The next step

Okay. So I return home after the "I have been thinking about suggesting we get a place together" comment and can barely sleep. Is he serious? Are we ready? Will he bring it up again? Is this the "right" time? What is the "right" time, anyways? Who makes that call? These questions plague my mind as I drift off for what will only be a few hours sleep.

I wake up the next morning excited, coaching myself over and over throughout the day that I can be the one to bring this up again. That I can be brave. That I can fight all my female insecurities that tell me to wait until he brings it up. I script the conversation perfectly in my head. Yes, I'm all set to make an appearance as the rarely seen (but often aspired to) assertive and confident KP.

He picks me up from work and takes me to my place to grab some clothes for today and then drives me home. I settle on the couch to read. He runs to the store for wine, and then starts making dinner. Salmon, risotto (he makes the BEST risotto), and vegetables. He's talking to me from the kitchen. About his day. About our upcoming trip to Philly. He starts telling me about his friend's documentary: "I want to see my friend's documentary I was telling you about. It looks so awesome." KP stares at "J" with blank a look on her face. "J" realizes he hasn't told me about this particular film yet. "You know, this wouldn't happen if we had more time together or if we lived in the same house."

Shortly after the SECOND mention of us becoming roomies, we sit down to dinner. There's romantic music playing in the background, candles lit, and wine has been poured. We sit and talk. And then he asks me: do I freak you out when I talk about these things. Like the future? Moving in together? Marriage?" I smile. I answer with a resounding NO! I mean, sure it's scary to be so vulnerable. But, something in my soul tells me this is right. We are right. I can't explain it or rationalize it. But it's SO GOOD! His face now is so close to mine I could feel his breath, see his dimples and myself in his dreamy blue eyes. He says: "so what do you think? do you want to live together?"

Yes. Yes, I do.

And with that we decide to start looking for a place after Christmas. Our place. Just the sound of that makes me smile in places so deep down inside. I will have a home. A HOME! I will unpack my make-up and my suitcases - and hang pictures. We will have a dining room table and a bed and dressers...and a bathroom to clean!

We spent the rest of the evening talking about the future. Our future. And smiling (we tend to do this a lot when we're together). It was magical. And scary. It's a new chapter. And new chapters are always a little bit scary.

Given this new level of vulnerability, I convince myself (with no particular evidence to support this next statement, of course) for a few short moments today that he regrets his decision and is kicking himself for ever suggesting it. I mean, who would seriously want to move in with me!?! I am obsessive-compulsive about my towels, take long showers and sing in my underwear. Constantly. Just then, my almost perfect boyfriend (yes, I have down-graded his status slightly so that I can better manage expectations...like when he leaves his socks on the floor or something...hehe) sends me the link to a house for rent in Brookline. Just then I realize that maybe - just maybe - there's someone out there who DOES want to take this next step with me. Imagine that...

And as scary as it might be for both of us, I'm so excited to wake up next to his smiling face everyday. And, yes, even his socks on the floor.

Healing, fate, and new beginnings

So, this past weekend comes and I'm looking forward to spending some quality time with "J". We make plans to have dinner with my best girl, "D" and her boy Friday night. This will be the first time I'm meeting this boy I've heard so much about - and vice versa. We ended up at The Alchemist Lounge in JP for some of the best drinks, food, and company I've had in a long time. We heard some crazy stories about the medical field (see: prolapse) and "J" and I doled out some relationship advice. All exhausted from a long week, we left relatively early and headed home where "J" and I finally had some quality time together. We even got to sleep in a little Saturday morning! It was a small slice of Heaven.

Now, since "J" and I are heading to Philadelphia for Thanksgiving weekend, he had "Little J" this weekend. He invited me to spend the weekend with them. Fighting my desire to have this time with my favorite boy and his gorgeous little girl, I tell him to enjoy Saturday alone with her. He hasn't had any time alone with her in weeks - and they needed some daughter/daddy time. They had lunch, went to the movies, chilled out at home. It was everything he needed. Now, since I am not that selfless, I spent Sunday hanging with them. We played store and tic-tac-toe, colored, dressed up, and had the city's best hot chocolate.

Now, this next part is BIG! On Saturday, "J" told me that I had been invited to "Little J's" house to meet her mom ("N"), step-dad and sister. He asked me how I felt about this. Honestly, I felt fine. I was actually looking forward to meeting her mother. It would help me continue to connect the dots of his life - something I rather enjoy. So, our Sunday is planned around this first meeting.

We arrive after stopping at the store to pick up dessert. From the second I walk through the door, I feel comfortable. Like we're friends. We look at dresses in her closet. And talk about having more babies. And watch The Little Mermaid. And have dinner and drink wine. It was incredible. I would be friends with this girl. Later that evening - when I should have been in bed - "J" and "N" are in the kitchen having a very serious discussion. I am talking to her husband (me with the baby in my arms, of course) in the family room. I overhear "J" tell her that he's sorry for the way he treated her when she found out she was pregnant. At that very moment, my heart smiled - he's finally getting the opportunity he's waited years for. Finally getting to say the words he's felt for so long but never had the courage or opportunity to say. He's making amends and starting to build something with this woman who has dedicated her life to raising her children. I knew at that moment this dinner was fate - and that we were all a part of something wonderful.

When we finally leave (after hugs, of course), "J" tells me in the car about his amazing conversation. About the tears. And the hope. And the healing. She was grateful for his apology. He was grateful for her sacrifice. They both developed a love for each other that was non-existent before that moment. Now they both have an admiration, respect, and love for each other as they raise their beautiful daughter. What a gift! "Little J" might just be the luckiest girl in the world to have so many people who love her so deeply. And purely. That differences don't seem to matter. And the past can be forgiven.

We drive home, both exhausted but in awe of such an amazing experience. When he drops me off at my car, I tell him I miss him. I miss not living across the street. I miss it being so easy to sleep in his bed. He sits silent. I ask the obvious question: do you not miss living so close to me? He pauses for a moment. "Yes, I do miss not having you so close. I miss you being able to sleep in my bed and go across the street to get ready. I miss it so much that I have been thinking about suggesting we get a place together." I am paralyzed. But I manage to smile. Then he kisses me. And I get out of the car and climb into mine. And drive home. Smiling.

Erasing the past

I'm sure we all have moments in our lives that we wish we could take back. Those that are attached to feelings of regret, sadness and anger. And, although most of us say if given the chance we "wouldn't change a thing", no one really means that. The irony is that no matter how much we wish we could, none of us can erase the past.

I was working feverishly at my desk earlier this week when I got an email from my ex-husband. This isn't unusual, so I thought nothing of it. The message is cordial - says he has a favor to ask of me - could he call me at work? Without hesitation, I tell him to go ahead. A moment later, the phone rings.

Nothing is out of place. He begins by telling me a funny story about his mom. Then tells me his new girlfriend is going home with him to meet his family for Thanksgiving. I tell him about my plans to spend the weekend in Philadelphia with "J". We joke about how funny and weird it would be if the four of us had drinks together. Then he does the awkward, now what was I saying? What was I going to say? Oh, yeah. The favor. Yes, the favor. Could we please get to it?

So, I'm gonna go ahead with the whole annulment thing, and need you to agree.

Excuse me. I'm sorry. But, did you say 'annulment'!?!

Now, our divorce was final a year ago next month. A year. And now you want to talk about an annulment? I tell him that I will agree to do that for him - that he just needs to tell me what to do. Will I have to sign something? Fill out a form? He tells me in not so many words that it's his new girlfriend's idea. That she wants the annulment. Of our marriage. One word, three letters: Our. We hang up. And I begin crying at my desk.

At first, I was confused by this reaction. Why would I be so upset about this? The divorce was done a year ago. I moved out long before that. Why the tears? After some serious thinking and talking about this request, I realize that I am upset that he wants me to agree to erase our past. Erase me. After 12 years, he wants to sign some papers and erase everything. Like it never happened. Once it's done, in the eyes of the church, we will never have been married. Maybe I shouldn't be the one to judge since it was me who walked out on our vows. I reneged on that promise. And, if I could do that, shouldn't he have the right to try to erase the hurt?

I fundamentally disagree with this. I don't regret my decision - to get married or to leave. I am proud of who I have become through these decisions and experiences. "J" knows all about my past, and loves me more in spite - or because of - it. I have such a hard time thinking about a new person coming into my ex-husband's life - which I shared for so long, and asking him to erase me. I am even more furious that he is agreeing to it. Is he ashamed? Is it because he can't say no? Is it because he can't move on with any parts of me still remaining? The guilt I feel as I write these words is overwhelming. That's why I said yes. That's why I didn't fight. Because I know that I made a decision that altered the course of his life forever. And as hard as it is for me, and as much as I disagree with it, I feel like it's one small thing I can do to help him move on. To find closure.

There is no erasing the past. The memories remain - in my mind and in photographs. I was a different person back then, as was he. I am grateful for the things I learned through him. Maybe he's still hurting from the things he learned through me. Maybe this will help him forget the bad times. I guess a part of me is scared that he'll forget the good. Maybe I'm more scared that I've become someone who can simply be erased.

I wonder if that's how he felt when I walked away.

A new address...again

I am sitting right now in the Junebug cafe - my favorite place in JP. That's not far off from what I'm doing every week, as I often find myself here for several hours at a time, disappearing into my thoughts through writing. This time, though, is slightly different. First, I sit here with one of my best girls, "D" who wanted to try her hand at writing, and was looking for some inspiration. Second, and obviously what this post is about, is the fact that I now live only a few blocks away from this place that has quickly become my book-writing mecca. I am at peace in this moment as I type away at my computer with my friend beside me and a passion fruit bubble tea on the table. However, as much as I am at peace in this particular moment, I feel my insides ready to explode from the torture I have subjected them to with my nomadic lifestyle.

I was dreading yesterday. I hated the thought of packing my clothes. And moving them. Again. I hated the thought of not being across the street from "J" anymore. I had become so accustomed to walking across the street at midnight to crawl into bed with him. Waking up in the morning, leaving him there to sleep while I went home to get ready for work. I loved our life. It was like living together - light. I was dreading this move, knowing it would require more planning and effort when we had become so used to impulsive and easy. I left his apartment on Friday night with a very heavy heart and headed back to my apartment in Southie for the last time.

I woke up yesterday morning and started the process. I was miserable. Through some amazing self-therapizing, I realized that moving has become synonymous with anger and disappointment, as the last few times have been laden with those emotions. I also realized that the reason moving is so depressing for me right now is because I am moving into yet another temporary situation, where I will not hang any of my pictures, put away any of my dishes, or have the ability to take a shower any time I want. No, these are luxuries I gave up a long time ago - and I have been going "backwards" ever since. I have been talking to "J" about my feelings toward moving for the past few weeks. I found it impossible to hide these emotions from him. I wanted him to be a part of this move. I wanted him to be the security I was searching for. The comfort that moving always left me longing for. Moving meant lonely. And I was tired of that feeling.

As I sit here today I wish I could say that yesterday was different for me. That it didn't leave me feeling those things. That I walked into my new place and felt "home". Instead, I packed up my car and drove out of Southie alone, and pulled up at the new house and started unloading my belongings. I carried my blow-up bed to my room where I sat and watched missed episodes of The Office. And cried. Because I miss that feeling of falling asleep on the couch. And of making breakfast un-interrupted. And leaving my coat on the back of the kitchen chair. I miss the feeling that comes with a home - no matter what kind of home it is.

I am still upset. And I'm trying so hard not to be. I wish that it had gone differently, and that I would be able to finally look at moving in a positive way. But I'm not there yet. To me, moving means temporary and sad. It means living with strangers. It means another undetermined amount of time where I will only feel comfortable in a small section of a house. But, it also means new friends. And I am really looking forward to building relationships with the kick-ass girls who are my new roomies. When no one else was there to welcome me home, they did. With smiles and hugs. And, you know, that alone is more than I have had during any of my recent moves. So, it's already looking up. I have a good feeling about my next move. That it will be a place I can call home. And hang a picture. And FINALLY put my Christmas present from LAST year on MY fridge (thanks, KB!). Yeah, I'm slowly getting there. In the meantime, I will learn what I can from this experience, and keep notes for my next book. I am glad knowing that when a friend comes to me in the future, and is feeling unsettled, I can offer my experience as a small amount of solace - and hopefully they will be able to find some peace from my struggle.

But, if "struggle" means every weekend walking to the Junebug and sipping on bubble tea, I think I'll be just fine.

Yes We Can!

I sit here tonight so inspired and amazed. Just 24 short hours ago the fate of our country was still undecided - who would lead us at this time of change and tension? Would America step up to the plate and elect change and hope that was written in a different color? Or would we continue to elect what we know, scared of change?

I sat and watched the coverage with my roommate because "J" was out of town. I was walking home from the bus stop when I received a text message that Obama had won Pennsylvania. I cheered out loud while walking down the street. That was a HUGE victory! I got home and was immediately glued to the television. I watched as every state came in. When he took Ohio I knew we had it. He had taken it. Ohio usually isn't good for much - but they sure did come through in a BIG way!!

At 11:00, life as we know it changed forever. We sent the message to the world that we are willing to change - that we're not happy with the way things have been running. We hate this war. We hate this administration. Race will no longer cripple us, but unite us. We are no longer white, black, Asian, Hispanic. But people who want something different.

I was jumping. Screaming. Crying. People who lived through the civil rights movement. People who experienced it. They are able to dream of greatness. For themselves. For their children. America will stand behind them. We will not shut the door any longer.

I woke up today with a renewed faith. I read what the rest of the world was saying. About Obama. About America. There is a new light that shines. A new hope that exists. Nothing could get me down today. This is too good. We have made history. My children and grandchildren will read about this moment in history books years from now. And I will tell the story with pride. I was here. I was a part of this. I felt the hope. Saw the tears. Wrapped myself in the joy. They will not understand this moment because they will not have seen a world as divided as we have. They will listen to our stories with interest, but no clear understanding. The world is so different now. We have changed it forever. And for so much the better.

I am so proud tonight. So inspired. So amazed. I hope that the next 4 years brings as much hope as this past day has brought. If it comes anywhere close, we are in for an awesome journey.

Love is like diving???

So yesterday was an interesting day. I was supposed to be driving to Michigan with my dog - a plan that got changed about 10 times Thursday night. Instead, I ended up sleeping in late with "J", writing a press release which contained no news value whatsoever, hiding in the bathroom crying, and ended with a trip out of state.

And the only thing I had planned was writing the release.

"J"s birthday was this past week. I LOVE birthdays. I love buying presents. Planning surprises. I should celebrate birthdays as a profession. I had been scheming for weeks, trying to ensure he had a memorable day. You see, "J" also loves birthdays, but is used to planning his own celebrations. He's not used to - or okay with - giving up the control. Several times along the way I was close to throwing my hands up and allowing him to plan everything himself. But, I kept plugging along. In the end, he enjoyed a wonderful birthday, and I earned his trust. I think it was a good compromise.

Somewhere along the way, while trying to plan what I thought would be the perfect gift, I offended his family. I had no idea. "J" comes over yesterday to talk about "something". I, of course, start freaking out because these conversations are not something I'm comfortable with. I was raised where you deal with things in a passive-aggressive manner - expecting someone to know what you are upset about through non-verbal clues and strange verbal jabs. This never works, so I'm not quite sure why so many people still employ this age-old technique. So "J" explains what happens, and I end up feeling terrible. Somewhere during this honest discussion, he also manages to offend me greatly. Given my personal sensitivity, this is not terribly hard to do, I admit.

Nonetheless, the afternoon was spent wondering how someone I love - and who says he loves me back - could not know the fundamental things that make me me. I was pretty devastated.

A later discussion finds that the whole thing was a huge misunderstanding, and that we're both incredibly happy and slightly scared with where this is going. Happy because it's amazing and "perfect"; scared because it's always hard to let yourself go completely. And we are. He is looking for my "voids" to fill and I'm loving him in a way he's never known. But we're learning. Together.

I needed a break and a chance to clear my head, so I headed up to Maine late last night. When I arrived I had a long chat with "K". During our talk, something became clear. I have found something amazing. Something that doesn't require me to give - or take - everything. I get to do both. I get to love "J" the way I know how, and he gets to love me back - in his way. There's no losing myself. Rather, it's finding a me I've been searching for. A happy, balanced KP.

It's like this: I am daytime diving. A LOT to see. FULL of excitement. A constant burst of energy. Loving BIG. "J" is like nighttime diving. Amazing and beautiful and focused intensely on what's right in front of him. He takes his time to study it, learn it, love it. Loving consistently and slowly.

Yeah, it seems like a "perfect" match. Without being too presumtuous, I'm gonna say that I think we are going to be very happy. For as long as we are lucky enough to have it, that is.