Reality Check

I’ve been away for a while, but it wasn’t my typical “blog once or twice, then flake out for six months” sort of thing. It was a “in the middle of finals, then flying off to BFE midwestern-town to watch my brother graduate, then going on vacation before school starts back and life gets crazy again” sort of thing.

In any case, I’m back.

What prompted me to blog today, though, was a phone call I got around three this afternoon. The Hampton Inn and Suites called to ask me about my hotel room block. You know, the one I reserved this time last year for the wedding that was supposed to happen two and a half months from now. Fun times.

I was already kind of having a shit day: I had to get a tetanus shot due to the combination of my good Samaritan spirit (who wanted to remove the rusty fishing lure floating on the river near our campsite so no one would get hurt), and my inner alcohol aficionado (who had consumed more vodka than is appropriate for 10 am on a Tuesday (but it WAS vacation!!!)). Beyond that, everyone knows that the first few days back to work after vacation are hell with or without vaccinations, so when the call arrived it was just enough on top of an already annoying day to drive me to the cupcakes in the lunch room.

It wasn’t so much the fact that I was annoyed that the hotel hadn’t kept up with the cancellation that I called in immediately after the break-up in December (or the follow-up email I sent to confirm in March), and it didn’t upset me because it made me feel sad about not getting married, or full of regret for breaking it off. The truth is that, even five months after the fact, I think about my ex every day (several times a day), and typically run through every emotion conceivable every time it happens (anger, sadness, regret, happiness, bitterness, smugness, guilt… You get the picture!), so it’s not like the call brought me into some new emotional cycle. I’m actually getting used it by now, which is a scary thought in and of itself.

I didn’t even really bother me that I knew it was the first of what will probably be many calls. For those of you who haven’t planned a wedding (and, for that matter, for those of you who have, but without the gusto (read: obsession for details and all things “wedding”)) that I did, the first thing any vendor asks you to do is write down your wedding date. So even though I was REALLY thorough in my post-break-up cancellation frenzy, I know in addition to the vendors I called who will forget that I cancelled, there’s also people out there who have my former wedding date written down somewhere, and were just waiting for it to get close before bombarding me with emails and calls (and sometimes texts) in an attempt to convince me to add on some last minute detail (Bubbles! Linens! Photobooths!).

While fielding those calls won’t be fun, it probably won’t be traumatic either (although picking up my dress probably will be just a bit… I’m holding off on that for a while). More than anything, knowing that I’m getting close to what WAS the date, reminds me of how much further away from the break-up I am… And how things aren’t completely the way I had imagined.
Having not been single for a while, I had this image of what life would be like… And while I enjoy what I have, it’s not quite it. (I blame Sex and the City.)
Let’s start with the failures:

1) Losing the “last ten pounds”: three years ago (and a month before I met my ex), I was an obese girl starting a weight loss journey. For the past two years, I’ve been at a healthy weight with just a little more jiggle than a girl in her twenties would like to have. I figured that post-break-up I’d hit the gym hard and drop that weight in no time! After all, the tabloids always show pictures of celebs who look extra toned and hot just weeks after separating from their former SOs. Unfortunately, I failed to take into account the additional drinking I’d be doing post-break-up. If someone would just invent diet wine (or tequila for that matter) I’d totally make it! Until then, I like Happy Hour too much to have benefited from the “break-up diet”. Oh well. It’s a FAIL, but the margaritas help me forget.

2) Writing more: I’ve always loved to write and have started (and subsequently abandoned) at least ten novels in my life. I had assumed that I’d be hit with a stroke of writing genius, and would use all the extra time I have now that I’m single writing a best-seller (or at least something that could one day be completely re-written into publishable material). Yeah, not so much. I definitely threw myself into hobbies (like Happy Hour!), but between drinking and grad school, there hasn’t been a ton of time for writing, and that stroke of genius must’ve gotten lost on its way. It’s a FAIL, but at least I’m blogging a little, right?

And the successes:

1) Spending more time with friends: I think they’re actually starting to get a little sick of me… I joke that I’m my closest friends’ Urkel (which then makes me feel old when we’re at Happy Hour and some kid born in 1990 asks who Urkel is).

2) Picking up new hobbies: Rock climbing? Check. Jumping on the gourmet cupcake baking trend? Check. Traveling? Check and check.

There are several more in both columns, but in general I’m happy with my life, the realization of which makes the whole afternoon’s cupcake-eating-faux-crisis worthwhile. Or maybe it’s my Happy Hour glass (read: bottle) of wine telling me that’s that the case…