30 years old, I don’t have time to waste on guys who aren’t worth it. I want to be married and have a baby so badly that even when I see pictures of babies, I start to get a bit misty-eyed. 

Since this conversation, the guy has seemed distant. Maybe I’m making things up, but my instincts are kicking in that something is awry. I had a similar feeling with another dude that I met online (there’s a trend, I know) in November and there was instant chemistry. We talked every day, we saw each other often, and I thought all was going swimmingly. So, I bring up the, “Where do you see this going” talk and asked if he thought it was a good idea to just see each other. He agreed – willingly – no water boarding or gun-to-the-head was involved.

When he left after the “talk,” I had a sinking feeling – similar to the one I have right now. I’d done something wrong. Something wasn’t right. But I was. He never again contacted me. Ever. I mean a month of talking constantly turned into cold hard silence. I gave up after three texts and a few fitful nights of sleep.

You’ve heard my two stories, now answer me this: Am I cursed? Or am I an idiot for scaring the living hell out of guys by asking them where they see our future going? Okay, maybe I am an idiot, but I’ve lasted a full month or two months before having the talk (and, by the way, it’s not even the talk of “let me call you my boyfriend” which is much scarier in my mind). I’ve pushed back my every instinct after date 2 to stake my claim, so why can’t guys push back their fear and just be honest?

If guys don’t want to be in a relationship, why do they date at all? Yes, sex and someone to keep them warm on a cold winter’s night, I get that. But, haven’t they learned that most girls have dreams of more than hand-holding next to the heater? And this begs the question: Why don’t they want that, too?

I may never figure out the psyche of a man, so instead of beating my head against the wall every time I get a “Rejected” stamp across my forehead, I’m going to pick up my proverbial boot straps and keep on going.

Important note: As of the publication of this post, I’m still supposed to see my guy today, so it isn’t over yet, but the “something’s up” feeling persists. It ain’t over yet, and let’s hope that my gut is wrong and it was just the Chinese food we ordered on Friday.

I Miss You, Hong Kong!

Chicago in winter is brutal. Negative temperatures, gusty winds regularly, snow falling at any moment, and ice covering every surface. This winter has been especially awful making me wonder why the hell I chose to come here. I had the perfect opportunity at the end of my time in Hong Kong to move anywhere…Seattle, Florida, the Bahamas! This extreme winter has also caused me to reflect on my time in Hong Kong, particularly when I look at my weather app and it touts 70 degrees for HK. I miss Hong Kong. I miss the weather, I miss my friends, I miss traveling, I miss the culture. In fact, there’s really not much I don’t miss. 

Here’s an excerpt from a conversation that I recently had with my friend Shelley that I met in HK: “Do you ever have moments where you really miss Hong Kong?  I think I feel that way right now because of the really cold weather. I just keep getting suddenly sad about missing it. Random things bring it on. Is this what happens after a year and a half or will we always feel this way?”

I know that there will always be a part of my heart in the Kong. I’m getting verklempt just thinking about it. Random occurrences bring on the tear-welling: articles posted on Facebook, Christmas and birthday cards from HK friends, not too long ago I even got choked up reading about the wet markets. If you’ve never been to a fish market, it’s this bloody, smelly mess of a street filled with cow hearts hanging from hooks, whole chickens in windows and fish flopping around. But I had tears in my eyes just reading an article about it. 

It’s not that I truly ever see myself living there again, but Hong Kong is this whole other part of me that I can’t access easily. Sure, I can Skype with friends, Time Out Hong Kong can plaster my Facebook wall, and I can talk all day and all night about my experiences to my new friends in Chicago, but it isn’t the same. I’ll never again be “that girl who lives in Hong Kong,” that anomaly to my friends here in the U.S.

And it’s true that I feel pretty *normal* being in Chicago, I also really, really miss Hong Kong. And it’s sunny winter. Here’s a great idea: I can live in Hong Kong during the winter and Chicago in the summer (Chi is the best in summer!). Now what job can I find where I can get the best of both of my worlds?

Snowy with a Chance of Anxiety

As much as I’d love to have a miniature Roberto to keep in my pocket for snow emergencies, I fully understand that he was a onetime deal. Since my car skidded on the snow a couple of weeks ago causing me to crash (minorly) into the curb, I’ve had a range of anxiety attacks about driving in the snow. This panic is compounded each time I have to park or leave my current parking spot. 

If you haven’t had the divine pleasure of seeing the jerks that save parking spots in Chicago, then check out this site. Except now that I’m parking street-side this winter, I really, really want to be one of those jerks. When trying to leave my spot tonight, I couldn’t get out. My tires simply spun in place. I got out my now broken shovel (thank you pile of snow shit yesterday!) and attempted to remove any big piles. Then a car pulled up, the inhabitants watching me. Nothing happened. I got back in my car and turned off the engine. Guess that means no salsa class tonight!

Yesterday, I patrolled the streets looking for an easy place to park. My heart started thumping in my chest, my palms got damp even before I pulled into my neighborhood. Parking in the snow is giving me a high dose of anxiety. Thoughts of snowy drifts pervaded my dreams last night. For what seemed like hours I pictured crashing into the curb, hitting hunks of snow, and driving for miles looking for easy enough parking. My heart is even beating faster as I write this. 

I need my car for many things, so how do I get over my fear? Do I dig myself out tomorrow and become *that asshole* with folding chairs and baby gates? Do I practice hopping snow drifts until I no longer fear them? For now, I’m going to lay on the couch, day dreaming of kicking winter’s ass and being a pro at parking over snow humps. 

Guardian Snow Angel

Today I met my guardian snow angel. His name is Roberto.

For days on end it snowed, and it snowed, and it snowed in Chicago. Then the Polar Vortex pummeled the city. While the snow plows took to the streets, I took to my couch. I hadn’t moved my car in a week until the inevitable meeting in the suburbs tumbled upon me today.

Thirty minutes before my car needs to head south, I traipse outside. My car is a mountain of snow from street to curb, a pile of snow shit. The only way I can tell it’s mine is when I press the unlock button and a hazy orange blinks at me through a layer of powder. Thank goodness my parents are smarter than me and bought me a shovel for Christmas.

A minute in, the tears start to freeze to my face (and, no, they weren’t tears of happiness or from the cold) when a green car pulls up and out walks my guardian snow angel – except I didn’t know that at the time. With outstretched arms, he grunts, “Here,” proceeding to take my shovel away from me.

For a full thirty seconds I stare at him while he begins to dig my car out. Once my brain unfreezes, I yelp, “Thank you so much!” and take my snow brush out of the backseat. A solid fifteen minutes goes by and spots of red are starting to come through. I can finally see my tires and the iced-over windshields. The snow angel sets down the shovel, floats to his car, then comes back with an ice scraper. Again, I stare. Why is this random stranger cleaning off my car in the freezing cold?

“What’s your name?” I finally ask.

“Roberto.”

Once more I reach in the backseat, this time pulling out a box of tissues. “Again, thank you so much! I don’t have much to offer you, but do you want a tissue?” He grabs one and then explains that he’s paying it forward; he’d just run out of gas and was stranded on the street when two strangers stopped and gave him a gallon of gas. We continue to work for ten more minutes in silence. My car is spotless. I would’ve given up at barely seeing through the windshield, but Roberto ensures every speck of ice is eliminated.

Without saying anything, my snow angel walks back to his car. I yell out, “Thank you again! Have a wonderful day!”

“You too,” he says, “and thanks for the tissue.”

New Year, New Resolution

My New Year’s resolution isn’t going to be a shocker – I want to be healthier – but I won’t be one of those wavering resolutionists, because I will stick to my guns (I know, everyone says that, but seriously, I will). I’ve scheduled a wellness visit with the doctor and will check again next year to see how I’ve compared. Here’s the plan:

  1. Eat healthier – While I’m not an unhealthy eater now, I do want to work on cutting out unnecessary snacking and the “need” for dessert and pop. When I went to yoga training last August, I went cold turkey with caffeine for a whole month. Now, I can proudly say that I have no real cravings for soda. I do drink it occasionally, but I’d like to drink even less (that includes non-caffeinated pop). I’d also like to eat fewer sweets and more veggies/fruits. For my birthday, I got a Magic Bullet so I can make fruit smoothies; I’m also a huge fan of yogurt with berries. Hummus is one of my fave foods, so I’m going to incorporate that into my snack regime.
  2. Drink less – I’m no alcoholic, but my social life made my drinking a bit excessive this past year. Though I clearly had a bunch of fun, I might have had too much fun with the alcohol. To help curb the alchie enthusiasm, I’m planning to cut down on my liquor consumption – a maximum of a drink or two, one night a week. Friends, please note that this does not mean I can’t still go out and have fun!!
  3. Do more yoga – When I was in Hong Kong, I went to yoga at least 3 times a week because my schedule allowed for it. Now that I work banker’s hours, I can’t get to yoga until 5:30 or 6, then it’s at least 7:30 by the time I get home. Can you say starving?!?! Now that my I’m cutting alcohol out of my daily routine, maybe I can fit in more yoga??
  4. Take my vitamins every day – I’m lazy, what can I say? I need to remind myself to take my vitamins and do my PT stretches with notes in my bedroom.
  5. Happiness journal – I re-watched an Oprah episode with Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Pray, Love and as many of my loyal followers know, I love this book! I’ve written plenty of blog posts about it and my adventure in Hong Kong was loosely based on the premise of “finding yourself” in a new place. In this Oprah episode, Liz (yes, we’re on a first name basis here) brought up this idea of a happiness journal where each day you write down 1 thing that you “really, really, really want” and your happiest moment of the day. Only a couple minutes and you’re set with a book full of happy times!

 

I’m not hoping for luck this year on my resolutions, because they’re all things I know I can accomplish, just have to take the time and make the effort to achieve them.

When the Goin’ Gets Tough

Recently, an ex of mine from Hong Kong popped into my head so I searched my gmail for old messages in order to find his email address. For giggles, I reread our exchanges; I’d completely forgotten how smitten I’d been with him. Even though he’d done so in a very gentlemanly way, he had rebuked my advances toward a relationship. Wasn’t it fun to be casual? And, yes, of course, we had fun, but I wanted to be in a relationship. I stuck it out for nearly six months with this guy who had clearly stated he did not want to be in a relationship, though he did enjoy my company. 

This same “city guy, just wanna have fun” syndrome has afflicted many guys I’ve met in a city, Chicago and Hong Kong alike. 

I was recently in a relationship, and I stuck it out even when it was awful. There’s this vivid memory I keep coming back to: we’d gone out dancing and when we returned he accused me of staring at other guys. I hadn’t been, clearly, but he was adamant. He yelled and sulked, I sobbed. If I’d ever imagined this situation before meeting this guy, I’d have walked out. Been done. Never stayed with someone who made me feel so bad. That was March, we broke up in July. I persisted, as I’d done with the guy in Hong Kong. Why? 

If you’ve never heard of or read 40 Days of Dating, you’re about to become addicted. While reading the blog, I wrote down a few lines that stuck out and this one describes my problem quite accurately:

“Truthfully, when I find something I like, I want it all the time. I know I can have a slightly obsessive personality. This can apply to a song, a restaurant, a piece of clothing, a type of makeup, or a kind of food. I can be the same with relationships. If I am really into a guy, I am totally cool to hang out as much possible. Weekend trips, family events, work parties, bring it on!”

Here, here! Besides the slightly obsessive personality trait that I, too, possess, I can qualify my behavior a bit more: I’d really like to be out of the dating stage and into the “I love you, let’s get married” stage, yet I clearly have difficulty articulating between what’s “I love you” and what’s “you’re fun, but…” This deserves a bit more practice, so in the spirit of New Year’s resolutions, I vow to look out for me and my best interest. I won’t get too addicted and I won’t make a fool of myself. Cheers to that!

Taking Chicagoland by storm…one date, one yoga class, one salsa lesson, one blog post, one trip, one drink, one meal, one new friendship at a time.