Who does she think she is?

I wasn't planning on discussing Sk8er Boi here again, but that was before he announced on Facebook that he's in a relationship now. Not only did they go "Facebook public", but he actually posted about how it might upset people because he said he wasn't going to date anyone for awhile but he is and he cares about her.

I actually think he was talking to me.

And guess what? I was a little upset. Less than two months after he ended things with me because he wasn't ready to be in any relationship, he has an official girlfriend and they went Facebook public, which I never quite was and we never did.

I guess it was me after all.

I spent most of Friday really mad. At him. At myself, since I was mad that this still made me so mad. And, as always, at the situation. Why does she get to be his girlfriend when we could never make it that far? Why would he let an accomplished, intelligent me go in favor of whoever this girl thinks she is? Why am I judging someone I don't even know? (She came into his life during our relationship, but we never actually met.) When is it my turn?

RAWR.

I felt better on Saturday, and I've felt even better today. This development in his life changes nothing in mine. I have no reason to believe he was lying to me at any point, so I guess he really didn't think he was ready. They're a better match anyway, since we were so unlikely. He did care about me then. Eventually I'll get over the fact that he's sharing intimate things with someone new, and eventually I'll get to have some of my own intimate moments again. As I said then, it really did come down to bad timing and an unlikely match. One day I'll get those right.

In the meantime, I had a nice little chat, in person, with a new crush today. We met a few weeks ago, and even though we hadn't seen each other in almost two weeks he randomly added me on Facebook last night. He must have been thinking about me . . .

Of attraction and "You Never Know"

I DO know. I know that I am NOT attracted to men who are shorter than me, thinner than me, or who have smaller feet and hands than I do.

At nearly 5'9", I'm a taller-than-average woman. I have long arms and legs, and, yes, bigger-than-average feet and hands. Thanks to genetics, they're well-proportioned and well-shaped, with long slender fingers and toes (my second toe is nearly as long as my pinky finger, which is fun to demonstrate when people don't beleive me). If anything other than average, my bone structure is on a slightly smaller scale, but I'm not one of those size 2 women with a 24" waist. I am, I think, at a fairly healthy weight--the 20 pounds I've gained over the last several years at a desk job haven't made a HUGE difference in my overall size, and I've never gone past a certain weight (either low or high) so my body is pretty set within a 30 pound range of what I weighed in high school (I was pretty skinny during puberty).

While most of my friends were getting over their gawky stage, I was in the thick of it at 17. I'd grown an inch and a half sometime between junior and senior years, and I grew an additional half inch (and half a shoe size) after high school. I was suddenly taller than a lot of my friends and felt awkward and gangly--thank goodness for childhood dance lessons, or I'd probably have been even MORE clumsy. I had these arms and feet and legs that got in the way and for a while I could walk down the middle of a wide hallway and still end up with bruises on my elbows.

My feet were average until 8th grade, when I suddenly realized I couldn't borrow my mom's shoes anymore. By the time I was 15, I was wearing size 9 shoes and I was only 5'4" tall; I felt like a clown. I have a difficult time finding gloves big enough to accommodate the space between my index finger and my thumb, but small enough that my fingers aren't swimming in them. Long enough skirts and pants are also hard to find, and I won't get into my shoe issues except to say that I'm so grateful I don't also have wide feet. I feel for those of you who do, especially if your feet are a size 9 or more.

Although I've maintained my weight and I'm not quite overweight for my height, I know it's a possibility if I don't exercise. I see women at work who have been in desk jobs for 15 or 20 years and have gained a lot of weight. It wears on them; one woman can't walk down the hall without panting and sweating. I honestly think that the hand genetics dealt me doesn't include the morbid obesity card, but that doesn't mean I get a free pass. I don't want to get too thin, either, because that would be unhealthy. Women who talk about wanting to get back to their high school weight don't realize that I didn't start puberty until I was 15. If I ever get as thin as I was in high school (somewhere between 120 and 130 pounds), there is probably something very wrong with me.

Now that I've established my size history, perhaps you'll understand that when my ex-fiance (just two inches taller than me) quoted the weight loss goal he was trying to attain, and it was just 10 pounds more than the weight I already was, I felt very insecure talking to him about my extra weight. He said he wasn't bothered by my high heels, but in the end I think he was. I felt huge around him sometimes even though he was stronger than me.

I don't want to feel huge around my husband. I am insecure about enough things that I don't want to be insecure about my weight, shoe size, height, or hands. When I've held hands with men whose fingers are shorter than mine, I feel huge (unless their hands are actually BIGGER). I work with an attractive man who I outweigh by 30 pounds, so I don't even go there. I was once cast in a play opposite a man who was 2 or 3 inches shorter than me and at least 35 pounds thinner. I did my best to act the part well and to let my character be attracted to him, but it was a huge relief when he had to drop the show and was replaced by someone much taller. I've been out with wonderful men with small hands and feet and, much as I like them as friends, I'm much more comfortable around someone bigger than me. I like feeling secure that if something happened to me, the man I'm with could easily help me get to safety.

I am just not attracted to men who are smaller than me. I wouldn't go out with one in pursuit of a relationship. So for all those women who say "you never know!" I would like to say, YES. I DO know. I don't think God wants me to be in an eternal marriage with someone to whom I'm not attracted, and I am not attracted to men who are shorter or thinner than me, so stop assuming I'm just being picky and close-minded. I really do mean it when I tell you that I won't marry someone with smaller feet than me--I really don't need him trying on my shoes and commenting on how big they are. . .

Insecurities

If there was one thing I could change about my body it would be the hair on my legs. (And my eyes, I'd get them lasik-ed, we're working on that.) No matter how I remove the hair on my legs, the hair can't figure out how to grow back. I've shaved. I've done several different chemicals - got a first degree burn on my legs once doing that. I've finally settled on an epilator because that's the easiest upkeep and there's no stubble.

No matter how I do it though I end up with ingrown hairs that leave my legs looking like I got attacked by an entire swarm of mosquitos. I've had inch long hairs finally come out before. It's crazy. I see other women with their spotless legs and can't help having a little bit of envy. I exfoliate real well and that helps a little, but there's always at least a few spots on my legs. And I'm VERY self-conscious about it.

Which is why the comments people make about my legs stick in my memory something good. It's my major insecurity about how I look and when people comment it feeds my insecurity because it indicates that people are noticing and wondering what is wrong with me. I've had several people make comments about bug bites. I've had a few people ask me if I had issues shaving. It's not fun because I really do like the shape of my legs a lot, but I'm embarrassed to show them off because of the way my skin is.

HP is a legs man. He's mentioned that to me several times. And he's mentioned to me several times how much he really likes my legs. Not once though has he ever said anything about the spots. And that means a lot to me. I've thanked him for that a few times and he always replies with something along the lines of, "What spots?"

Without even knowing my insecurities he calms them down. He's a good man.

And, because I love comics, here's another good man helping calm his wife's insecurities - For Better of For Worse

Just like dad

My parents visited earlier this year and discovered that HP likes a particular television show. After returning home my dad started watching the show, even though he doesn't like it. His reason was so he could "bond" with HP. Which is sweet. But I thought surely there must be something they could both do that they would both like.

I spent quite a while trying to figure out what that might be. I'd think of something my dad enjoys and then realize that that is something he and I share. And then I'd think of something HP enjoys and realize that is something that he and I enjoy. The only thing I could think of that they have in common is me, and even that is different between them (thankfully).

And I found the whole situation strange. Growing up my dad was the ultimate example of what a husband and father should be. If I was asked to make a list of the guy I wanted to marry, it would've been all the attributes my dad had, even down to some of his physical characteristics.

And then there's HP. Who matches pretty much none of that list. And yet that's perfectly okay. They both have a strong testimony and love of the Gospel. And that's really the most important. They'll find something to bond over eventually.

A major *facepalm*

Once upon a time, a boy and a girl met. He was a massive flirt, she was working on it. He asked her to prom, she accepted, and they had the first of many lovely evenings spent together.

Over the next eight years, this boy and this girl were somewhat on and off again. They went from friends to dating to back to friends to losing touch for over a year, maybe two, to friends to dating to friends, to, well you get the idea.

Then one day, having grown up a little, they decided to really give a relationship a shot. The boy was going to end things with the girl he was currently seeing; the girl was going to wait patiently. Or at least wait.

Once his previous relationship was over, things were starting to look up for this young couple. They'd known each other for quite some time by now, so they were able to skip all the "getting to know you" bits and go straight to the heart of the matter. Long, in depth conversations were had. They grew closer, and the girl suspected she might actually be falling in love.

The one unsuspecting Friday, the boy announced that the Last Girl was pregnant, and it was his, and the timing was such that it must have happened AFTER This Girl was told they had ended it.

This Girl was absolutely shocked. The boy was a returned missionary from their church and they'd spent time together in the temple, wherein they'd both made covenants to wait until marriage. So how could Last Girl be pregnant, especially after their breakup!?

This Girl did exactly what you might expect her to do. She expressed her extreme disappointment and proceeded to end their relationship, friendly or otherwise, and cut off all communication. Nearly a decade of friendship, at the very least, thrown out the window.

That was three years ago. Occasional attempts have been made by the boy to resume contact, but they've been either ignored or met with a negative response.

Until today. For some reason, This Girl is still on his list of people he emails interesting links to things. These come through once every several months, but today she asked him to remove her from this list, and thanked him.

His response?

"Done. You'll never hear from me again. -Boy"

Holy petulant response, Batman.

Look, sir, This Girl wishes you well, is no longer angry, and hopes you get the best in life, honestly, but wants no part of it, and you can hardly be surprised or hurt by it.

I, I mean, This Girl won't be responding and honestly hope that he grows up someday.

Hanging In There

Well, it's been two weeks since the demise of my relationship with Sk8er Boi. I'll be honest, I still miss him, though it is transitioning from missing him to just missing being in something.

This is a good sign.

I still get really angry sometimes and go through all the "Why not this time? When do I get to be happy? Why does no one else notice me?" and bang my fists into my pillows. Sometimes, I still get really sad, like someone is missing.

I still want to text someone (usually him) goodnight, but who in the world wants to hear from me late at night?

I long for a hug. A good one. That neither person wants to end.

I really hate this conversation:

Well-meaning person I know: How's/Where's Sk8erBoi?

Jinxie: He's well, I'm sure/I don't know. We actually broke up.

Well-meaning person I know: Oh, I'm sorry! Why?

Jinxie: Timing.

If it's a friend, and a private conversation, maybe I'll go more into it, and maybe they already knew anyway. Acquaintances at church who met him once at a party? I'm not going into that, thankyouverymuch.

I wonder if he thinks about me.

On the bright side, I'm getting back into my usual sleeping schedule. I have more positive hours and days than not. I have some really incredible friends, and I'm glad to be spending time with them. And tonight, I might actually fold the laundry I haven't touched (other than to dig clothes out of) for weeks.

As always, I'm taking it one day at a time. Yes, the relationship was only two months (or so) long, but considering my recent (as in the last 6 years) history, that's pretty significant, and it's a real loss. I'm allowed to take some time and mourn it and get back to the business of me. Considering some other shakeups to my schedule that happened around the same time that have freed up other non-date evenings, it's no wonder I'm feeling a little lost right now. It's bizarre, since I remember what it was like to be totally single and thriving, since it was only April for heaven's sake, so why do I feel so wander-y?

It's coming. I feel the healing and the joy returning and I will take back my life. Something better is out there, and I'm on my way.

And that is a good feeling.

See ya later, boy

Well, I guess I was right to worry. Sk8er Boi apparently did spend time on his vacation thinking things through about his life and our relationship and decided we couldn't have one and he came back and we broke up. Then I got so sad that I haven't been able to eat or sleep the way I should, let alone write about it.

Short version: It sucks.

Longer version: We were an unlikely match right from the beginning. He's several years my junior and we're, appropriate to our age differences, at different places in our life and career paths - in that I have one and he doesn't - not to mention several other differences between us. Originally, and we discussed it length on our second date, we weren't concerned yet. Aware, not stupid, but not concerned. We'd take things slow and figure out just how big of a difference our differences were as they came up.

While he was soaking up sun rays, he finally realized that he's a little lost right now and doesn't know what direction to go and can't give me the time and attention I deserve while he figures it out. It's not me, he assured me repeatedly, I'm special and "not going to be just another girl" that he dated, but we can't be together right now. He still has feelings for me.

It makes sense, really. I sincerely appreciate that he had the maturity to realize that and the guts to tell me in person. I'm not even mad at him, just mad at the situation. He's the most fun I've had in a long time and the only man who's really looked at me like he did for ages. I really miss him

Maybe one day we'll get our timing right. Maybe I'll find someone else even better.

Until then, I had some wonderful friends rally around me last weekend. I've changed my hair a little. And I have three parties to attend this weekend, one full of all new (to me) people, since I only know the host.

It's going to be okay. I wish Sk8er Boi well, and know that this may the end of us, it's not the end of me.