Pennies for the Thoughts of the Chronic Dater, Part 1: "Puppy Love"

(In this four part series, we will follow the thoughts of a  woman who is forced to reflect on her past relationships to learn something.  It is narrated from her point of view.)

When I think back to times like elementary school, Junior high, hell even high school....and all the boys/men that have entered in and out of my life in different dynamics, I think about two things, why these men? Are there any patterns?

PUPPY LOVE.....
I think way back to fourth grade and my first two crushes -puppy love, if you will. They were two best friends that I refer to as Dawson and Pacey.  I kind of chuckle to myself thinking about it because knowing myself now, and seeing all my past situations, the irony and hillarity and petty anguish of being "in love" with two boys that happen to be best friends is in a note. ..hysterical. And back in fourth grade, relationships themselves were somewhat of a joke. We used to pass notes with a box where you could check yes or no, maybe share a seesaw or go down the slide together. Be eachother's partners jumping rope.  Dawson and Pacey had the whole gentlemen thing down at an early age.  I remember they would both bring me in a flower they had picked from their neghbor's garden from time to time and I, being me...panicked and shoved them in the back of my desk to rot.  I bet you could imagine the grossness on clean out your desk day. I would jump back and forth to dating one from the other. Its like I wanted to be with them both. Oh how I only wish I realized how easy it was back then.  Now the complexity of not just relationships, but guys alone is ridiculous. In my adult life, I realize that I cannot figure them out still to this day.

Junior high was an interesting time for dating. Here it was not only gaining the affection of a cute boy in Social Studies class, but it was also gaining the affection/jealousy of the girls- the cliques and the popularity of junior high....what a ride. Its almost as if in junior high, if you had a boyfriend or a girlfriend, you were cooler. And Junior high relationships lasted for maybe a period or two, maybe a week, and if lucky, longer. My first real boyfriend in Junior high, I will call him Boyband, was a total dreamboat. He was smart, cute, funny, and had the best dimples, he was also a muscician, I forget if it was initially trumpet or some other brass that he played in band class with me. I remember he actually passed me a note about calling him and on the bottom wrote "hang up if anyone but me answers", sadly, me being a stupid girl broke up with him eventually in the hallway through a friend.  And to top it off, Boyband had a presentation the very next class where my assigned seat was the front row. Poor guy. Luckily for him he grew up to be even more cuter and smarter and proved to be quite the catch.  Boyband and I dated for 2.5 months. This was big back then, and I threw it all away.

My other mentionable Junior high relationship was with a boy I call "Charmer", I call him Charmer because he had these charming gray eyes, and he was pretty advanced when it came to Junior high dating.  Let me remind you that unlike now in "adult" life, when you were in junior high it was acceptable to "trade" boyfriends and girlfriends, date one of your friends former flings (hey it was only a two class fling right?), and set up your friends with your former flings. So with that being said, Charmer had dated a lot of my friends at the time. He was the first boy I went on a real live date with. Except it was one of those group dates...."I'll bring a friend and you bring a friend" and you get dropped off at the mall to see a movie you dont really want to see, all in order to sit there next to eachother out in a dark room with no real chaperones. Charmer was a sweet talker, but the fact that my friends had all dated him grew weary on me and I never looked back or regretted our harboring break up.

What I learned from myself looking back on these Puppy love relationships now in my adult life, I see that I was a sucker for boys with nice smiles and dimples, I liked the thrill of dating (dangerously) best friends, and I guess in retrospect I was kind of selfish. The foreshadowing of these expiriences for what was about to come was probably unavoidable, but I was too infatuated with moving onto the next that I didnt take the time to think about what I had learned from any of them, what I took from the break up or relationship.  It was puppy love, and I was a giddy girl. Besides, High school was next with a whole new pond of fishies for me to play with.....

Wind Whirler

Ever notice how it lingers? How it surrounds and consumes? How it breezes by without any notice or conviction. The wind speaks a language no foreign tongue can comprehend.

There is a mystery to this phenomenon. It feels and makes you feel. It leaves you to wonder, what brought it on? What will follow? Its a mysterious aura that no one can quite explain. Its funny how certain things that are to come can be orchestrated by what is going on in the air. Tension, air so thick you could cut it with a knife, a breeze so warm you could be comforted for life. The stillness and silence that can ease, the stress and anguish that is relieved by a breeze...

It's mother natures mood in passing, a reflection of her personal emotion presented to us to take it how we see fit, and by doing so we fit it into our own.

Its a masculine wind that shows his strength, he wraps you up and teases you with coolness. He draws you in and makes you notice him. He shows his hostility when he feels questioned. He flirts with the calming effect of what leads to tranquility. He plays with your emotions as he wisps around your body. He is confusing and stops you in your tracks. He can be bitterly cold when all you seek is some warmth. He could leave at a minutes notice for you to wonder if he will ever be back..

The wind is on nobody else's terms but its own. It can take any direction and come in go in a flash. It can change a memory, it can create moments. Its just air right?

Funny how telling something as simple as the air can be to life.

Auf Wiedersehen

It had only been a minute....he thought to himself. As he took a drag off the cigarette he glanced around. The people he was there with were outside downing their ciagrettes like it was the last drop of coffee in the office....

He watched a girl chatting on the phone.... who was she talking too? he wondered..... A car pulled up. She quickly hurried in..."Auf Wiedersehen"...he found himself whispering to the girl under his breath. He wondered who had picked her up, or why she was in a hurry? Was it the rain? Did she have something to hide? Was she just eager to get close with the mystery person inside....

His cigarette was empy so he went back in. He found himself thinking about too many things.  "Auf Wiedersehen.", the phrase haunted him so. He imagined what his life would be like if he used that phrase more often. I mean, it was only a phrase, a salutation of politeness if you will. To some it meant simply "goodbye" but to others maybe,,,,"until next time...." If there be a next time....

He thought about his own life. The decisions he had made. Would "Auf Wiedersehen" had made them any easier?  He replayed the memoreis in his mind and replaced the moments that happened afterwards with that simple phrase...

The other night for instance, had he used it he would not have been dwelling so much on the present. "Auf Wiedersehen". Thats all it took.  Meaning, "this was fun, see you never if that is it."  or maybe "this was fun and i hope to see you again." or even "this was fun and you can show yourself to the door."  or so "this was fun and i wish for something more..."  So many different interpretations.

He was almost amazed how such a simple phrase could dictate his outlook on past events. How influencial a few words could be.  What? Just because it was a different language it meant more?

He thought of work and how much he wanted to utter those words. Some scenarios it wasnt fit for though. He chuckled to himself as he continued on....

Bills are due? "Auf Wiedersehen."
Hang up the phone? "Auf Wiedersehen."
Leaving for the eve? "Auf Wiedersehen."
Not interested? "Auf Wiedersehen."

Oh the words could have saved him so much time an trouble.

But then he realized.  Words are never so easy, and what is meant to be will somehow turn out. So though the girl that hurried away in the rain, to the strange car got his "Auf Wiedersehen". MOMENTS IN LIFE WOULD NOT GET HIS "GOODBYE" so easily.

What made it life was the mystery, not to be brushed off so easy by some foreign words, though they seemed so eloquent and true.  So as he drove home, the only "Auf Wiedersehen" he said was to the bar, and he meant "until next time". And he vowed to never think about words so deeply again, for they were only words, and not emotion. He knew a simple "goodbye" would only alleviate his problems, and he realized that some things were worth the challenge.

Half Past Eleven

The clock on her dashboard read half past eleven. She sat there for a moment contemplating if this was a good idea. The low hum of the engine in idle wasnt distracting enough for her to take her mind of what was about to ensue. The rain was coming down hard now, frantic if you will. It was funny how it matched the emotions she had bottled up inside. Her heart was beating so hard out of her chest that it was deafening to her.

Why had he done this...was this real? Why her? This girl? What was so different? She couldnt..- no....she didnt want to believe it. She put her signal on and slowly pulled out of the street she had been procrastinating on.  The scenes played over and over in her mind thanks to him and his stupid carelessness to not protect what he did not want her to find out. She could feel her hands shaking madly as she took the corner. Her headlights showed nothing but a rainy mist infront of her and she scrambled to turn on her wipers. They were on high. Back and forth. Back and forth. Just like her.  Why did it come to this? The feeling of sorrow kept on being shutdown by bursts of rage and disgust.  If only she had done something differently, not pushed him away, maybe it wouldnt have come down to this.

She was so consumed in her thoughts driving that she nearly missed a guardrail. Great. Not only was she taking a risk at losing her mind, but she almost killed herself in the process. Though for a moment she thought maybe that wouldnt be so bad if this was real. It wouldnt be long now, only another block away.  He never turns off his phone,or at least he never used to.....

With every minute that passed the anxiety of finaly seeing it with her own eyes killed her. The realization of truth and learning that he had failed her, was eating her mind up. Her heart was doing flip flops and her whole body felt weak. She arrived at the street and her car came to a stop.  Not wanting to go any further she checked her phone. Maybe he had called her to say goodnight. But nothing. Trying to prolong the inevitable, she turned on the radio. It was funny how everysong she flipped to had something to do with her situation, or so it seemed. She shut her eyes for just a moment to try to collect herself. You can do this, you need to know. Searching her bag for lighter and the cigarette she had saved for this moment. After months of trying to quit she figured this was an exception.  Lighting it she could not steady her hand enough to find the end. Finally she was able to and took a long hard drag off it. She blew the smoke out very slowly. As it burned down to the end she thought to herself that it couldnt wait any longer. It was now or never. She slowly turned the wheel and she could feel the car advance into the lot but yet she didnt even feel like she was driving it there.. Darkness.....


Darkness.....



There it was. His car was parked. More darkness. She blinked a few times, she felt numb. Suddenly a wave of emotion swept through her body, she felt sick. She opened the car door and hung her head out the side but nothing. She sat there for a moment slowly getting drenched from the downpour but she didnt care. She saw what she came to see though she didnt want to believe. She slowly got back into the car and closed the door, sat there in her shivering state. Sopping wet from the freezin rain, her heart was beating and her mind was racing. Should she go in there and cause a scene? Should she wait it out until morning right there? The anxiety and panick set in again and she could feel the knot in her stomach building. Her throat started to tighten as she tried her hardest to fight back her tears. She couldnt quite tell if they were tears for her or tears for them. All she knew was that she felt ruined.

Sitting back she thought of all the memories that were now tarnished, all the intimate moments that were now meaningless. She felt like she had fallen into a bottomles pit and there would be no way out. She felt like this was the end. Then the tears started falling. Hard tears into uncontrollable drops that were everflowing.He didnt deserve her tears but they persisted. The rage was building that she was crying over this and that this was real.  Her blood started to boil and suddenly she felt hot with anger. The tears streamed down her face which was clenched in a maddened way. She started up the car, the rain was still downpouring to match the downpour of her sorrows. Taking her foot off the brake she jammed on the gas. It let out a squeal as the car fishtailed out of the parking spot, she was aiming for his car, but didnt stop to notice any other surroundings . It was too late.....the car was in a jealous heat and went sliding sideways......


sideways.......



Had she not gone and seen it. She would still be home, thinking he was sleeping. Had she not gone and seen it she would wake up in the morning and go on with her day. Had she not gone and seen it, she would still be left wondering. Had she not gone and seen it she would still be alive, but not really.

The Lunch Hour

"I'll have one extra dry please," he yelled across to the bartender who was blatantly ignoring him. Tapping his foot against the barstool leg, he was starting to clench his teeth in impatience.  It had been a long season and work was at an all time boiling point. At first it started out as a happy hour drink every Friday, which now had turned into 2 or 3 at happy-lunch-hour almost everyday.

The bartender finally came over with the shaker, as she poured his lunch she gave him a grim look of disgust because he had since become one of her regulars that took up not only her time and barstool, but her love for hospitality. She hurried to shake the last drop in the glass (she was obviously eager to leave before he could initiate a single word) and briskly turned around again to the opposite side of the bar to attend to a guest who wasnt as crass.

"What the fuck was her problem? You dont know me. I bet you wish you could know me more than you want. I bet I could hit that. I bet she's high maitenence but then what the fuck would I do? I'd have another fuckin broad calling me askin for my time and my money". As he downed his drink resentfully watching her attend to the other patrons he simmered in his thoughts.  His attention briefly shifted to the people surrounding him. Since it was the bar attached to the highrise of his office building, it was full of suits.  Black suits, tan suits, grey suits. Suits with polos, suits with ties, skirt suits. Hell, some of the suits had a suit under the suit. He drank the last bitter drop of the not-so-dry martini and turned around on the stool to face the window.

The cold November rain was hitting the sidewalks of the Back Bay like they were made of metal. Coming down in sheets.  His soggy reflection on the window showed a scruffy 5'oclock shadow (he hadnt had time nor had he really cared to shave that morning) and tired eyes. He couldnt believe that this was it. This was his life. He had sold out and gotten the paycheck rather than the passion. He loosened the tie and unbuttoned the top button; Suddenly he had to catch a breath as he broke a small sweat thinking of the monotonous life he had forced himself to live now.

When had he gotten so bitter? It hadn't always been this way. There was a time when he had a gig playing drums in his buddys band. They would play at- oh what the hell was that place called? It seemed like ages ago that he couldnt even remember the simple name of the dive bar. But he did remember the feeling, the rush he got from playing nightly shows, the attention from the girls that would come to watch them play, the freedom and carelessness of being a nightowl.  A time when he was living paycheck to paycheck but he could sleep in as late as he wanted and he loved it. That was a time of his life he now referred to as his "fake celebrity". Now for him all it was was just that. A distant memory. The reflection in the window mocked him. "You suit. Look at you! You're pathetic!". He turned back to the bar and noticed that his glass was filled yet again....on to number 3. Shit even the bartender knew his routine by now.  And yet he realized after all these weeks of coming in to the same exact bar at the same exact barstool for the same exact lunch hour, that he didnt even know her name. Yep, that was him. another fuckin bitter Suit living the same fuckin routine and caring even less than the Suit before him to learn the poor girls name.

But that was it. He had chosen this and maybe he was careless and bitter, but he had become accoustomed to his same-ole same-ole routine. Actually the thought of no routine and less money did nothing for him. He kept his "fake celebrity" memories tucked away for hard days like these. He realized that he would never be as happy as he might have been back then. But this was it. This was who he was. As he slugged his way through number three, he watched the other suits slowly leaving the hive to go back to their respective offices to call their wives and lovers, carouse their facebooks and twitters, and stare aimlessly out their big fancy windows at the November wrath that came at the close of every season. He finished it down to the drop and paid his tab. As the bartender came over he thought quickly about catching her name, but convinced his ego it would be a waste of time and that she didnt matter. If she wasnt there to pour his drinks someone else would be. He got up from the stool and threw his suit jacket back on, staightened his tie, and with a deep breath, he headed back up the elevator to his life.

The Perfect Moment

And as they stood there, listening to the swell of the ocean crash over the bay, the dynamic of the weather accelerating their own desires, the moon high in the early October sky, she wondered; is this how it's supposed to feel?

They listened to the hush of the night settle into the darkness. She could feel her heart beating faster and faster. She wondered if it was wrong to have the emotions run though her mind, the thought of what could be consumed her. She couldn't deny the envy of the pictures racing through her brain. Then the doubt began to settle in. Was she out here on this limb alone?

The sky, like a flickering candle, slowly brightened as the minutes passed. The warm wind whistling through their scene as if it were slightly imposing on their space. She felt his hand touch her face ever so gently as he pushed the hair from her eyes. As they stood there cautiously but purposely entangled, the moment drew closer.

With every word he seemed to lean closer and closer as if he was daring her lips to brush his, she could feel him breathe and was overwhelmed by his warmth and scent. The pheromones racing like electric bolts between her, she anticipated. Though the thought still remained, was this a manifest of her own desire...she then felt scared but comforted at the same time.

All it took was one look for him to see inside her soul, into the depths that she had never felt anyone reach before. The part of your soul that leaves you so vulnerable you could burst into tears. She shyed away from the moment in fear that her intent was too transparent. And then she realized and wondered if that was it, and if she had let the perfect moment pass her by....