Take Two

I spent almost a year after my last breakup picking up the pieces of myself and trying to piece is back together.
First loves can be the hardest, because it’s the first time you let your inhibitions go and truly allow yourself to love someone else.
You let another person become an enormous part of your life.
You show them your flaws, your fears, your hopes, and your aspirations.
You’ll change together, explore together, and grow together.
You become inexplicable parts of each other’s lives, yet you still haven’t lost that child-like naivety, nor have your learned to be guarded.
Sometimes, they become such a large part of your life that losing them is almost like losing a part of yourself.

I spent months pouring over the broken pieces of my relationship, trying to make sense of the wreckage in front of me and fit it together like pieces of a puzzle.
I wanted to know why it didn’t work and what was wrong with me.
The thought that he was perfect and I was flawed haunted me.
I would sit there examining all the broken pieces, hoping that overanalyzing and over-thinking would somehow help me piece it together.
I now know that some things can never be fixed, and sometimes, people just aren’t meant to be together.

First loves are often romanticized.
They’re supposed to be innocent and child-like; where we enact what we’ve read about and listened to and watched in movies, in our own lives.
Our hearts flutter when we first brush hands.
We walk on air when we get that first kiss.
We leap into the abyss of love and have no notion of fear of the danger that comes with not being caught.

I once read in a book that falling in love is like riding a bike.
The author and his wife saw a couple riding and holding hands.
He commented that it was dangerous.
She replied that “They’re in love, and love is dangerous.”
While there is truth in that sentence, there is also some error.
Because the ride isn’t what hurts, but the crash.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love.
No, falling in love is a wonderful thing.
It’s the falling out of love that’s dangerous.

The crash happening in the middle of the ride is similar to my first love.
It caused an excessive amount of fear and doubt, and resulted in my staying away from even the slightest notion of emotion for anyone.
I was so afraid of getting hurt that I would flee before there was any chance of that.
My only concern was to protect my heart at all costs.
Getting back on the bike the second time is similar to falling for someone the second time.
Really falling.
Knowing all the risks involved, you rid yourself of your fears and just let your gut feeling take over.

My first love is always going to be bittersweet.
And while there is a lot to be said about first loves, there’s something even more beautiful about falling in love again.
Because the second time we fall, we are well aware of the risks attached.
We have our scars as constant reminders of our wounds, and yet we make the conscious decision to fall anyway.
We put aside our incessant fears and qualms, and simply let our hearts take over.

As nostalgic as your first love can make you, I truly don’t even think it can compare to the second.
There is just something absolutely magical about the person who coaxes you out of the shell of protection that you had buried yourself in.
There is something absolutely undeniable about the person who make you feel safe for the first time in so long.
There is something absolutely breath-taking about the way a person can make you believe in love all over again.

Blank Space

There’s a scar right beneath his left eye, and that’s where my eyes always land first.
It’s because I’m always examining him for scars, for clues, for stories about his life that happen to be written on his face.
It’s because we’re always so close, barely more than a foot is ever between us.
In the newest, earliest stages of a relationship, isn’t that how it goes?
You’re so eager for the other person, that even when they’re sitting right next to you, it feels incredibly far.
Too far.
Come closer, always.

I’m looking for these things because I’m learning him, feeling out his history, every time we kiss and every time we touch.
It’s easy to find these things out with whispered questions and conversations over drinks and dinner, but I like it just the same when he reveals it to me without words.
I go looking for it myself, seeking out all the stories and feelings that are hidden in his body.
His eyes are always searching mine, like he’s looking as far into me as he can, searching and searching in the hours we spend all tangled up.
He’s figuring me out, maybe.
The intensity of that light brown gaze is more intimate than anything else.
It’s so much more intimate than sex, which is just a rearranging of parts that don’t even require feeling; I’ve spent plenty of nights with boys that way.
Not one of them has ever really looked at me like this, and it’s a little scary to be so closely scrutinized.
His eyes are steady, calm, and clear.
He probably doesn’t know that everything he’s thinking is reflected in them.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m feeling things solely to write about them later; if I’m thinking too hard about what’s happening and how I can shape it with words.
I do this all the time, and it becomes hard for me to get out of my own head.
Because when you’re falling for me, or when I’m feeling any sort of emotion for you, it’s going to end up in words.
That’s just what I do; that’s just the way I am.
I don’t feel anything that I don’t use somehow in my writing, and sometimes I don’t even notice I’m absorbing everything until it comes out of my hands and onto the page.

But what I do know is when I woke up this morning, everything was different.
I’m a notoriously fitful sleeper, waking with every creek and footstep.
I’m still adjusting to a new body in bed.
I have to shift my sleep patterns to accommodate someone else, as easy as he might be.
Although that’s the thing- I woke up this morning and everything felt easy, natural.
I woke up with an arm around me, pulling me close.
I woke up to forehead and shoulder kisses.
I opened my eyes, glanced across the sheets, and his were already open, looking at my messy sleep face like I was Christmas morning.
It was blessedly simply.

I don’t know what he’s looking to find in me, not yet.
I don’t know what he’s searching for in my eyes in those intense moments of silence.
But I’m looking forward to figuring it out.

Starting Over

Relationships are scary.
We all wish and daydream and hope and pray for that fantasy relationship, but once you’re dating someone, you realize that being in a relationship requires a lot of work.
They’re hard.
You have to learn how to take care of someone else, when for the longest time you only ever cared about yourself.

So there you are, stuck in a relationship you enjoyed being in a year ago.
You know it’s over.
All the signs are crystal clear.
Where has the time gone?
There used to be butterflies, and inside jokes, and constant hand-holding, and random kisses.
What the hell happened?
Oh yeah…
The bickering, the fighting, the jealousy, the insecurities, the making up, the not getting along, the not like each other’s friends, and then finally, the broken hearts.

After this cycle, you promise yourself not to be with anyone else again.
Not ever.
You tell yourself that absolutely no amount of love is worth feeling that amount of pain.
It’s not worth the risk; it’s not worth taking a chance on.
Never again will you open up to someone.
Never again will you give your body, heart, and soul to someone.
Never again will you let someone see all the complicated and dark parts you try so hard to hide from the world.
Never again will you go out of your way and make the effort to see someone.
Never again will you let someone in.
Never again will you love someone.

At least that’s what you think.
Until you meet someone else who makes your heart flutter.

And when you meet someone after a terrible heartbreak, you promise yourself that you’re going to treat this differently.
You’ll take it slow.
You won’t let him get too close.
You’ll hide parts of yourself that people had once so recklessly taken for granted.
But for what?
The best part about being with someone is being able to be yourself; to be vulnerable and open and goofy and honest.

Here are the seven reasons I broke down my walls and decided to give love another chance:

He or she misses out on you.
You are an amazing person, whether some people disagree or not.
You’re funny and exciting and sarcastic and kind.
You’re passionate and have a big heart.
You love watching football on Sundays while tossing back a few beers.
You like to sing obnoxiously to your favorite songs.
You enjoy getting dolled up and going out with your friends.
Don’t let your next significant other miss out on opportunities to be with the real you.
Be yourself.
If people like you for you, you’ll know.

You’ll miss out on love.
When you hold yourself back, you’re giving up on love.
Being afraid to open up to someone is normal.
We’re born reserved; we don’t go up to people and tell them our secrets and insecurities; our life stories.
But allowing someone in, letting someone to see the most vulnerable and raw parts of you, is absolutely beautiful.
It’s what life and love is all about.

You will never get to know him or her.
People aren’t stupid.
If you aren’t into them, they can feel it.
If you have a wall up, they’ll reciprocate and put a wall up, too.
Take the risk; open up to the other person so you can give him or her a chance to open up to you.
There is nothing more important than being with someone who is willing to grow with you each day.

When you’re finally ready, it might be too late.
“It’s too late.”
Those words can be harsh.
Those words can hit you right in the heart.
Those are words you never want to hear.
There are so many things you can blame the other person for if the relationship doesn’t work, but if you’re constantly afraid and going backwards or stuck in the same spot, he or she will become tired, disinterested, and move on.
Without you.

You’ll eventually be unhappy.
Keeping your true self away from someone you care about can take a toll on you in the long run.
You’ll get used to being so reserved and confined that it will be the only way you know.
You don’t want to end up being scared to open up to your significant other when you finally realize you are ready to be yourself.
Don’t let your last relationship ruin the possibility of being happy with someone else.

You won’t experience the real definition of adventure.
You want to be with someone who is spontaneous and exciting, right?
You want to experience new places and new feelings?
You don’t want to be alone anymore?
Think outside of your box.
Step out of your comfort zone.
Let someone in.
Yeah, it’s a whole lot easier said than done, but take a chance on someone new.
If he or she is willing to give you their all, you should do the same.
It might be the best decision you’ll ever make.

You won’t learn anything new about yourself.
Being in relationships, good or bad, only teaches you more about who you are.
It shows what you like, love, dislike, hate, don’t care for, can’t stand, crave, and won’t put up with.
Take what you’ve learned in past relationships and put it into your new one.
If it’s anything positive, great.
If it’s negative, that’s great too.
Either way, you’ll know exactly how to steer away from that negative and turn it into something positive.
Keep in mind that it might not work out with everyone.
That doesn’t mean you should give up on finding your soulmate.
Forget about the past.
It’s behind you for a reason.
Don’t dwell.
Don’t overanalyze.
Cry your tears, throw away the pictures, and move on.
If it didn’t work out with someone, there’s someone else waiting to make you happy.
Just remember that you don’t want to cheat the next person out of getting to know the full experience of you.

Love is Like Riding a Bike

Falling in love is like riding a bike.
No, seriously.
You do it once, and you simply never forget how it went.
Motor memory.
Engrained.
You get on your bike, you pedal, and you propel forward.
Predictable.
Easy.

Until it’s not.

As predictable as motor memory may be, it’s as fragile as the rest of us.
Those neural pathways can be disrupted.
They can break.
Our ability to love can break, too.

Sometimes we go so long on our own that we no longer remember quite what it’s like to put ourselves out there, to open up to another person and expose that vulnerability we so desperately shield.

Sometimes we simply stop seeking those needs from others.
Those needs of love, comfort, and loyalty.
Sometimes we decide we do not need them at all.

Eventually though, we realize we’re wrong.

Eventually, we realize we’ve dug ourselves into a bit of a rut.
How do I do this again?
Do I even want to do this again?
I don’t recall it going great the first few times around.

So we try.
Awkwardly, cautiously, and anything but whole-heartedly.
And we fail.
Face-plant.
Back out.

But we grow, too.

The thing with learning how to love again is that it’s a continuous process.
Did you learn how to ride a bike on your very first try?
Probably not.
You probably started with training wheels; cautious and afraid.
Eventually you made the transition and the commitment to two-wheels.
And you fell.
Over and over and over.
You scraped your knees, you scraped your elbows, and you were undoubtedly tempted to give up.

But then you got behind those handlebars one day and you pedaled and pedaled…
You just kept going.
We decide we want to get back out there, or at least stop loathing the idea of dating again.

So we begin with our little training wheels fastened securely to our heart.
We grow in time, with patience, and with practice.
We hurt a few people in the process.
And we hurt ourselves, too.

There’s no saying you’ll ever ride that bike again.
Maybe you don’t want to.
Maybe it’s not time.
Maybe it’s just not in the cards for you no matter how many attempts you give it.

But you try.

They say everything comes with practice.
I don’t know whether or not I believe them, but I do believe that practice creates growth.
It pushes our boundaries and it strengthens our spirit.
You don’t need to learn how to ride a bike.
You don’t need to try to love, to date, to put yourself out there.
There are no requirements in this life.
Simply opportunities.

But don’t let the fear of falling prevent you from taking that first pedal.
We’re all a little broken.
We’re all a little rusty.
We’re all a little scared if we’re being perfectly honest with ourselves.

But we’re all a little human..

Love doesn’t always fall into place.
It doesn’t always work itself out.
Sometimes we have to work towards it.
Baby steps.
Training wheels.
Broadening our own acceptance of love while working to emit it ourselves.

Live isn’t a fairytale.
Life is a six-year-old on a bike making twelve mistakes before finally getting it right.

11 Things You Need to Know Before Dating an Independent Girl

1. We need alone time.
   A little each day. And more than a little on other days. It doesn’t mean we’ve lost interest in you. It just means that I enjoy my time to myself.

   2. We don’t mind if you don’t call or text us every second.
   We like it. But we won’t be constantly contacting you either. That said, if you’re late or like to keep me guessing, I’ll make other plans.

   3. We can clean up our own messes.
   We’re not waiting for you to fix all of our problems. In fact, I wouldn’t even want you to.

   4. If we go to a party where it’s mostly your friends, I don’t need you hovering.
   I’m perfectly capable of chatting it up with endless amounts of strangers. I’ll even enjoy it. But don’t completely forget about me either, as you’re probably my favorite person in the room.

   5. We are comfortable paying our own way.
   We don’t mind splitting restaurant bills. We don’t mind covering the cost of the movie tickets. In fact, it makes us feel like we don’t owe you anything. We never expect you to pay for us or buy us gifts. If it’s not my birthday, you’re good.

   6. If you want to go watch football or go to happy hour with your friends, we’re cool with that.
   Actually, we prefer it. It gives us a chance to catch up with our own friends or spend the night catching up on our independent interests. Then the next time we see each other, we’ll have stories to tell.

   7. The idea of getting married sounds great with the right person.
   But we’re perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves. We’re perfectly fine with the idea of going through life without a partner. We choose to be in a relationship with you because we like you, not because we can’t live without you.

   8. We like to fix things ourselves. We like to change our own lightbulbs, open our own jars, and get things off of high shelves.
   Even if you’re way stronger and taller and could do it in half the time with half the effort.

   9. We can be stubborn and hard-headed about handling things a certain way, even if you’ve been there before and are simply offering advice.
   Forgive us. Let us try it out way first, even if your intentions are good.

   10. At times, we may seem so self-reliant, content, and in control of our lives that you may wonder whether you’re needed.
   You are. We’re confident and directed, but we cherish someone who appreciates, rather than fears, these qualities.

   11. We still love a big hug, affection, and to be told how cute we are.
   Tell us we look pretty in our new dress every now and then. And don’t let us shrug it off, because we will try to. Independence will never trump the desire to feel adored.

How It Feels to Fall for You

I’m falling for you, and I haven’t yet hit the ground.
Although, I feel it’s inevitable.

Sometimes I catch you looking at me.
Not in a creepy, unsettling way, but definitely a lustful way.
You want me, and I know it.
It’s as if you’re thirsty for my gaze.
As if that one connected second defines more than just physical attraction, but a longing for something more.
You look at me like you want my mind and my stories and my passion and my quirks and my heart, too.

You made a fumbling play for my heart, and you got in.
You got me.
Your persistence doesn’t go unnoticed.
You manners aren’t overlooked.
Your kind words have never been taken for granted.

You surprise me.
You’re unpredictable in the best way.
I’ve never felt something like this.
Spontaneity and security aren’t words that are supposed to mesh together so well, but somehow you make it happen.

I just want to know everything about you.
From your biggest fears to your relationship with your parents to you wildest dreams, I want to know everything and anything in-between.
Give me the dirty details; I’ll like you even more, I promise.

I melt every time you make the point to kiss my nose/cheeks/forehead/shoulders/fingers at the most random moments.
You smile literally kills me, much like the tone of your voice and the goosebumps that creep up your arms whenever I leave a trail of kisses along your tattoos.
Your goofy, yet adorable laugh is delicious.

Falling for you feels like my heart could explode at any second.
You’ll never understand the shockwave that hits my body when you tell me you can’t get enough of me, or that you can’t get over how cute I am, or when you’re laying in bed, arms stretched out, anxiously awaiting my fall into them.
It’s all so simple, yet so powerful.
Every shockwave is like a wakeup call reminding me that this is the real deal.
Like this could turn into something great.

Even as I take this fall towards you, I’m fearful.
I’m fearful because once I’m finally done falling, you could destroy me.
You could throw my heart out the window and simply fly away.
I’m taking a risk with you though, because you’re not the safe choice.
The rest of your life is going to go a million miles an hour, and you could decide to walk at any moment, leaving me running away from the pain of heartbreak once again.

But you know what?
It feels fucking exhilarating, because now that I’m falling for you, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
This is how it should feel to fall for someone.
I should catch myself smiling just thinking about you.
I should want to talk about you to all of my friends.
I should daydream and look forward to the next time I’ll get to see you again.
It’s worth the risk.
And hell, if those moments of bliss don’t make you want to put everything into a person, you’ll find yourself catching your footing before you hit the ground anyways.