Archives for category: kristen

He filled my glass with water. Simple act. Huge realization.

This story draws similarities between my interaction with the individuals I work for and a personal internal struggle with relationships.

I had probably hung out with this guy three times. Sitting at dinner with friends. I asked where the water jug was, because I needed some water. Waitress came by and dropped off the jug. I didn’t notice. He picked up my cup and filled my cup before I could reach for it. His cup was full. He was being nice.

The adapted from experiences in 2007 – 2009 independent side of me did not twinge.

I thought about it the next day. Called my mom, told her the story and then almost cried. I didn’t almost cry because of the 13 corn dog ingestion pain. I twinged because it said so much about me, that I was struck dumb by his simple act. I won’t blame men in this situation, believe me, I tried.

What Kristen would have said last year, “Men are crude and insensitive, glass pourer guy is a rarity.”

Kristen this year, “Why would I like a man that doesn’t offer anything less than sensitivity, strength and ambition? What on earth have I been doing?”

Don’t even get me started on what this story would imply (albeit true) if I had been speaking of a ‘capital h’ him and not a regular him.

Setting up an email account. Simple act. Huge realization.

Small things for these guys in my life make each day. I don’t consider this work. This is my life. This is a blessed life.

K

Now. That just means I’m old.

As four different bones pop in my lower back from rising after ridiculing my parents for the Netflix account being inactive due to non payment… It was a joke. They have helped me so much lately with financial issues. I wanted to bring some levity to the situation. They just wanted me to hack into their Netflix account and fix it with the correct debit card. Yup.

I have a crush on a roller blading, beard sporting, hippie man traveling Europe. Yah, things have changed since college.

I now count the bones that pop and crush on men with the ability to travel the world, grow facial hair and simultaneously make me laugh till I can’t see.

Thanks Peepaw and Poopaw for not making me cry when I had the “due to non payment” issues. Thank you for teaching me how to put up with my brother that you help in the same way but definitely does not show his appreciation in the same way. Thank you for helping me understand that I was just like my sister at her age.

I was worse than her. Probably. If I was any better at 14 – I will rant about parenthood in a second – it was because of the community I was surrounded by.

The community that surrounds me now is no less perfect. These men have become role models for me. Role models I needed in my life. Sure, they’ve made poor decisions. But these former gang members, drug addicts and felons are more men to me then the tall, dreamy, overly muscular man that gives me back handed compliments. The men in my community are genuine, honest and treasure me. They have no idea how much they have changed my life.

Parenthood. You be crazy.

I’ll sustain from the rant on the “holier than thou” women that grace the pages of my news feed on a regular basis. (Starting to take a tally of wedding, engagement, baby, husband mentions… per day.) Let’s just talk about WTF you do when they turn 12. Hell, what do you do when your kid turns 25? You don’t think about those difficult discussions or heart wrenching moments when their two months old.

Have a kid. Learn how to get two hours of sleep a night and still be an awesome mom. Nothing will prepare you for 25 years from now when they need you to guide them spiritually, hand over expert financial advice and encourage them to leap for their ludicrous dreams. It’s not a kid you’re committing to. It’s a lifetime.

Thank you Anne. Thank you Bob. For sticking together and sticking with me.

I’m not anti-kids. And I’m on the path to convincing myself that I’m not anti-men/dating/boyfriend/husband. However, it’s going to take much more than an urge for cuddling while watching How I Met Your Mother and drinking a Shiner for me to legitimize the expense of a relationship with a high stakes man. They’re all high stakes.

K

Holy crap. Ran into a much larger issue than I thought I had.

Bigger than the equator of hope versus realism. And bigger than the idea that military men are the ultimate subconscious achievement.

Recently dominated a man. Not in a dominatrix way, but in every other way unfortunately. It felt great. I felt empowered. I felt strong.

Reflecting back with my friend that holds me accountable? My domination was an effort to recover from a previous abuse. An abuse that still has an affect on me despite my best attempts to convince myself that I’m better than okay.

I would go on here to explain how sorry I felt for this poor guy, but in all honesty, I don’t think he has a clue. He’s thinking that this is me. That I’m this aggressive, no holds bar, out of the box. In some instances, I am. But I’m afraid my impression upon this man (and myself) was that of strength.

I am shielding a very old weakness with a veil of strength.

K

Between guarding yourself from disappointment and letting yourself hope in kindness.

Falling asleep at night praying for the wisdom to be a good judge of character after hearing a nightmare of a story from a friend. She loved him. He had a penchant for telling stories. Dramatic, thought out, extremely detailed lies that covered his beyond forgivable indiscretions.

How do you go about putting yourself out there after hearing that?!

This month was supposed to be no regrets, trust your heart, have a friggin ball of a month. Now I find myself analyzing every text, hugging pillows tight and getting cranky at good natured joking. Poor guy. He has no idea how far the self-sabotaging me will go. Holy Kouk, I don’t even know.

These thoughts of bungee cording backward from the charismatic, thoughtful, intuitive new man started after a story. So I’m here, but do I leap or do I dodge.

K

Never thought those words would describe a home for me. They used to describe a literal home for me in California, a time which I now reflect upon with mixed feelings.

Worst year of my life? Personally, yes. I struggled with so many aspects of love, life, right, wrong, self. My time in Carlsbad made me who I am today, therefore, it couldn’t have been all pain.

I gained wisdom. I’ll never put myself in a similar situation. Everything happens for a reason.

So why is it when I’m reunited with those eagle, globe and anchor men, that I feel more at home then I do at the local bar I frequent on weeknights? Am I some masochistic memory forgetter? Why would I be attracted to something that killed so much only a few years earlier? Is it a matter of familiarity? I highly doubt it’s a matter of feeling secure as that was the polar opposite of my experience. So perhaps it reminds me of how strong I am?

Surrounding myself with people that remind me of a tough time in my life may just be my personal subconcious pep talk… look how far you’ve come. Take it, don’t take it.

K

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