Love is Blind Wednesday, August 19, 2009

We always say we are never going to be that girl (or guy).  The one who is so blinded by the power of love that they lower their standards and expectations, and ultimately forget what it is that is truly important to them.  Not to mention manage to look like a total idiot when all is said and done (yes, I am speaking from experience here).

We all know it happens, and whether you have been directly affected, or are a victim of someone else’s erratic lovesickness, you are all too aware of the symptoms.  A few of my most recent experiences (personal and observed) have included things like the fear-of-break-up compromise and what I like to call the over-giving of the “benefit of the doubt” to people who don’t exactly deserve it.  Other common symptoms can include avoiding certain situations that lead to unwanted truth, tunnel vision and ignoring the blatantly obvious (most of the time only observed by us outsiders, unfortunately).

It can happen to anyone, and yes, I’m sure you saw this one coming, it happened to me.  But hopefully my confession will help some of you avoid similar situations, and have a good laugh at my expense.

I met a guy at an event I was working, and after the event ended, we continued to talk long-distance.  At this point, I didn’t have any expectations being it was pre-lovesickness, but the next time we were in the same town again, he took me out.  From there things seemed to heat up rather quickly.  Two days after returning home, he flew me into where he was living and we spent an unforgettable 4 days together.

(Photo from 'xKimJoanne' via Flickr)

We had “the talk” at the end of my visit and decided it would be best for both of us to not remain exclusive for the sake of the business of both our schedules and the distance factor.  We both really liked each other, but did legitimately have a crazy few months ahead of us work wise, and didn’t know when we were going to see each other again.   That didn’t stop me however from marking my territory by strategically leaving one of my dresses in his closet (in plain view of his bed I might add) for potential female visitors to see.   Some call it crazy, but I call it tactic.

Most people can’t honestly look back and say they can pinpoint when the lovesickness actually set in.  But I sure can.  How could I forget?  After changing my flight so I could stay just one more day, he dropped me off at the airport and we said our goodbyes.  It wasn’t until I got in the security line at the airport that I lost all control.

I reached into my purse to pull out my id and all of a sudden I realized I was crying.  Was this really happening?  Was I really crying in an airport over a guy I barely knew?  And in a public place none the less?  I thought this only happened in the movies!

But I couldn’t stop.  The waterworks continued until I got to my gate, and after going to the bathroom to try to compose myself and failing rather miserably, I tried to find an unoccupied gate in an effort to avoid the stares and whispers that were being shot my way by God knows how many strangers.  Could this get any worse?

Apparently so.  I managed to see one of my co-workers in the most remote airports in the state of California.  Figures.  Try explaining that one on Monday morning.

I tried to get back to life as usual once I returned home, but as expected for someone in my condition, it was next to impossible.  Lucky for me, I was able to hide it from him, which was definitely in my favor.  No one wants to be known as a crazy girl, even though all girls secretly are.

We talked a few times a week, but for the most part texted as our work schedules never seemed to allow for much else.  Things seemed to be going well, minus my fast-progressing illness that is, and before we knew it we had planned another visit.

But this time it was different.  What had once been over-the-top effort on his part slipped to marginal.  At the time, however, I just played it off as his work commitments and tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.  I mean, what guy wants a girl who won’t accept his best as good enough?  I went along with the change of pace, continuing to be supportive, and trying to remind myself of the other stressors in his life that were likely the cause of it all.

Even after finding another girl’s lip gloss next to his bed, noticing he had removed my dress from the spot I had strategically placed in his closet and finding a picture of him and another girl at the bottom of his laundry basket (I was not snooping I was cleaning) I didn’t acknowledge the obvious change.  Why ruin our time together?  It was short, and I technically couldn’t be mad since we weren’t exclusive.

Looking back, this is where I start to feel really stupid.  If he is careless enough to leave another girl’s lip gloss in plain view when he knows I am coming to visit, can’t find a better hiding spot for his picture framed princess and can’t think to bring my dress out of hiding before I get there to notice it is missing from where I left it, what is he really trying to tell me here?  I should have realized right then and there that the time and feelings I was putting into whatever was going on between us was a waste of my time, but I couldn’t.  I didn’t want to hear the truth.

After I left to go back home, things started to go downhill.  He was not calling when he said he was going to, texting me back sometimes days later and when we did actually speak on the phone, things were different.  And as badly as I wanted to bring up the obvious change, I didn’t in fear of losing what connection we still maintained. I continued to accept his behavior and make excuses for him, and even sent him a birthday package (a damn good one I might add).

And even after he conveniently decided to visit his family in another city at the last minute when I was scheduled to be in town for a family vacation it didn’t dawn on me that I should speak up.  I again reassured myself as I had been doing all along and continued to feel the complete agony that had now overtaken by daily life.

It wasn’t until my sister-in-law, who had met him when he took me out on our first date, inquired about how things were going between us that the truth I had been avoiding all along dawned on me.

What the hell was I doing?  I credit her (and a few other people I ignored throughout this 4 month process) for bringing me back to reality.  I had done something I promised myself I would never do—settle.  I can’t tell you how many times I have preached to my girlfriends about lowering their standards, forgetting about what they wanted and deserved.  And here I was allowing it to happen to me.  How did I let it get to this point?

There is only one explanation—love is blind.  And until you are ready to see things for yourself, no one is going to change your perception.

From that moment on, I ceased all contact, and realized in the process, that was what he had been trying to do all along—the infamous fade-out (I personally, I am not a fan of the fade-out, and prefer the cut-off instead, which I am rather good at, I might add, but everyone is different I guess).

As I have been able to look back on this situation and reflect on what has happened, I have learned more than I could have ever imagined.  Though it was disappointing (and embarrassing, let’s be honest) to be in this situation, I in no way blame him for my ignorance.    He taught me a great deal about myself and I will never forget the way he made me feel—and for that I thank him.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is true—I have been that girl.  But in my defense, it is hard to walk when you can’t see.

All dogs go to Heaven: A Tribute to Tucson Monday, July 21, 2008

It all started one faithful spring day in 1994 as my mom and I were returning home from a trip to San Diego to visit my older brother at college.
We de-boarded our plane and made our way to baggage claim to meet my Godparents who were picking us up.  We saw Wes first—and for some reason he was holding a video camera and had a shit-eating grin on his face.  It seemed strange, but being eight years old, I hammed it up and rolled with it. 
A few minutes later, we saw Stephanie.  She was holding a little black puppy in her arms wearing a big red bow. 
It was love at first sight.  I named him Tucson, a name I came across in an airline magazine I had been flipping through on our flight home that featured, you guessed it, Tucson, AZ.  Ah, the creativity of an eight-year-old. 
Our first night was a little rough.  Thank God my Dad was out of town—we needed a night to prepare him for what he was about to come home to.  It was then and there we realized we didn’t have an ordinary dog on our hands.
The first few years—okay let’s be honest—the first eight years were a little rough with Tucson.  He spent the greater part of this day chewing on the siding of our house, tearing the stuffing out of our lawn chair cushions (after giving them a good hump, of course) and chasing his tail.  Some experts say a dog chasing its tail is a sign of stupidity, but I think Tucson was the exception—this dog was too smart for his own good.
In his younger years, he loved running the loop of our backyard, working up enough momentum to run up the side of our 6 foot fence to peek his head over.  He even got his foot stuck in between the boards once, leaving him dangling by one of his back legs 5 feet off the ground after trying to chase down a bird. 
Even though he tended to get himself into a little mischief once in a while, he was a good dog at heart.  Every day after school, I would find him waiting for me at our front window—sometimes even standing on top of the dining room table to catch a better view of my school bus. 
I taught him tricks like roll over, shake and play dead, and we even took him on vacation with us to Disney World.  He didn’t actually get to ride the rides with us, but he did ride on the tram from the parking lot. 
Yes, Tucson was a pretty special dog.  He loved his family more than anything (except maybe table scraps) and was the greatest watch dog around.  The UPS man was so scared of him he would throw packages on the porch without ringing the doorbell, seeing it more appropriate to run for his life.  And he frightened the Orkin man so badly once he never came back. 
And like any other dog, Tucson loved his treats.  Even if he wasn’t hungry, he would gladly accept them, hiding them for later throughout the house.  He especially liked treats he wasn’t supposed to have, in particular, chocolate.      
Once, we had a bag of at least six Cadbury Cream Eggs sitting on our kitchen island, and came home to just the bag on the floor.  Positive he had ingested them all and was within minutes of puking all over the carpet, we watched him closely.  But surprisingly, he was perfectly fine. 
Two days later I sat down on the couch.  Reaching in between the cushions I found a half melted Cadbury Egg.  Needless to say we found a few more scattered throughout the house over the next few days, discovering the majority of his secret hiding spots. 
Tucson always had a lot of energy, so it was easy to tell when he wasn’t feeling his best.  A few years ago, our vet suggested an ultrasound when his labs reported his liver function was abnormal.  Being home for the summer on a break from school, I had the pleasure of taking him. 
As I walked into the emergency vet clinic, also a specialty clinic for things like this, I couldn’t help but look around at all the sick dogs.  What was I going to do when Tucson was like this?  In the midst of my thought, we were called into the room.
After the procedure, the doctor came in to speak with me.  With Tucson at my feet, he showed me the pictures they had taken along with the ultrasound.  The doctor explained to me that the right lobe of his liver was significantly larger than his left, which explained his poor labs, and was something that he could not diagnose without exploratory surgery. 
Surgery of course, would require general anesthesia, which with his liver function, was a huge risk.  As he continued to talk, my head began to spin.  I was no longer listening to the words the doctor was saying.  The only thing I could think about was how I could not imagine my life without the heartbeat that was at my feet. 
As we were waiting at the counter to pay, I began to cry.  Tucson could always tell when I was upset.  Whether I was sad about not getting my way as a child, or upset about a boy as a teenager, Tucson was always there.  I felt him nudge my hand, letting me know he was there.  Realizing I had caused somewhat of a scene, I reached down to pet him.  But before I could get there, Tucson took a huge dump on the waiting room floor. 

(Photo from ‘johannal’ via Flickr)

My sadness instantly turned to laughter and I bent down to thank him for saving me once again from my tears.  No matter what, he always knew just what to do to make everything okay. 
Tucson stuck it out for a few more years after what seemed like a terminal diagnosis.  We almost lost him last summer before I moved away for my first real job, something I saw quite symbolic.
He hung on until this past June, just shy of his 16th birthday.   He contracted a bad infection, which coupled with his bad arthritis, got the best of him.  Tucson went peacefully in his sleep—something we all thank him for—cuddled up on his favorite brown blanket.
I know Tucson lived a good life.  He taught us more lessons than we could ever have imagined, making us better children, parents, friends and people.  He’s in a place now without sickness and pain, waiting until we’re all ready to go Home for good. 
I’m sure he is up there somewhere chasing birds and eating Cadbury Eggs—but I have to say, I sure do miss him.