Life · Stories

Those firemen though…

It’s been two full years since I totaled Sally-Civic (Phew! Statute of limitations is up!). Two full years since a very sweet lady pulled over on the side of 95 and helped me out of my car. Two full years since the nicest state trooper I’ve ever met sat me in his squad car and talked me down from passing out while we waited for the ambulance. Two full years since five firemen sweetly knelt down around me and bandaged up my (later stitched-up) knee while very likely (but surely accidentally) looking up my dress. Two full years since I limped around on a date with one of those firemen who seemed dreamy and charming. And a little less than two full years since I went on a second date with said-fireman and learned that he was (definitely) not (though, I guess he had already looked up my dress and I should have known better).

Sally

At the risk of being dramatic, I might should have died that day – at least gotten a lot more hurt. I wrecked during a rush hour on interstate 95 in the far left lane and somehow drifted, briefly unconscious and surrounded by airbags and that awful airbag-smoke-smell, across three lanes where my car stopped on it’s own 50 yards down the road on the far right shoulder.  How I wasn’t hit as my car made it’s way across those lanes and so far down the highway can really only be attributed to God looking out for me.

The stories that followed that accident are mostly funny – knowing those firemen really did probably see up my dress as a sat on the guardrail hyperventilating (I actually told them I was going to faint – as you know, I don’t do well with blood. They all jumped up and freaked out thinking I meant I had hit my head or something. I had to calm them down and say it was just the blood issue… and they laughed at me) and going on those two dates with the one (who I’ve bumped into around town a few times since – once sleepily, makeup-less, in my pajamas, with my hair on top of my head as I evacuated my apartment building for a fire alarm at 3 o’clock in the morning).

But really, it reminded me, and continues to remind me, of our power to encourage, comfort, support, and affect one another. In the days following that accident, I was overwhelmed by love; all of the strangers who had been so sweet to me, one of my best friends – Alex (previously mentioned) leaving work and getting stuck in the traffic that I had caused to pick me up because I desperately did not want to ride in the ambulance, and everyone who checked on me and sent their love. I still think about all of that kindness regularly.

I’m obsessed with the power we have to impact each other’s lives, and incredibly blessed and thankful that people repeatedly use that power to positively affect me.

That’s all. 🙂

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Life · Uncategorized

Another cheesy “Dear Future Husband” post…

Dear Future Husband,

Here’s a few things that you should know… if you’re going to be my one and only all my liiiife(just kidding).

Really though… I miss you. Is that strange? To miss someone you haven’t met yet? It probably is but I do. I wish I could explain it.

I don’t really know where to start in writing this to you – only because there are so many things I want to say, so many things that have happened, so many things that make me who I am, so many things I want to share with you. Really I want to be with you now. I want to hear your laugh (warning, I’m pretty hilarious). I want to feel at home simply because you’re around.

Right now, specifically, I want to be comforted by you.

What about that, is that strange? Haha, wanting to be comforted by your future person?

You should know that I write this to you a little heartbroken again -okay, like pathetic can’t eat, can’t sleep, sick-feeling as soon as I open my eyes,  “little” heartbroken. I’ll bounce back, of course, but dating is so hard, isn’t it? Do you hate it as much as I do? I hate it, hate it. I’ll never understand why it can’t be easier… more honest, more reliable, more genuine, more intentional, more selfless. I’d love that; I like you – you like me, let’s watch TV and bake cookies or something equally lame and sweet and be in complete fearless bliss.

I’ve “wasted” time (the future me who knows you will say, “it wasn’t a waste, I understand now!”) dating guys who haven’t been nice to me, who have led me on and let me down. I’ve dated guys who have made me question if I’ll ever find you, if you’ll ever find me, if you even exist at all.

I’ve done a pathetic and embarrassing amount of crying through it all (you’ll learn I’m a crier)… and agonizing and worrying and stressing and doubting… I’ve been impatient and I haven’t trusted God the way that I should. Honestly, I guess I haven’t trusted you the way that I should and for that, I’m sorry.

At the end of every “relationship”/dating disaster, I’ve begged God for you. “Where is he? Why do I have to wait so long? Why does my wait hurt so bad? Send him to me! Make this stop!”

At which point, I’m sure God laughs at me; knowing exactly who you are, and where you are, and what you’re doing, and at what point our life paths meet, and why they haven’t yet.

I know He’s working on you like He’s working on me. And if you’re anything like me… well, I just know He’s had His work cut out for Him with me…

I’ve given Him hell, kicking and screaming, to learn important lessons. Slowly but surely though, with a lot of backup from a lot of amazing people, I’m learning them. I imagine that by the time we meet, they’ll be a solid part of who I am and I guess they’ll be a part of the reason we work. And I get that.

I’m learning how to be more resilient. I’ve been kind of a wimp leading up to this point.

I’m learning not to take anything for granted.

I’m learning how to really appreciate other people; their time, love,  dedication, needs, and spirit.

I’m learning how fast time goes by, and to embrace the people and things in it before it’s too late.

I’m learning that family is what really lasts.

I’m learning that there are some things that you just have to let go of. And that that’s okay.

I’m learning how to put my self-worth in real things instead of tangible ones.

I’m learning not to put my happiness at a finish line.

I’m learning that I like a little space – but I like to have a little reassurance in it.

I’m learning that I’m a hand-holder. Sorry.

I’m learning how to be patient. Okay, honestly I don’t know if I’m actively learning this one or being forced to learn it but I’m learning it. Very reluctantly.

I know that there is value in my wait, in your wait.  I know that God has planned you for me and me for you and that He has us on specific, intentional paths that will one day join. I like to think that you wonder about me and that day like I do sometimes.

In these tough parts, when I’m craving your presence, I remember that you’re out there… doing your thing, becoming who you’re supposed to be, working your way towards me. I’m comforted by the idea that when I meet you, all the feelings I thought I had for others won’t even compare and that I’ll appreciate you even more for it… and that that whole, “everything happens for a reason” thing will prove itself true.

I hope that during your tough days, it crosses your mind that I pray for you. I pray that you’re happy. I pray that you’re healthy. I pray that you’re surrounded by good people. I pray that you’re enjoying your life. I pray that you’re proud of who you are. I pray that you’re strong and resilient. I pray that you pray. I pray that you know you’re not alone. I pray that you have faith and confidence in who I’ll be to you one day. And I pray that you can fix things… because I can’t fix anything and I’m always breaking stuff!

I don’t write any of this to nag you or rush you or worry you. I guess all I’m trying to say is that I’m excited to meet you. I can’t wait to tell you how amazing you are. I can’t wait to make dinner with you (because you know, I only learned how to cook in my last couple of years) and buy you Christmas gifts (I love Christmas) and fight with you (sorry, I’ve never really fought with anyone so it might as well be someone I know is going to stick around) and meet your family (oh my gosh, you’ll love my family, they’re the best)… I can’t wait to laugh with you, and cry with you, and learn with you, and grow with you… I can’t wait to finally know you and to turn to God and say, “Okay, okay, I get it! This is why I had to wait a while, I’m sorry I gave You such a terrible hard time. It was so worth it.” And I know it will be.

Yours,

L

(ps. I think it’s adorable when grooms cry. Just sayin.)

Quick thoughts

You’re welcome ladies.

A guy (*cough*man-child*cough*) that I dated and really liked last year got engaged this weekend. We were not at all right for one another and I’m genuinely happy that he found the woman who is (…willing to put up with his crap, haha, just kidd… eh).

This is kind of the story of my life. Haha, I write this as I laugh out loud with a couple of coworkers about being the girl version of “Good Luck Chuck” (minus the scandalous-ness). They’ve decided that I have had (past tense) a habit of adopting broken people, being sweet to them, putting them all back together, and sending them back out into the world where the next girl they meets gets the revived and lovely version of them.

…You’re welcome.

That may be true. And therefore, as I sit here, retired of such shenanigans as I’m a grown-up now and I’ve done my part, some other girl out there better be putting in some serious effort fixing the hell out of some guy that will eventually get sent my way …and he better be damn-near perfect, all the time and energy I’ve contributed to the happiness of other women. #whoruntheworld #girls

Haha… ha… ha ha.

Quick thoughts

I got your crazy…

It’s another one of those Monday mornings. When I rolled out of bed 27 minutes after my alarm went off and looked in the mirror for a “you can do it” pep-talk, my face was so swollen I caught myself poking at my cheeks like, “what the…

Then I moseyed into the kitchen where I make eggs and coffee every morning on auto-pilot. My kitchen is really small and I can almost reach every part of it standing in the same place. I put the cartoon of eggs on the counter and turned my back for a split second to grab my coffee and I heard an icky splat-crunch-drip combo sound. Entire carton of 12 eggs on my tiny kitchen floor.

Raw eggs are gross! They have like a weird non-scoopable (off the floor at least) quality but you also can’t just like blot / wipe / soak them up, ya know?

Anyways, I came by here to share something quick and funny I learned about myself this weekend. I spent another weekend soaking up time with different groups of amazing friends and mixing-in with new people.

One of the nights, I met a man who, after a little small talk, told me he’d “bet” that I was “a little crazy” and in my head, I thought, “I will… strangle you… with my brain fool,” and my eyeballs felt a little hot in my head.

I’ve always wondered about those women who can act totally psychotic and yet always get to keep the good guys around. Some of my guy friends let this happen to them. Why? How? Huh?! I’ve never had it in me, not like that. Or at least I didn’t think I did. Apparently, as I learned this weekend, staring at this guy, waiting for him to catch fire from my thoughts, it might be in me. Just a little. Deep down. Waiting for someone who actually knows me and whose opinion actually matters, to say it.

“Girl, stop being crazy!” …. “Oh, okay, I’ll show you crazy. Buckle up buddy.” (Haha, I’ve always wanted to say that.)

…it’s probably not really in me but… if it is… you’ve been warned.

Have a great non-crazy Monday!

Stories

yeah, I’ve dabbled in online dating…

I’m hesitant to write about my dating life because I’m still dating (don’t get confused, I’m currently quite single but you know, “dating” *eye roll*) and I would hate to end up meeting someone who already knew too much about my history or who’d worry that he’d end up in a story online. But some of the funniest, craziest “stories of my life” involve dating and what’s the point of misery and embarrassment if not for other people laugh at it? So, to protect the “innocent,” I promise to only share old dating stories and nothing too recent.

For now. Mwaha.

I am a happy and glorious 26 years old but also one of the last girls standing in my friend group – which is fine with me, truly. But when your friends all start getting “husband-ed/wifed up,” the likelihood, as it turns out, of meeting people through them or out-and-about with them, goes down. Like way down. And so the flickering screen of the online-dating-world beckons…

This will have to be a continuing theme in posts to come because I have a boo-coo of hilarious attempted dating stories, both online and off, but to kick it off…  a relatively-tame quick awkward too-close-for-comfort meet-up that happened (not so) recently…

I think chances are, everyone lies on their online dating profile. I’ll admit to having my “Body type” listed as “About Average” which… I don’t know… I might teeter on the “A little more to love” line sometimes? Maybe? Nah. Eh? Yesssss. Dangit.

But that’s a thin line! (Ha.) And that’s not so bad, is it?! I met a guy whose online profile claimed 6’2… which really is kind of the “dream” height, not that I’m really deterred by any number but there’s a tiny little extra pep in your step on the way to meet 6’2. I’m too old and I’ve been out with one too many 6’2-ish losers to really care about height, but… I would have worn a shirt with a higher neckline…

After website-talking, then text message-talking, then phone-call-talking (gah, so exhausting), 6’2 and I met up at Cafe Caturra for a drink. He said he’d wait by the fireplace and he’d have a book, which was just… adorable… in theory. When I walked in, I saw lots of men with books, and one by the fireplace.

I’m 5’7. I recognize that maybe this is a little tall for a woman (Confirmed: Wiki says 5’4 is the average height for women in the US. *scoffs*), but it’s not that tall… unless you’re expecting Mr. 6’2 when Mr. 5’2 approaches…

Do you know what the difference is between 6’2 and 5’7 and 5’2 and 5’7? Well, for a woman, it’s the difference between a hug involving your head “on” his chest and his head “in” your chest. You know what I’m sayin’? … an innocent hug versus second base.

In my natural way, I tripped on my way to meet him halfway between the fireplace and the door (always happens) and in a laughing-fit-first-hug, Mr. 5’2, wanna be 6’2, kind of, I don’t know how to put this, bit …-ish my…Don’t make me say it.

We had a glass of wine in uncomfortable hysterics and then never spoke again.

…that is until I started seeing someone else… and accompanied him to party at his friend’s house… and what do you know, the house was owned by the guy who accidentally, publicly, within 2-minutes of meeting, bit(ish) my….

Don’t make me say it.

This is nothing compared to my book of dating stories. Please do stay tuned.