Currently Chasing: My Car

I love my car. Right now it’s a little dirty…and there is definitely two huge cardboard boxes, a printer, a 12-pack of diet soda, three pairs of shoes, a shirt, a jacket, two umbrellas, a bunch of very important documents, a combination cover and an old style boom box in my trunk, but the fact that all of it fits just reminds me of how much I love my car. It’s definitely dirty enough to write something even dirtier on it and the area in front of my seat is home to no less than seven French fries.

My middle console in deep need of cleaning out. There are photos, money, pens, receipts and air fresheners in there and my glove compartment contains everything except a valid registration and proof of insurance. My daughter has used the door pockets as a personal library and the leg area on the passenger side plays host to my gloves, sun glasses and every water bottle I’ve ever drank from in my life.

Did I mention I love my car? My seats do not heat up. My old car had seats that heat up, but that would have been too expensive up an upgrade for my current car. My windshield wipers aren’t rain activated. Did you even know that was a thing? That your wipers could detect rain and automatically begin wiping it away? I didn’t.  I know now only because there was a list of things the dealer made sure to tell me I wouldn’t be getting . It’s fine though. My eyes can also detect rain and then my hand can basically automatically hit the thingy on the side that will automatically make my wipers wipe.  And all of that is free. Came with the car. No extra cash required.

My car is not a convertible like my last car was…but I do have a nice sun roof. I don’t always recognize my car in a crowd because It’s white and looks like a lot of cars I see out in the parking lot. My last car was easily recognizable. So I have to kind of actually remember where I park now, which is a total bitch.

My new car will also never have remote start. This makes me very sad. Remote start is just not recommended for my vehicle. There is some place that will basically fuck my shit up and put it in my car anyway for about a grand…but I’ve decided I’m just going to have to go out and start it myself. It’s a sacrifice. But I love my car, so I’m willing to do it. Every single day, as much as it pains me, I’m going to go out in the freezing cold and non-remotely start my car.

I could go buy a different car. An easily recognizable car. A car with heated seats. A car with rain detection, a convertible, a car with remote start. But I picked this car and by God, It’s mine. I’ve invested a lot of money into it, and it’s not like the old days…when I felt like cars were disposable and I couldn’t wait to get rid of the one I had in search for the next shiny thing on the lot? Sometimes even test driving other vehicles, knowing I was in no position to get a new car. Wanting a new car simply because my current one needed a little work, or a new brake light, or gas. I’ve learned to hang on to my vehicle. Shop for quality and then just love what I have.

I need to start applying this same logic to my future relationships.

No one car is going to be perfect. Even if you searched for years and finally found one that you think is perfect, you will realize after you drive it off the lot that the trunk isn’t quite long enough for your golf clubs. Or the leather seats really heat up and burn in the summer. Or the GPS won’t allow you to make changes while you’re driving. Something will become an issue.

Same with people. No matter how long you spend looking, and test driving, and negotiating…at the end of the day there is going to be something about that person that you don’t like, or wish you could change. But you can’t focus on that. Instead, focus on the things you like.

Like the leg room, and the Mercedes Benz symbol in your front grill, and all the space in the trunk, and the Mercedes Benz symbol in your front grill.

In the past I have had some lame reasons to dump men.

“I don’t like the way you laugh.”

“I don’t like the way you smell.”

“I don’t like that you don’t make enough money to buy me a Pandora bracelet.”

“I don’t like that you are skinnier than me.”

“I don’t like the way you take an hour to say something that would take someone else 10 minutes to say.”

Whatever. There was always something. My point is, you have to start at some point, just realizing that nothing is perfect. Or realizing that everything that is wrong with something is what ultimately makes it perfect for you.

If my car always needs to be cleaned…then there is no way I can get it dirty right?

It’s this kind of logic that helps me sleep at night.

Currently Chasing: Shoes

There is something to be said for knowing what to expect.

The last four months have been a complete circus. I became someone I didn’t recognize, got myself into more debt than I would have liked, and there have been broken hearts all around.

The other day my daughter broke a glass. I didn’t clean it up right away, I just looked at it. All the tiny pieces. I told her to be careful. To go put shoes on. It was no longer safe to just walk around freely. I picked up the big pieces, and did my best to sweep up the small ones.

Later that night, without shoes, I walked through the kitchen, and wouldn’t you know it. I cut myself on the tiniest piece. And isn’t that how it always is.

Just when you think you’ve solved the problem of the broken heart…the minute you decide to trust that you don’t have to protect yourself, some little part of it that was left hidden somewhere comes out of nowhere and slices you.

The past cannot leave me alone. Or I can’t leave it alone. Like the glass, I’ve tried to pick up the big pieces and chuck them away..but the slivers, they are never fully gone.

One of these slivers has been a nice distraction. One of them turned in to a full on relationship. One is exactly what it was, is and always will be (lodged in my foot for all eternity most likely), and one other was just a complete mind fuck.

But the thing with the past is you always know what to expect. And maybe that is why I keep walking through that kitchen without socks or shoes.

The future is full of the unexpected. New people I’ve never met. New men who will learn how to break my heart in all new ways. Huge pieces of glass that someone else has already found a way to throw out. New addictions, new baggage, new new new. And unexpected.

Maybe that is why I keep letting my past pretend to be my future. Because I already know what to expect. The heart breaks will be the same. But hurt less and less each time. Emails and texts will be more of a game than a courting. Days without speaking will be a break and not a sign that the world is ending. It’s like a family … all these slivers. It’s like cousins and nephews that you don’t subscribe to on facebook, but then one day in the news feed you learn that one of them had a baby and BAM, you are buying a gift certificate to Toy’s R us and planning a trip out to see the new bundle of joy. Only, you forget to actually send the gift certificate out and use it to buy a Zumba Wii game instead and you can never quite find the time to make that trip happen. So eventually the emails stop. Until a few years later when they comment on a picture of you and then you start a conversation in your picture comments, and everyone else who commented is pissed they did because now they are ‘notified’ on every comment. And you make plans again to see each other. Only, it’s summer, and flying out in the summer is expensive. So you have to wait. And you get my point.

Same thing with these slivers. They are there…waiting to slice my foot open. And as much as it hurts to step on them, I still don’t wear shoes when I’m walking through that damn kitchen.

If you are a new guy who wants to date me … Please just save yourself the trouble and break up with yourself from me already.

If you are a sliver who wants back in my life…well, lovely, I’ve been expecting you.