I still have a boyfriend.

I still have a boyfriend, but I remember why this wasn’t the plan. Relationships are hard. Relationships feel like drowning. I’m not enjoying myself.

I still like him. I’m still in the honeymoon phase of love, but the realistic side of me is already seeing the chaos. And, I’m not happy. And, I’m concerned that he realizes I’m not happy and isn’t moving mountains. Move molehills? Hell, stand up and move in the direction of a resolution?

I don’t know where the line is drawn of me being reasonable and unreasonable. I don’t know when I want too much or just enough. It’s complicated and overwhelming. I don’t know how to move forward.

So, I’m standing in place. Perfectly still.

I don’t want ANOTHER failed relationship, but I also don’t want another failed relationship. Same situation really. I’m either in it or not.

I do know that if you don’t tend to your relationship it will fizzle and die, or someone else will swoop in and do what you aren’t doing. I know that for certain.

Officially, I still have a boyfriend.

I have a boyfriend

I have a boyfriend. Yep. It happened. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t seek it out, not completely. I was open, and it happened. And, I’m happy. Actually, I’m hopeful. I’m open. We shall see.

There’s a part of me that’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The last guy tricked me. I thought he was fantastic. He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. The guy before that got me, too. And, the one before that.

I’m the common denominator. Maybe I’m just gullible.

So, we shall see. I’m ready to see where this goes. I’m happy to see how this plays out. It could be the last relationship of my life, or another crash and burn. Either way, it’s a lesson. I’ll be changed by it.

FYI: This feels like the start of a series.

I am all those things.

06/13/2014

I am self conscious. I’m unsure. I’m scared. I’m horribly imperfect. I’m not in the right body. I’m not in the right head space. I’m terrified to end up alone. I feel unappreciated.

You can’t tell me anything about me, I’m living it.

“Here — tell these people something they dont know about me.” -Eminem 8 Mile

09/08/2019

There’s a part of reading this initial post that makes me really sad. I hate to think that I had that much negative shit to say about myself.

BUT, I get me.

These things are all still true. I’m sitting here rocking my baby in a t-shirt and my undies, committing to toning up my legs and core, losing weight everywhere, and strengthening my skincare regimen…maybe. I gotta get this shit under control.

I’m dating, but it’s new. Neither shoe has dropped, but I’m super cautious. Because, I believe all that stuff about myself, 100%, and I have a newborn to add to the list of red flags. I mean I don’t date guys with young children. Too much potential drama. Layer that on to thunder thighs and lingering post pregnancy acne, and I’m left wondering what the hell he’s doing pursuing me.

But, I get me. I KNOW me.

No one can attack me. I am my own worst critic. I’ve already analyzed the hell out of me. You can’t tell me anything I don’t already know.

The flip side to this imperfect body is that it brought two amazing boys into this world, thirteen years apart.

I support the people I love. I stand in the trenches unafraid, even when I’m feeling unappreciated.

My headspace is contingent on what’s happening around me. That’s fine. I can handle the ups and downs.

And although I am terrified to be alone forever, I can if I gotta. Single is a really comfortable place for me. Plus, I’m dating anyway. He likes me, genuinely, and I like him. And, if it crashes and burns, I’ll blog about it and move on.

Side note: I’ve decided to start trying to complete some of my many MANY unfinished blog entries.

This is the oldest draft I had. I started it shortly after I started this blog. I’m sure it came after a difficult moment dealing with the second Chris, and I was feeling both ready to fight and ready to cry.

Because, I’d probably just realized there was competition. She was thinner, with long legs, and a much tighter waist. And, she was a local to my almost two hour trek. They’d known each other longer. Despite their drama and insanity, he was invested. And, although I brought a ton of quality shit to the table, I couldn’t compete with those things. Those were big things.

In the end, neither of us ended up with him. We spent what I can only assume were, at least, months in competition, teetering back and forth between winning and losing. And, it was never worth the work or chaos. I decided not to ever again be in that situation. Dating competitions typically don’t produce a real winner, anyway.

And, never to judge myself against someone else’s scale. I’m a damn catch, with my intentional and unintentional curves and extra baby softness.

The Golden Rule

This resonates with me in such a major way. I mean slap my church fan on the back of the pew in front of me, while waving my other hand, and yelling “preach”! I feel this.

Every time I’ve been disappointed, but let it go, it chipped away at my feelings for him. (Lots of hims, not just the last one.) He (They) thought I let it go, I was so understanding, I cut him (them) a break, and he (they) appreciated it. I was becoming more and more the best girlfriend. He (they) thought this was the epitome of love.

While I was simply done and waiting for the perfect opportunity to walk away. I couldn’t jump stupid on him, I need that energy to continue to devise my master plan. I was getting out, and I wouldn’t be looking back. Don’t try to stop me, my mind is made up.

Because it’s true that when I’m fighting, it’s passion. You still have me. You still have a chance. We could still make it. When I start saying “okay,” I’m done. I am a lost cause. You’ve pushed me so far away, I decided it wasn’t worth the walk back. I’ve struck out on a whole new path.

It all comes back to the most simplistic rule, Golden. Treat people the way you want to be treated. (I know that’s not the original, but I couldn’t remember all the biblical language and in the proper order.)

Moral of the story: Once a woman stops loving you, the way that only a woman that’s in love with you can, it’s done. We give a thousand chances. Don’t waste them. Grow up. Value what you have. Nurture her and the relationship. See how it grows and develops and how you grow and develop from it.

Or don’t. I’m no expert. I’m just telling it the way I’ve seen it.

Family

There’s always a moment for every single mother that she envisions the family she could have had, or should have had. And, with raging hormones and a new baby, it’s easy to convince yourself that it will, or should, work. It may be bullshit. Be careful.

I left for a reason. I left because I wasn’t happy. I was miserable. And, I can have all the feels, but I can’t let them drive me back into something I left for A REASON.

This is a new version of normal. I’m not going to get the mommy, daddy, two kids, two dogs, and a white picket fence. My package is different, ever evolving, and unique.

I’m still grappling with being a mom of two. The last addition I need to my basket of shenanigans is a relationship I don’t feel confident about.

When I found out I was pregnant with my oldest son, Blaise, I was engaged to his father. Almost immediately, I called off the engagement. Even young and naive, I knew I could only handle one major life event. I stepped away from the relationship to focus on my pregnancy. At the end, I realized the relationship was toxic, and I’d made the right decision. I mourned the loss of my son’s family. I was devastated, but always confident in my choice.

With my baby, I’d left his father months before I got pregnant. We were talking, trying again even, when I ended up pregnant. It’s been a lot to process. This wasn’t the story I’d written for myself, but my baby boy is as perfect as his older brother. And, he was meant to be. Selfish behaviors, know-it-all attitudes, and a refusal to be considerate kept his dad and I apart. They will keep us apart, forever. But, we have to figure out the parenting part, come hell AND high waters.

I don’t want to build a faux family for the sake of avoiding the stereotypes. I also don’t want to romanticize a relationship that will never truly happen.

Family comes in a variety of forms, and we have to be confident in the family we are creating, even when it’s unorthodox.

Genuinely, Happily, Single

“There are people who are genuinely happy to be single, because past relationships were extremely exhausting!” -dearladyann

It’s me. I’m people. “There is Leandrea who is genuinely happy to be single…”

I would certainly describe my last few relationships as exhausting, among other choice words. And, they pushed me to a place I’d rather not go again for awhile.

That’s okay. I’m acknowledging that I’m gun shy, and I need a break. A long break of singledom. A long break of rest. I’ve earned this. I deserve this. I need this.

I wish I could bounce back in a way that made the past seem trivial. I’d like to believe I’m strong enough to just move on. Because long term was my goal, and single forever isn’t my plan. But, I barely escaped with my sanity. I bent totally in half, but I didn’t break. And, I need to recuperate.

This is the opportunity to renew myself mentally and emotionally. Heal from the trauma. Re-establish my needs, wants, and desires. And, date freely and have fun.

Low expectations. No expectations. Impressing me is necessary to move forward.

Newborn and giving up.

6/22 I’m writing this with my newborn son on my shoulder. It’s been one week, two hours, and seventeen minutes of me being a mom of two. He’s perfect, and I’m faking normalcy.

7/27 My baby is now 6 weeks and 1 day. We’re side by side in the backseat of a car. We took a mini vacation to Memphis. It was challenging. It was an adventure. We’re in the last hour of the drive, he’s tired of the car seat, he wonders why I’m not taking him out of it, and I’m typing this with one hand while I hold his pacifier with the other.

But, he’s absolutely perfect. He’s happy and curious most of the time, but he screams his head off when he’s hungry. And, he expects his pacifier to be available 100% of the time. Doesn’t matter if he wants it. He wants it to be available. We have 6 pacifiers. He’s training me well. Again, I’m holding his pacifier in his mouth this moment.

I’m madly in love. I’m mother to 2 beautiful boys, 13 years apart, and almost identical twins. My heart is full. I can barely contain my happiness, even during 3A feedings and poop filled diapers. Life is good. I’m very blessed.

I can’t seem to wrap my mind around what’s happened in the last year. The break up. The pregnancy. The baby. Nothing was part of the plan. I give up.

And, I don’t give up in a negative way. I give up making decisions regarding love. I give up being sure of anything. Because my happiest moments were being single and open to whatever happened. I was free.

Right now, I don’t want to be a wife, or a fiancé, or a girlfriend. I just want to have a few dates, eventually. I just want a handful of compliments and a few conversations a week. It’s easy, and it lacks decisions.