Miss March’s Keychain

For some reason, the last three days, the lyrics to Castle on a Cloud from Les Miserables has been etched into my brain. It’s an extremely sad song about a little, neglected girl dreaming about her fantasy castle where she will be safe and happy. It got me thinking about fantasy places. We all have “places” that we go when we are sad, scared, or need to disconnect from reality for a bit. Often times, these fantasy places that we go to have fantasy guests that join us there; they could be real people in our lives that we miss, or care about, or they could be people we know we’re most likely never going to meet, but in our heads, they can dine with us at our fantasy hotel.

I have a lot of fantasy places that I go to when I’m upset. There’s one I go to with J (the inn that we want to buy someday); with A, in my head, I often to go a USO dance in 1944 where we pick up sailors and dance ’til dawn (I never said I was sane); with T, I often go to California and imagine us driving through the hills of Northern Cali and meeting interesting people at small coffee shops. These fantasies connect me with the people I miss and love; they’re usually fantasies of events that I know we would enjoy (or, in A’s case, would have enjoyed) together.

My fake motel key, keychain from Admiral Adama.

The other day I got locked out of my house, temporarily, and while struggling with my keys, I stopped and took a second to look at my keychain. My bright red keychain is a fake motel key; the Admiral bought it for me when we were shopping together in DC one weekend. We thought that they were adorable because they were like “old-fashioned” motel key chains (opposed to the new cards you slide in the door); he bought us each one. Now, we both have them on our keys; I know it’s silly, but to look at that keychain, it reminds me of all the amazing times we had together in our little fantasies and dreams. Although we still talk a lot, and he’s so important to me, a part of “us” is now forever gone. I’m not his and he’s not mine. However, in this fake motel, in this fake little town, we’re still “us” laughing and dancing in this fake little motel room with busted curtains and dimmed lights.

Where do you go to escape in your fantasies? And who joins you?

Miss March on Doling and Taking

I often find myself giving out relationship advice at all hours of the day; with girl friends having different schedules, boy friends who ask odd questions, and a mom in the dating world, sometimes I find myself repeating the same speeches twice in the same day. I love it, don’t get me wrong. I find relationships fascinating and I want my friends to be happy, so I always enjoy a good advice giving session–but, rarely do I find myself taking much advice from people. I’m sort of an independent spirit, in that regard. I love my friends, and I listen to them, whole-heartily, when they try to help, but often my answers have to come within in order for me to listen 100% to them.

Which is why when I get or read advice from others that seem to work, and I believe in, I try to use it. For example, Gomez is the king of simple emotions for us kids. I remember when I was 16 and dating HSBF, I was all upset because I thought HSBF liked my friend and Gomez found me crying and gave me the advice, “He likes you, he’s allowed to have other friends, but he wouldn’t hurt you like that.” He was right; HSBF had no interest in her, I just wanted more attention. Just the other day while car shopping I was venting about how I really enjoy my time with ColoradoBoy, but since the MusicTeach debacle, I’m now worried that a guy will change completely and cut off all ties with me. Gomez, driving, said, “Do you like him?” I nodded. “Does he like you?” I nodded. “Then stop worrying and forget about it. He likes you. That’s great.” Simple, effective, clear. I’m trying to listen to it and I really did stop worrying about it…mostly. Ha.

I came across this blog post by Meghan from NonSociety and there was something about the advice she gives about dating post-break up, which really resonated with me. She says,

“My advice is to go on dates, but don’t get serious. You need to know that there are loads of men out there for the picking (when the time is right). But after a breakup, these guys are merely ‘Feel Goods’, guys to boost your ego and distract you from the pain. Do not rely on them for anything but distraction.”

I think this is one of the best pieces of advice I’ve read about jumping back into the dating world. She’s right on about the way we should approach it and the feelings we should “allow ourselves” to feel.

What’s the best advice you’ve gotten about dating? The worst? Do you find yourself giving out dating advice a lot?

Miss March’s Friday Night

So, you know that boy in college who’s slightly older, slightly trouble, and slightly incredibly cute?

Yeah, that’s Sunny.

I lived in a house during college with some older girls; they took me under their wing when I quasi-broke up with my quasi-freshman year boyfriend during sophomore year and they invited me to meals, drinking, shopping. They ran with this pretty big group of friends; they were all a year older than me, and all semi-hipsters. There was a few young men in their group of friends, but no one really worth pursuing. Except Sunny. Sunny was the boy who, at the end of the night, would always put his arm around me and say, “Don’t worry, a good guy will come around.” Or, “You’re too good for that idiot.” I know he didn’t see me in any way except perhaps in a younger sister light, but he was adorable, and there was something about his smile and the way he looked at me which totally made the fifteen year old in me melt. I mentioned my crush to the older-girls and they promptly told me to stay away from him because he’s into drugs, etc. So, I sort of put him out of my mind. I ended up with Adama, and I resolved Sunny to be a friend, and only a friend, in my mind.

Flash forward to Friday night. My four guy friends from college have a band. They were playing at this dive bar in The City so J and I went to go see them play. It didn’t dawn on me until that day that perhaps Sunny would be there with some of my older friends. So, we show up and it’s like a college reunion; there was a bunch of people from school, and so I mingled and talked and laughed a lot. It was really awesome to see everyone, and I didn’t even really notice very much at all (maybe a little, tiny bit) when Sunny walked through the door. He looked quite hipster in his plaid shirt, skinny jeans and long necklace with a Star of David at the end. He has this quick and raspy, whispering, type of voice; he came over and gave me a kiss hello, “Heyyyy Miss March.” My stomach did a flip, but I smiled sweetly and nodded my head at him in my usual coy manner. So, the night when on and Sunny and some of the older girls were outside having a smoke. I went out to make a phone call and ended up talking to Sunny. “You know,” I told him, probably having some wine-bravado on my back, “I had a crush on you all through college.” He looked at me, eyes wide, “Nooooo….” he responded, smiling, and shook his head. “Yeah,” I quipped back, “You’re adorable, who wouldn’t have a thing for you?” He smiled and said thank you and I skipped on back downstairs to the bar.

Well, wouldn’t you know it. Not twenty minutes later I’m standing there, by the bar with some friends (the music was really, really loud and the bar was really, really small, just so you know) when Sunny walks over to me, stands right in front of me and this conversation occurs:

Sunny: Comekissmeinthebathroom.

Miss March: What? (I put my hand to my ear to show I had no clue what he was saying)

Sunny: Comekissmeinthebathroom.

(Now, at this point I was pretty sure he was asking me to come do drugs in the bathroom, so I’m glad I double checked his question before I shook my head no).

Miss March: What?! Come what in the bathroom?

Sunny: KISS ME.

Oh, got it.

I smiled at him and we danced to the back of the bar where he kissed me. My college crush, the bad-boy, the adorably handsome boy that I watched from afar as a silly sophomore was now holding my face and kissing me in a bar. Weird.

He stepped back, looked at me, and said “Wow,” I raised my eyebrows at him, “You’re a really good kisser.” “Uh, thanks?” I smiled. “I don’t know, I thought you’d like be more…different?” I think he meant younger, but he didn’t want to say it. I smiled again and he kissed me again. It was really funny; inside I was giggling and laughing, but on the outside I was playing it cool. This was a total NSA kiss and I really dug that. We ended up moving bars and I ended up hanging out with my amazing guy friends from college; but, in the shuffle, Sunny found me again and gave me another kiss. It was so silly, the whole thing. I couldn’t help but laughing. Kissing Sunny was everything I thought it would be, sure; the whole thing was almost verging on nonchalant. It was like it was something bound to happen in my life, to get it over with, so I don’t always wonder (ala Jake Ryan). I’m glad I had the opportunity to see what it was like, he was fun to see and kiss; but, I’m older than I was when I had a serious crush on him, so part of me took the whole thing in stride and I felt like I was watching a movie of my life. You know, like I was in the audience, holding popcorn, watching myself kiss this boy I once crushed, in the bar, with music blasting, glasses clinking, and friends all around. And, I have to say, the movie wasn’t half bad.

You ever have moments where you feel like you’re in the audience watching a movie of your own life?