Fully Clothed
"Having someone read my thoughts is a bit like getting naked in front of a stranger for the first time. I would like to
flounce around proudly, but I find myself being all bashful." - August 2003
This quote is from one of my first blog entries, which was written 6 years ago. I know my current archives only cover the last 4 or so years...I had to delete my original blog due to a pesky stalker issue. The point is, I spent more than half a decade dancing around naked in front of the entire world on the interwebs. I revealed to the world just how difficult it is to walk away from a 5-year relationship when you know it's not right:
"It's now...nighttime...when I feel saddest. Anxious. When it is quiet, except for the constant buzzing in my head. Buuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did. " - November 2003
" A month or two after Brad and I broke up, we decided to pack up each other's belongings and exchange them through a friend. I remember packing up that box, jaw firmly set while tossing in various books, toiletries, clean socks and undies.
I rounded the corner to my closet and threw in his shoes...I was cool, calm, collected. I had happy music blaring, the apartment brightly lit. I did everything in my power to make the process of packing up my life with Brad as quick and painless as possible, and I handled it well, until I was confronted with his suit. I grabbed it out of the closet so I could fold it and place it in the box, and accidentally caught a whiff of it as it whooshed past my face. In an instant, every memory I had about my lover of five years ran through my head...our first kiss, the first time we made love, our first fight, cuddling on the couch, vacations, holidays, lazy afternoons reading in bed, slow dances, swimming in the ocean, licking the saltiness off his shoulders. I leaned against the wall and buried my face in the dark blue wool, remembering the way his face would light up when he caught sight of me approaching him on a busy street...the funny way he sticks his tongue out when he is taking a mouthful of food...I even remembered the things he would do that drove me bananas, but they didn't seem to bother me at that moment. The intensity of these memories were too great, and I found myself curled up on the floor, bawling, cuddling a suit, trying to inhale every last bit of the first man I had ever loved, with Buena Vista Social Club playing in the background. I cried until I was completely spent, until my nose was so clogged I couldn't smell another thing. I folded the suit up, wet
with my tears, put it in the box, and taped the lid closed. I had never felt so alone before in my life, with the left-overs of my 5 year relationship tucked neatly away in a cardboard box sitting in my lap." - May 2004
I catalogued my re-entrance into the dating world:
"HIM: ...You don't know how i've struggled with this over the years
ME: Actually, I do. We had a very long conversation about it around the time I cracked my skull open masturbating on the phone with you.
HIM: There's a sentence you don't see very often
ME: Yup. It's the first time i ever wrote it, oddly enough
HIM: I can imagine
ME: One could only hope that's the first and last time I will ever have to write it as well...oh I guess could throw it into a paper every now
and then..." - February 2004
"Eventually...one of these days, I will stop being every man on the planet's buddy with
whom they love to talk about their love life...but don't want to fuck." - June 2004
Oh God. The dating stuff...so much of it. So damn much, I cannot even pick a single quote to do my dating experience any justice.
I blogged about moving up to Boston, and moving back down again. Depression. Dating. Sex. Job hunting. Family drama. Disappointment. Triumph. Promotions. Cockroaches. Stalkers. Religion. Crazy neighbors, hooker neighbors, slutty neighbors, and nice neighbors who've become my closest friends. Food. Losing weight. Gaining weight. Maintaining weight. Working out. Yoga. Cheese. Graduate school. A cancer scare. Yeast infections. Kindness. Meanness.
I blogged about it all, and I loved every second of it. Blogging was a liberating and cathartic experience for years. I remember being deeply saddened when I had to delete my first blog:
"I am mulling over the idea of discontinuing the blog, to be honest. I used to like the idea of sharing my experiences, so that others can laugh and learn from my life's blunders, and to cheer me on when things actually do work out...but the nasty turn this has taken is really starting to frighten me. I just want to be left alone and to move on." - January 2005
Well here I am, 4 years later, feeling the same way about a lot of things, and blogging is no exception. There hasn't been a "nasty turn" to speak of, and writing has been a source of joy for a long time. I just don't feel the need to share my innermost thoughts with the world anymore. I feel a bit too exposed. I feel as if my thoughts, opinions, and experiences have the potential to bite me in the ass. You cannot unring a bell on the internet; when you post to a blog, it's recorded somewhere forever. And ever. Plus, anonymous my ass. Nothing in this world is anonymous.
I was really on the fence for a while about whether or not I wanted to keep my blog going, and it was a conversation with an ex -blogger and long-time reader that helped me make my decision. He and I were never close, and we only met once in person. But, he kept up with my life by reading this blog, and I "ran into him" on AOL chat not too long ago. He asked why I had stopped writing, and explained my feelings. He said it was a shame, because reading my blog was so damn funny.
I had a little Joe Pesci moment. Funny? Funny how? Funny, "Ha ha?" Am I here to amuse you? Are you laughing at me, or with me?
The truth of the matter is my adventures in dating, weight struggles and self-esteem issues were kind of funny and endearing when I was 25. At 31, I find them pathetic. They no longer signify areas for me to grow. Instead, I see them as my life's failures. I don't like that I am single and rather awkward about it. I don't like that I would trade my brains for a hot body in a heart beat. It pains me that when it comes down to it, I view myself as "less than" because I am overweight, yet I can't seem to get enough of a grip on the problem to truly change and lose the weight for good.
I know that the majority of my readers come here because they can identify with my feelings and struggles even if they don't suffer the same burdens. We all have things we wish we'd done differently, hopes for a better future, and ways upon which we hope to improve ourselves. It's the human condition, and I think my writing these last 6 years is just one tiny, little example of the way human beings struggle and triumph during our time here on this planet. But, the idea of people coming here to laugh at me - not with me - upsets me a lot. The truth is, I've known for quite some time that there were people who came here to laugh at me and not with me, and it didn't bother me that much. But, something changed inside of me, and all of a sudden it matters. So, I stopped sharing.
Thank you so much for reading my thoughts, and for all of your comments, compliments, reality-checks, and support. I cannot tell you how flattering it is to know that complete strangers came to this website to read about my life because they genuinely enjoyed my writing style. I still toy with the idea of publishing a book, or writing a screenplay, just like a bajillion other bloggers out there. If you'd like to keep in touch or at least be notified if I decide to start publishing, please shoot me an email at frankiecantrelax at yahoo dot com.
I've had great fun dancing for all of you, flouncing around proudly, and letting you share my life. But, it's time for me to put my clothes back on now, and I hope you understand. Goodbye.
flounce around proudly, but I find myself being all bashful." - August 2003
This quote is from one of my first blog entries, which was written 6 years ago. I know my current archives only cover the last 4 or so years...I had to delete my original blog due to a pesky stalker issue. The point is, I spent more than half a decade dancing around naked in front of the entire world on the interwebs. I revealed to the world just how difficult it is to walk away from a 5-year relationship when you know it's not right:
"It's now...nighttime...when I feel saddest. Anxious. When it is quiet, except for the constant buzzing in my head. Buuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did. " - November 2003
" A month or two after Brad and I broke up, we decided to pack up each other's belongings and exchange them through a friend. I remember packing up that box, jaw firmly set while tossing in various books, toiletries, clean socks and undies.
I rounded the corner to my closet and threw in his shoes...I was cool, calm, collected. I had happy music blaring, the apartment brightly lit. I did everything in my power to make the process of packing up my life with Brad as quick and painless as possible, and I handled it well, until I was confronted with his suit. I grabbed it out of the closet so I could fold it and place it in the box, and accidentally caught a whiff of it as it whooshed past my face. In an instant, every memory I had about my lover of five years ran through my head...our first kiss, the first time we made love, our first fight, cuddling on the couch, vacations, holidays, lazy afternoons reading in bed, slow dances, swimming in the ocean, licking the saltiness off his shoulders. I leaned against the wall and buried my face in the dark blue wool, remembering the way his face would light up when he caught sight of me approaching him on a busy street...the funny way he sticks his tongue out when he is taking a mouthful of food...I even remembered the things he would do that drove me bananas, but they didn't seem to bother me at that moment. The intensity of these memories were too great, and I found myself curled up on the floor, bawling, cuddling a suit, trying to inhale every last bit of the first man I had ever loved, with Buena Vista Social Club playing in the background. I cried until I was completely spent, until my nose was so clogged I couldn't smell another thing. I folded the suit up, wet
with my tears, put it in the box, and taped the lid closed. I had never felt so alone before in my life, with the left-overs of my 5 year relationship tucked neatly away in a cardboard box sitting in my lap." - May 2004
I catalogued my re-entrance into the dating world:
"HIM: ...You don't know how i've struggled with this over the years
ME: Actually, I do. We had a very long conversation about it around the time I cracked my skull open masturbating on the phone with you.
HIM: There's a sentence you don't see very often
ME: Yup. It's the first time i ever wrote it, oddly enough
HIM: I can imagine
ME: One could only hope that's the first and last time I will ever have to write it as well...oh I guess could throw it into a paper every now
and then..." - February 2004
"Eventually...one of these days, I will stop being every man on the planet's buddy with
whom they love to talk about their love life...but don't want to fuck." - June 2004
Oh God. The dating stuff...so much of it. So damn much, I cannot even pick a single quote to do my dating experience any justice.
I blogged about moving up to Boston, and moving back down again. Depression. Dating. Sex. Job hunting. Family drama. Disappointment. Triumph. Promotions. Cockroaches. Stalkers. Religion. Crazy neighbors, hooker neighbors, slutty neighbors, and nice neighbors who've become my closest friends. Food. Losing weight. Gaining weight. Maintaining weight. Working out. Yoga. Cheese. Graduate school. A cancer scare. Yeast infections. Kindness. Meanness.
I blogged about it all, and I loved every second of it. Blogging was a liberating and cathartic experience for years. I remember being deeply saddened when I had to delete my first blog:
"I am mulling over the idea of discontinuing the blog, to be honest. I used to like the idea of sharing my experiences, so that others can laugh and learn from my life's blunders, and to cheer me on when things actually do work out...but the nasty turn this has taken is really starting to frighten me. I just want to be left alone and to move on." - January 2005
Well here I am, 4 years later, feeling the same way about a lot of things, and blogging is no exception. There hasn't been a "nasty turn" to speak of, and writing has been a source of joy for a long time. I just don't feel the need to share my innermost thoughts with the world anymore. I feel a bit too exposed. I feel as if my thoughts, opinions, and experiences have the potential to bite me in the ass. You cannot unring a bell on the internet; when you post to a blog, it's recorded somewhere forever. And ever. Plus, anonymous my ass. Nothing in this world is anonymous.
I was really on the fence for a while about whether or not I wanted to keep my blog going, and it was a conversation with an ex -blogger and long-time reader that helped me make my decision. He and I were never close, and we only met once in person. But, he kept up with my life by reading this blog, and I "ran into him" on AOL chat not too long ago. He asked why I had stopped writing, and explained my feelings. He said it was a shame, because reading my blog was so damn funny.
I had a little Joe Pesci moment. Funny? Funny how? Funny, "Ha ha?" Am I here to amuse you? Are you laughing at me, or with me?
The truth of the matter is my adventures in dating, weight struggles and self-esteem issues were kind of funny and endearing when I was 25. At 31, I find them pathetic. They no longer signify areas for me to grow. Instead, I see them as my life's failures. I don't like that I am single and rather awkward about it. I don't like that I would trade my brains for a hot body in a heart beat. It pains me that when it comes down to it, I view myself as "less than" because I am overweight, yet I can't seem to get enough of a grip on the problem to truly change and lose the weight for good.
I know that the majority of my readers come here because they can identify with my feelings and struggles even if they don't suffer the same burdens. We all have things we wish we'd done differently, hopes for a better future, and ways upon which we hope to improve ourselves. It's the human condition, and I think my writing these last 6 years is just one tiny, little example of the way human beings struggle and triumph during our time here on this planet. But, the idea of people coming here to laugh at me - not with me - upsets me a lot. The truth is, I've known for quite some time that there were people who came here to laugh at me and not with me, and it didn't bother me that much. But, something changed inside of me, and all of a sudden it matters. So, I stopped sharing.
Thank you so much for reading my thoughts, and for all of your comments, compliments, reality-checks, and support. I cannot tell you how flattering it is to know that complete strangers came to this website to read about my life because they genuinely enjoyed my writing style. I still toy with the idea of publishing a book, or writing a screenplay, just like a bajillion other bloggers out there. If you'd like to keep in touch or at least be notified if I decide to start publishing, please shoot me an email at frankiecantrelax at yahoo dot com.
I've had great fun dancing for all of you, flouncing around proudly, and letting you share my life. But, it's time for me to put my clothes back on now, and I hope you understand. Goodbye.
posted by Frankie at 8:33 AM
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