my soul mates

You know you have good girlfriends when they cyber stalk your enemies for you.

There are certain things you don't want to know, or don't want to actually do.

But having your best friends do the dirty work for you it's suddenly wildly different when they chime in, Oh I know what they said, here let me tell you...

I laughed because there was no point in me even trying to stop her, she was going to read me what was posted and by the time I formed the words, No I don't wanna know, she was already half way through the paragraph she was reading aloud. 

And you know, after I knew what it said, I was kinda glad.

The reason the quote reads The truth shall set you free is because the truth does, in fact, set you free. 

That's why it's actually really fantastic to know it. 

A friend of mine I used to talk to nearly every day went dark and I had no idea what was going on with him. 

Was he hurt? 

Was he depressed?

Did he hate me?

But he'd never write me back.

And the not knowing part drove me bananas.

So I cyber stalked him, as good friends do, and I saw that a picture I had posted to his wall had been deleted. 

He'd had time to delete my loving post but never texted me back.

Oh. HELL. No.

Not cool. 

Not okay in any way, shape or form.

So I wrote him again, confronting him for doing that and asking if he didn't want to be friends anymore and I finally heard from him. 

And I'm still pissed he missed my birthday and blew me off for so long but at least knowing the truth, I realized it had nothing to do with me. 

People forget that most of the time it actually has nothing to do with you. 

Or me. 

It's all about them and all their shit. 

But for all the people who don't make time for you, who don't text you back, who block and delete you, there are the oh so wonderful dear ones, who support you completely, who defend you and uplift you, who bring you food and wine when they come over because they know you didn't go to the store, who stalk your enemies and ex boyfriends and let you know what you're not missing, and they are the lights of my life, the sanity to my sheer madness. 

And I wouldn't trade time with them for the world. 

Takeaway this, bitch

This week was the second time in the last month I've felt like a territorial big sister ready to kick the ass of some bitch who done wrong my friend.

Snatches can snatch all they want with me. 

Wait. That sounds wrong. 

That's not what I meant.

But pick on one of my soul sisters and I just want to walk up to you and punch you in the vagina. 

You heard me, you self righteous cunts.

My girlfriend had a girlfriend and at first she was excited about her. 

But as what happens with dating my friend discovered their compatibility was not what she had believed it to be. 

That fucking happens.

It's a natural part of dating. 

We meet. 

We click.

We lust.

Maybe we love.

And then we either stop loving or never leave each other the hell alone. 

I should write Hallmark cards.

My problem with the dick of a woman aggravating my friend is, their relationship was already open.

From the get go, there was a supposed acceptance and understanding of where the other was at, the newness, the uncertainty.

The page they were on was I really dig you, let's see where this goes, knowing we each have the freedom to explore with other partners. 

But time reveals all things, and time showed the girl to be a rather self involved partner and the over indulgence waned on my friend and she doubted their connection. 

And even though they started out supposedly in this place of open acceptance she bombarded and accosted my friend with verbal diarrhea calling her a narcissist.

Hey. Bitchy Mcbitcherson.

My friend is not a narcissist just because she doesn't want to put up with your shit.

I remember when she first met you. 

And how every atom in my body was thinking RUN cuz you be a crazy hoe.

And I knew that long before my friend got mixed up in all this.

The only narcissist in your relationships is YOU. 

It's why your breakups always turn out the way they do.

It's why your presumptive email made me want to reach through the Internet and bitch slap you til you cried like a male virgin.

My friend is a pearl.

She's fucking amazing. 

And sometimes people date and it doesn't work out. 

At least she communicated openly and honestly with you about where she was at. 

You didn't need to be so damn impolite just because she didn't want you.

I hope you feel like a giant asshole for a long time because no one you've slept with likes you.

And the next time you mess with my friend I'm coming after you and karate chopping your ass.

Love, Resa

Fuck with my friends and I'll fuck with you.

And we all know, I fuck harder.

insomnia

I made Marvin a cup of coffee this morning. 

I don't think he understands that's as domestic as I get. 

Or that I haven't been that domestic in four years. 

It's really fucking weird.

Don't get me wrong. 

A relationship is great. 

I mean, hell, that's why I've endured all the ridiculous dates and ridiculous sex over the years. 

The ultimate goal is a relationship.

Isn't it?

But in the middle of the night I got up to use the restroom and then wandered into the living room to find my cat, Cartier, sleeping on the couch.

My cat hates men. 

Fucking HATES them. 

Girls, he snuggles up beside. 

But there's a man in our place and he gets all territorial like, I'm the only male who gets on that bed, asshole.

So I sat next to him on the couch and petted him. 

I miss you, I whispered. 

There's this great, sexy guy asleep in my bed and I'm in the living room talking to my cat.

Typical Reese, 

Somewhere there's a shrink speculating that sums up all my relationship problems right there. 

Or maybe not. 

I climbed back into bed and looked at him sleeping. 

I curled up next to him and smiled as I looked out the window.

I was in some foreign land, some alternate reality, where I had what I wanted and yet a part of me doubted it. 

A part of me still wanted to run away, to sleep on the couch with Cartier. 

To just be alone. 

I like my life alone.

It is lovely sharing it with someone. 

But it is foreign to me. 

At least like this.

Intimacy is a wonderful, terrifying, extraordinary and unpredictable thing.

Tonight I get to sleep in my giant bed alone.

With Cartier curled up by my side. 

And I am grateful. 

But I know the next night he comes over it won't feel quite as foreign. 

And maybe one night I'll even forget what it felt like when I preferred sleeping alone.

I can't imagine that. 

But I guess anything is possible, isn't it?

Dear Matthew

Marvin texted me tonight.

And he wrote, If that's what you want, that's what you'll get.

And I don't know why, but I suddenly thought of you.

And after our first date, when we were planning the next one, you wrote, Whatever the lady wants.

Remember that?

Back when you were excited to see me?

When after every kiss you exhaled the word Fuuuuck because you couldn't believe how great it was.  

Just kissing me. 

That all was so long ago.

Back when Sheldon and I used to rock climb every week.

Back when my career was selling jewelry. 

Back when I wanted to be famous on YouTube. 

But everything in your grey little world crumbled around you and then it was no longer about what the lady wanted. 

I never got what I wanted again after you left the theatre in your tux, my red lipstick smeared all over your face. 

And that was nine months ago. 

Isn't that crazy?

Your profile picture is still the photo I took of you. 

And the last photo you posted on IG was six months ago, that photo of our bridge. 

It bothered me for months. 

And then I realized I should just feel special. 

You don't post anything often. 

But when you do, it means something. 

I thought of you, too, because when I was trying to reconcile you said to me, It shouldn't be this hard.

And I hated you for saying that because it was only so hard because we never saw each other. 

But you know what?

Then I met Marvin, and it's been nothing but simple. 

There is no drama and no misunderstandings. 

He likes me and he thinks I'm a babe. 

And he says it. 

And you know all those nights you would never come over because there was just something else more pressing than being in my arms?

He always makes time for me. 

Christmas Eve he drove forty minutes just to see me for a couple hours after even seeing me the day before and I don't think I've felt more loved all year. 

The only time you ever gave me was in between everything else. 

Remember how you'd fit me in and give me an hour of your time?

You were right. 

It shouldn't have been so hard. 

Because when you're compatible with someone you can't wait to be in their arms again. 

They aren't your last priority. 

He was gone for two weeks and seeing me is his agenda his second night being home. 

You would never have done that. 

And then you'd make me feel guilty for needing to see you. 

Marvin's as impatient to see me again as I am to see him. 

And we were never like that. 

And I didn't understand. 

Because I felt so crazy about you. 

And I so desperately wanted us to be something real. 

Because you did come hear me sing.

And you were moved to kiss me. 

And I thought that was love. 

But that's all we had. 

That one magic moment. 

When I thought my life was a fairytale. 

And now I have something so delightfully ordinary. 

And I have never felt more beautiful. 

And more like myself in a very long time.

I'm worth his time. 

And that's already more than you ever gave me. 

My darling. 

You thought it was me, but you got our story entirely wrong. 

The only thing complicated about it 

Was you.

And I could never do anything about that. 

May your current lover,

And the coming year,

Be full of magic and wonder and inspiration. 

And simplicity. 

Gorgeous, perfect, simple love. 

the ones who got away

What if you just tell him that you're crazy? That's what I do. Then he knows.

If women were honest with the men they dated, this would be the first thing we'd tell them.

Hi. I have a propensity for over reacting and being hyper sensitive and generally my way of dealing with it is acting out in ways that reassure and validate me but generally will piss you the hell off so if you could just make sure to always text me back and tell me I'm pretty we should be fine.

I think I just wrote my Tinder self description.

The truth seems to grow increasingly more complicated as we get older. 

I kind of miss the days when the only thing I cared about with a guy was what bands he listened to. 

We had no fucking clue how simple things were back then.

My girlfriend got dumped on New Years. 

Can you imagine?

What idiot is like, I know, I'll plan an evening with my gal, take her to dinner and then right after wishing her a happy new year, ask, Do you think we're compatible?

What a cotton headed ninny muggins.

Hey buddy.

You're the one that wanted to be exclusive with my friend, remember?

You're the one whose tooooootally not cute enough to be with her.

Timing, good sir, could have reduced your epic shit show.

So we did what all women do when some idiot does us wrong-we roasted the hell out of him.

I tried to watch Sherlock with him and ten minutes in he's like, I don't really like this.

'Whaaa?? Dump him immediately. It's over! Who doesn't like Sherlock?

And with such simple reasoning what else is there to even consider?

But as we talked late into the night it was really more than that. 

Any rejection, even if it's from a guy you know isn't right for you, is still a rejection. 

And my friend didn't understand why people you share a connection, an intimacy with, so easily can just cut you out. 

So you are no longer a part of the story of their life. 

And it rang true to my own heartache. 

But the thing is, we don't have that many hours in that many days. 

And we're older and have things we want to do and things we're obligated to do and the amount of time we have for relationships is limited. 

Nobody ever wants to think about that. 

But you can't stay friends with everyone. 

Because everyone would require more energy than you possess. 

What you can do, is adore and cherish the ones who do make time for you, who do love you enough to want you in their story. 

And it fucking sucks there are always going to be people who don't think you're compatible or don't see the point in meeting for coffee and there is nothing, absofuckinlutely nothing you can do to change them. 

But I do believe when we are rejected by one, one lover or girlfriend, someone who doesn't dig our quirks or delight in our eccentricities, it opens this tiny window for someone else to step in and fill their place. 

And you hate admitting that's okay because there's actually enough love in your heart that it could be anyone. 

It doesn't have to be them. 

Even if you wanted to believe that. 

People enter and depart and the trickiest part is allowing yourself the openness to be vulnerable with them. 

And then the forgiveness to completely let them go when they never return your texts again. 

No relationship is forever. 

Because something, willingly or not, will always tear you apart. 

So while they are here, each darling kindred, hold onto every moment. 

And rejoice when there's suddenly new room in your life for someone even more right for every ounce of crazy dancing through you. 

high on honesty

I started 2016 being incredibly fucking brave.

See, dating this era has turned into a convoluted vague cluster fuck. 

No one has any idea what anyone is doing and that makes us all run around and do incredibly crazy shit as a reaction to not knowing what the fuck is going on.

Or maybe you just sit at home watching Netflix, chill, and I'm the one acting out.

I like this guy.

I'm in serious like.

But the kid blowing up my phone isn't the one I'm in like with.

But not knowing where you stand with someone makes it easy to do anything with anyone because what they don't know won't make me have to deal with it. 

That's the way I handled The Phantom and his inability to make time to see me. 

I went out with someone else. 

And what happened?

The Phantom got butt hurt about it and didn't want to see me anymore. 

There were a ton of crazy circumstances and we all know things didn't really end with that conversation at East Burn.

But my assumption about where I stood with him led me to seek validation elsewhere and that was ultimately our downfall.

How the fuck was I supposed to know?

Cut to now, and I feel my instincts kicking in and my urge is to go out with the kid blowing up my phone because that seems easier than wondering where I stand with the guy who hypnotized me with the Like.

And something in me decides, No.

Fuck it.

I want to know where I stand. 

And once I do, I can decide what I want and don't want and that, rather than reacting, should be what drives me away or closer to him. (Or hims).

So I ask if we're seeing other people and he writes I am not seeing anyone else.

And maybe this seems like such a simple question to you, but in my experience, it has often opened the door for a cavalcade of chaotic confusion and expectation and it frankly seems easier to ignore it than ask about it. 

The Phantom told me we were dating exclusively after two weeks and then I immediately didn't see him for 25 days.

You can understand that's made me a little averse to labeling anything quickly. 

But the thought of going on a date with someone else made me feel a little guilty, like what if the object of my Like saw us together. 

What would he think?

So in spite of my slight paranoia I asked to see where he was at. 

And it turns out we're on the same page. 

And I immediately texted the guy I didn't really want to go out with again and told him I was seeing someone. 

Because apparently I am. 

And that's kind of fantastic. 

And when he gets back in town he wants to see me again. 

Cuz you know, when someone likes you, they make time to see you. 

And I forgot how that one simple thing, time, can change everything. 

Happy New Year, You

I don't remember what I did last New Year's.

Not because I was so raging drunk I blacked out and don't remember my epic night. 

Because I just don't remember. 

It's a holiday, like St. Patrick's Day, or President's Day, that doesn't instill in me a very strong reaction. 

I'm not really sure why, though I suppose it's because, growing up the month already had my birthday, my brother's birthday and Jesus' birthday.

So by the time we got to the Year's birthday, it was like, eh whatever. 

I like champagne and fireworks but I don't really need to kiss someone at midnight.

If the tradition was fucking someone at midnight, that would be a different story. 

I do like the idea of a clean slate, though.

A new story.

Blank pages. 

The unknown slowly unfolding. 

It's strange we only think about that happening in January when the entire year is a different story falling together each day. 

A girlfriend and I were talking about soul mates, about the idea that there is one person out there for us. 

And we decided the idea that there was only one was absurd. 

This past year I loved several different men. 

In different ways, to varying degrees.

But I would have done anything for each of them.

And that wasn't feigned affection, that was my genuine heart.

The idea of loving more than one person when I was younger would have shocked me. 

I believed love to be so black and white then. 

But the thing is, love, the kind of love that isn't purely selfish, changes and shifts, it listens to the object of its desire. 

And I don't think I ever stop loving any one of them. 

I just learn to store the unreciprocated love and let my heart freely adore another. 

It's a rather beautiful cycle. 

Loss. 

And then something new is discovered. 

And in very rare cases, certain loves never leave you. 

They always remember to wish you a happy new year. 

Some loves are the only ones who text you at midnight.

And that one connection, for that one moment, is enough to remind you, that love exists. 

In quiet corners, on quiet nights. 

Some loves never end.

Their story simply rewrites itself to find its place in every new chapter. 

Book Three.

Hello 2016.