Can't You Move On?

Okay, so by now, you've realized this chick is gonna talk a lot about her ex boyfriend. Yep. For now anyway. It's been a big part of my life the past five years--even though only half of those were actually spent with him. But this is not a blog written by someone who's stuck. I think I've morphed and had to change these past five years more than anyone should have to-- this side of puberty. I think I'm just finally at that last stage of grieving, where you learn the lessons and move on. (Either that or the first stages of Lesbianism.) And that's what you're reading...the lessons learned and those I've yet to uncover.

Maybe I need to go back a little. I moved to Sacramento exactly five years ago. The signs were all pointing towards this being the place I needed to be. (I was big on signs) My best friend's mom died. And her funeral, which I spoke at, was in Sacramento. I got a job lead and then offer for a TV gig in Sacramento. And the sign I read into hook, line and stinker--at a Wilco concert back home, a sweet, goofy boy from Sacramento came walking up to me as I sipped champagne with my sister. (yes--we were the only two well-dressed women at a Wilco concert sipping champagne in the lobby. Perhaps that was the reason he came walking up rather than the stars aligning?) This all happened in a two week period. Weird right?

So...three bright, flashing signs that my life was headed two hours north for a fun adventure. I thought--you really can't make this shit up...there must be a reason I'm supposed to be in Sacramento?  It was way more than coincidence? I was scared to say no! But five years later, the gig and the guy have ended...and I'm now trying to teach myself to IGNORE the signs. Live more in the moment. Lesson one: Crap just happens. You can marvel at the synchronicity of it all--but really, my wise Mr. Jung--there are some things that ARE just accidents. Lesson two: moving for someone rarely ends well. Especially when you trade San Francisco for Sacramento.

If I did have trouble letting go (did I say that?)--it wasn't because of the whiz-bang way we met and how things started. Sure it seemed star-crossed, but I did feel PP was the first guy who really loved me the way I wanted to be loved. So no, not a blog about another girl who's stuck--but yes another blog by a girl who has "daddy issues." We'll get into that when I feel like it. If I feel like it.

For now, let's just say that I've learned I need to work with, play with and date --really, really confident people. Not asshole confident-- just people who know who they are. And take responsibility for their own cracks--instead of blaming you. Mr. PP used to say "You're not in love with me--only the idea of me." Wow. Thanks. And PS--that's some confidence in yerself bud. But maybe he was partially right. I wanted to be loved. I never heard any man say such nice things. But would you give an "idea" a 20K dollar kitchen makeover?* I'd say that's love.

And no. I didn't get the fridge in the split. I tried.

*Next up...we'll chat about what I do. I work in TV. But don't think this is some made up script for a bad sitcom. This is my life. Which is currently on hiatus from TV.