Burning Bridges

“It don’t matter which way you go

When you’re callin’ the highway your home

When every old town’s just the past burning down

It don’t matter which way you go.”

Waylon Jennigs, Reno and Me

This is a story. A story of burning bridges, allowing time to pass – settling it aflame and watching it burn again.

Something happened in my life recently that caused me to look back to my more recent past. I’ve felt miserable since it happened – miserable since he tried to walk back into my life. I knew it wasn’t a good time for me to be alone, so I picked up my journal and walked to the pub near my house.

While I waited for my order, I opened my journal. I intended to get back into the habit of expressing gratitude. Instead I found myself flipping through the pages, wondering what had happened to the gal that had written those words just over two years ago. I was stressed, but I was hopeful. I was happy. I was in l in love and I expressed love to so many. I had my heart broken and saw it mended again. I don’t recognize her, the person that penned those words of love, hope and happiness, but I want to be her. She radiates a life perspective that I miss very much.

She felt connected to everything. She heard the heartbeat of the Universe. I'll find you again, Cherished Version of Myself.

I had to ask myself how I got to where I am now. I have been accused of not being entirely transparent (notably by anonymous strangers), of painting myself in the best possible light while throwing someone else under the bus. I see that as an untrue accusation. I’m about to tell the story of what is arguably my greatest shame in life.

Several years ago I met a man. He was mysterious and intriguing. He was intelligent and witty. He brought a sense of excitement to my life on many levels. We had an intense attraction to one another. It boiled down to the most savage sense of carnality; we existed in our own orbit, drawn to each other in a very visceral sense. On another level, we connected intellectually.

I’ve only called him Spaniard. That’s right, Fucking Spaniard. He had a knack for picking up the pieces in my life when I could not.

Then I learned about Her. Not just Her, but others as well. I was oblivious. I had even been in his house and didn’t think for once that there was another woman in his life. I blindly believed what he told me and easily explained away things that should have been regarded with suspicion. The words regarding his own personal life were often few, and that should have sent me packing. I know better now, but I didn’t then. He wasn’t married to Her, but I’m sure he was a key figure in Her life and I’m certain She didn’t know about me.

When I knew his secret I cut him out of my life. 

Fate must have cursed me when our paths crossed again. I found myself a willing participant in older patterns of behavior. Our connection had only intensified by the time we spent apart.

We immersed ourselves in our formed religion of acts of worship for the other.

So, there I was, carrying on with a man that I knew was spoken for. We carried on for a couple of months. I was acting against my own moral compass, causing a growing dissonance between what was at the center of my core and what I was doing. It was literally tearing me apart from the inside out. 

I turned to a poor coping mechanism I relied on after I found myself in the wake of an assault. I'm not sure if it was coping or self harm, but I tried to drink myself into oblivion once again.

The war I was waging on myself escalated. It came to a peak when I woke up one night in a detox center. I had no idea how I’d gotten there. I was afraid. I was shamed. A woman next to me was coming down from her cocaine high. I don’t belong here. All I could think about was Merlin and that I needed to be home with him. He needed me to be there. An officer pulled me aside to talk to me. He told me to be comforted by the fact that I hadn’t hurt anyone and I was unlike the ‘regulars’ he saw come in and out of there. He said this was my wakeup call. I’d made a bad decision.

I had to take a time out. I had to force myself to look inward and face my actions. I was knowingly causing potential harm to a person I didn’t even know. I was the other woman. I was the one destroying someone else’s life solely for my own selfish wants and desires. Spaniard had to go.

I'm not proud of the role I played in this.

I eventually realized he was a danger to me. I don’t say a danger to everyone, because I can’t speak for them. I can speak for his personality type and mine. He has an ability to compartmentalize his life and it scares me. He had me, he had Her, he had others. These were separate lives to him. Perhaps it scares me because I’ve never met anyone with that ability. Maybe it scares me for good reason. I don’t know the answer right now.

Working as a trainer for FBI hostage negotiators, Spaniard has some very potent psychological tools. For his line of work, that’s an asset. For me, that’s toxic. I fail to compartmentalize my own life and I have no basis in tactics of manipulation or psychological warfare. My involvement with him would only lead to my own self destruction – possibly slitting my wrists and bleeding out. He told me that we were linked and would not be severed. For my own survival, he and I could not coexist.

It would only lead to destruction - and it would be mine. Possibly Hers, too.

I pray that She would never now about me. I pray She never knows about the others because I imagine that would be devastating. I don’t know if I could live with myself if She knew that I didn’t consider how my actions would affect Her because I didn’t care. I was only after what made me feel happy.

Then I sent an e-mail to Spaniard. I knew a face to face conversation with him would result in his continued presence in my life to some capacity. I typed out as compassionately as I could that he could simply not be a part of my life – and this was for my own emotional wellbeing. I tried to explain that we simply couldn’t be. His response was that until I could accept unconditional love I was to never contact him again.

Done.

Time passed. I moved to another part of the city. I never contacted him again. It had been a little over a year when he sent me an e-mail. I blocked his e-mail. A month later he sent me a text. I changed my number. Yesterday, he called me at work. At. Work. I listened in shocked silence. I asked him how he found my number. He told me he simply called and asked for me. I told him I couldn’t talk. I was working. He asked if I still had his number. I lied and said I did. He told me to use it sometime and then I hung up the phone.

This is one representation of part of the internal commotion taking place in my psyche.

I’ve thought for some time that if he wanted to find me he would. I hope my assumption is wrong. After Spaniard sent the e-mail, I thought I saw him at the pub near my house when I was out with my brother. I must have looked terrified. My brother noticed me watching the man across the room, visibly worried. I couldn’t see his face, he had his back turned to me, but he had the same physique, he wore similar clothes, his voice sounded familiar. I had to explain. I had to tell my brother about my actions of selfish stupidity. There have been no Spaniard sightings since then.

So, he found me at work. I’d never give him that number. Hell, I’d even moved on to another department since I last saw Spaniard. The bastard called me from a blocked number. I felt myself hit with a wave of emotions I’m still struggling to identify. Offhand, I’d say I feel fear, anger, and shame. The only thing I’m certain of is that he can’t be in my life. He just can’t.

I did the only thing I could think of, which was to call our safety department at work. I explained my situation. The woman who listened was understanding and empathetic. She recommended that I remove all traces of myself online, starting with LinkedIn. I invested my time in that wretched profile so potential employers would hire me. I’m not ready to give it up yet.

My employer has flagged me in our system. No one can look me up in our online database. While administration has my information, an alert pops up to not give any of my information. It’s as if I don’t exist where I work. I’ve turned his name over to our safety department. If Spaniard tries to use his ties with law enforcement he won’t get anywhere.

And that’s my story of burning bridges. That’s my story of paying for my sins on Earth. During my lowest point, when I woke up in a detox center next to people coming down off of some pretty hardcore stuff – I feel as if a part of me died that night and I’ve failed to resurrect it.

I have no secrets now. I’ll work on finding the person I lost during my lowest point in my recent adult life. Maybe I’ll dance in the ashes after I’ve watched it all burn down. 

Warfare

My experience with dating so far has led me to this conclusion: It really all boils down to psychological warfare. Also, people in general are idiots. On any online dating site it’s commonplace to see things written such as “Be real” and “Not into mind games” and “No drama”. Those lines tell me the following: 1. You are probably the biggest phony that ever lived. 2. You are psychologically flawed and must be in control at all times. 3. You obviously have drama in your life or you wouldn’t have mentioned it. You have unresolved issues and are projecting your nonsense into cyber world. And then there’s my all-time personal favorite message I get from time to time, “R u real?” No, dumbass. I actually put effort into a profile for your own amusement and gawking pleasure! (Side note: I do NOT upload revealing photos). There was also that one guy that said something along the lines of, “You’re hot, but I’m not sure about you.” Umm . . . . Thanks. Blocked!!!

There was also an inebriated text sent in the wee hours of the morning. Lord help me. 

Of the few I actually have let into my life at least to some small degree I’ve found myself wondering why he hasn’t called or messaged me in several days. What did I do to irritate him? Was I not forthcoming enough in who I truly am? OMG?! Do I lack the level of self-awareness to truly know myself?! And then I remember that I’m one of the most awesome people ever, go cuddle with the hound and get on with life.

I'd choose this guy any day. 

I think I have a far different take on what a guy is actually saying than what he really means. I didn’t really realize this until I was telling my landlord last night how extremely bored I am by most of these guys. If they can’t match me intellectually or emotionally and are unable to carry a semi-intelligent conversation, why do they bother wasting my time?! My latest irritation came when I met a guy in person who seemed interesting enough. The entire time he talked about his connections with local big names of which I know nothing of because that really doesn’t matter to me and also about all of the money he’s made. Nice enough – it just struck me as full of himself and materialistic. From my landlord’s perspective, this was merely a guy’s way of saying he could take care of me.

Then there's the guy who just can't tear himself away from his phone. When in doubt, spill your drink and run. 

There’s a Huffington Post article that resonates with my own thoughts about how ridiculous this entire process really is. Here are a few of my favorite highlights: 1. Thou shalt never maketh plans to hang out in advance, for thou are casual and disinterested. 2. Thou shalt never compliment thy lover. Speaketh only in condescending words. 3. Thou shalt covet many, many lovers, preferably in the same neighborhood. Thou shalt speak of them often. 4. Thou shalt remember, above all: The lover who cares the least wins: One sentimental ‘thinking of you’ could derail all the progress you’ve made! Go into Code Red Aloof mode. Ignore your babe’s texts for hours-long gaps and reply with one-word answers. In no time, you’ll prove your lack of investment and thus restore the balance of power.

Because winning is more important than anything else, right? 

It’s just insanity – our own struggle for power and to always have the upper hand. Every single time I feel the urge to want to blow someone off I’m starting to question why. Did I feel slighted by him and am turning this into a vendetta to protect my own ego? Why did his failure to contact me irritate me so much and how does this tie into my own issues of abandonment? Why does dating feel like one of the hardest games of tug-of-war I’ve ever played?

What I can say is this: I’m paying close attention to not just how he treats me and those close to him, but also how he treats the average person that might cross his path. If he can’t be kind to a stranger it’s highly unlikely he’ll be kind to me when I need him to be.

This loving of a heart. That's what matters. 

Something else that really gets me is that everyone has advice to give me. Everyone. Seriously. The attitude seems to be that because these people are married and I am not, clearly I have flawed logic and that’s why I’m still single so they have hoards of knowledge to bestow upon me! My personal favorite is the concept of a soul mate. I believed in that once upon a time – now I’m a firm believer that what you put into a relationship is exactly what you’ll get out of it. The idea that there’s one perfect guy out there for me and I only just have to find him for my life to feel complete and make myself whole is nonsense.

I love old and new friends - I just don't need the dating advice. Thanks. 

I’ve had very old friends reconnect with me lately. I love them, I do. The problem with their logic is that they still think they know me as the young teenager who hoped someone would rescue her from her nightmarish life. People change. I learned to save myself. I’ve been told that I come across as guarded. That’s probably true and I don’t see that as a bad thing. Being naïve and trusting didn’t do me any favors. I can still be open to the world without living my life like a bumbling idiot thinking that no one could possibly ever want to harm me or take advantage of me.

My dating woes are the least of my problems lately. My radiator blew on me last week, forcing me to take out whatever funds I had left in my account to fix it. I am officially in pauper status again. The silver lining to this is that while my car is now fixed, it forced me to ride my bike to work like I said I would. I’ve been doing 22 miles a day and royally kicking butt. I’m rather proud of myself for that – and also noted a few truths about myself that I had to admit. 1. I’m extremely competitive. How dare that guy pass me on the road?! I’m going to smoke him! 2. I get road rage on the bike, too. This isn’t just from other cyclists acting like total assholes, but also from cat calls and inappropriate stares. There are times I want to dismount my bike and bash in someone’s car window . . . . But then I remind myself of my awesomeness and carry on. 

I have been described as such . . . .But my main point is this: I am not out there for your personal viewing pleasure. I don't care how marvelous my breasts are. 

The Answer Is No

“Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional.” – Roger Crawford

Last night was the true test of my fake engagement ring to my fake fiancé. The outcome wasn’t quite what I wanted, but it will do for now. I missed dancing most of last week; my mother was in the hospital. Needless to say, I was very much looking forward to hitting the floor for some close embrace dancing.

First I chatted with a guy that was a few seats over from me. He looked at me the wrong way. I’ve heard it’s a fairly normal reaction for men to steer their gaze straight towards a woman’s cleavage – which is exactly what this guy did when I bent over in my seat to adjust my dance shoe. Not okay. I excused myself saying I needed to refill my water bottle and went to the opposite side of the room where there was fellow tango dancer that I know to some degree and trust him not to eye boggle me or make me feel threatened at all.

Dude, come on! I wasn't even dressed remotely close to this revealing.

Then there was the extremely angry, two-faced tango guy who I’m quite certain asks me to dance for the sole purpose of getting under my skin. I can tell him no, I know this – and yet I never do because I’m still not absolutely certain this action won’t come across as 1) insulting and 2) the Irish Lass looking like a cold-hearted a**hole. So I sat there as I saw him walking towards me thinking to myself, “Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact . . . . Crap! I just made eye contact. Then there was the cabaceo – and my immediate reaction is always a smile and a nod. So there I was, dancing next to the devil himself counting down every song and hoping it would be a short tanda. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I like how he looks at me, either – I really need to make a point of avoiding him as much as possible and for the life of me can’t figure out why I haven’t given him the cold shoulder, regardless of how mean some may perceive that act on my part. Is it really worth it? My guess is no. I don’t want to dance with the devil and I certainly don’t want him to touch me, either. Note to self: channel rage.

Yeah . . . That's pretty close to what I felt like.

Later on, I danced an amazing tanda with someone I had only met that evening. That’s one of the beautiful things about this dance. There’s an amazing synchronization of music, movement and synergy in tango that makes it so addictive. It was perfect – until the end when he asked me for my e-mail address. Who the hell are you, guy?  I told him I don’t give my contact information out to people I don’t know.

 . . . or my e-mail, or my real name.

I pride myself on nearly making it to the end last night. I headed out as the last set of the evening was playing. I ran into an acquaintance on the way out. He mentioned he had been in California. I said I was jealous and he told me I should go with him next time. Granted he and I have talked during tango and often have a good time together. He’s carefree, has a good sense of humor, and I laugh and smile a good deal when he’s around me – but still, I really don’t feel like I know him enough to pack up and head to California for a weekend. All I could think was, ‘Why?!’ I said nothing in response; I merely stared blankly and walked off – perhaps with a shallow smile on my face.

Did I mention he could probably be a stunt double for Chris Hemsworth? I want to be a stunt double, damnit.

I think I’ve reached the ultimate state of paranoia. Seriously, any male presence that is unfamiliar to me is perceived as a potential threat – even some that I do know but haven’t made a decision on whether or not they are a trustworthy person who has no ulterior motive or ill intention towards me.

Just in case I ever feel lonely and am tempted to seek comfort in the arms of another, I remind myself that no one else can mend my wounded heart . . . and also that tango is a great source of comfort in the arms of another without the emotional turmoil and wreckage that usually comes with it.  I remind myself how emotionally painful it’s been since the Beloved – and for now I’ll simply accept that my depth of feeling for him will make an excellent deterrent from even thinking about dating for a while – a very long while. 

I just want a life that's not entangled with someone else's for a while. 

When I'm not preoccupied with paranoia from fending off unwanted attention, I find that I have to remind myself more often than not to mentally stay put. Stay here. Stay now. This is where I am. I'm the type of person that thinks of every possible outcome before I make a move. Sometimes this serves me well, and sometimes this practice causes me to worry more about things that I don't even need to act on yet . . . and now know why I feel like I'm always running in circles. I've been thinking about the upcoming move and apartment hunting. It occurred to me that the hound has never been alone. He's always had Cassie and since I've been in Portland, I've lived in a very busy house in which there is almost always a human presence. I soon found my mind ridden with anxiety wondering how he would cope with this change and how he's coping with Cassie's absence and how the heck was I going to afford a dog walker or doggy  daycare? Stay here, Irish Lass. You're not there yet. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. For all I know, Merlin the hound will probably be perfectly content to have a couch all to himself all day.

They've attempted to block him from the couch . . . . I know he's quite proud of himself.

Karma, Suitors and Tango Cliques

“The ground we walk on, the plants and creatures, the clouds above constantly dissolving into new formations – each gift of nature possessing its own radiant energy, bound together by cosmic harmony.”  - Ruth Bernhard

I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve run into that are amazed by how I look these days. The word I hear the most is ‘radiant’. Not only do I take this as a huge compliment, but it also tells me that I have begun to process and let go of the pain I was feeling over the loss of someone I loved very deeply – the only person I’ve ever loved that deeply. Don’t get me wrong, there are still days I want to kick myself for everything that took place; not just my actions, but for the actions against me that I allowed. I am my harshest critic and I’m learning to be kinder to myself.

This is what people see in me - the wonder, the awe, the joy

Part of my ‘Chakracise’ is learning to reflect positively. One thought I’ve used quite a bit in meditation lately is this: “Every decision made is a choice between a grievance and a miracle. Relinquish the regret and choose the miracle.” I can look at some of the most ugly things in life I’ve experienced and even if I can’t find a miracle in the actual incident, I can still tell myself that I’m here. Considering the quantity of ugliness I’ve encountered throughout my life, I’d say I’m doing handling it quite smashingly. Even during the times I feel like I’m breaking and life is just too heavy, there is a miracle because I still strive to find something positive. There are days I have to push a little harder, but there is beauty. There is beauty and that’s a miracle.

“We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.” – Buddha

The more I’ve ventured out of my comfort zone while simultaneously gradually immersing myself in the world of tango I’ve discovered how very cliquish it is. I was told about these cliques, but had not yet witnessed these groups in action.

I went out last night to a venue I’d never been to before. I didn’t know a single soul there. A friend said she was definitely going and a couple of others said they may make an appearance. Guess who got stood up? Part of me thinks I had it coming simply for the way I treated someone recently, and this is where I go off on a tangent.

He recognized me when he spotted me on campus. I kept avoiding eye contact because I didn’t want to talk to him and I couldn’t for the life of me remember why. He did not pick up on my attempt to avoid him completely and approached me where I was sitting with my head down pretending to read. He asked me how I was doing. I couldn’t remember his name until he told me and I still couldn’t remember why I wanted nothing to do with him. He suggests we meet for drinks to catch up. I agreed to it simply because I desperately wanted to remember what it was about this guy that made me want to kick him.

THIS is the type of guy I attract. I'm doing something wrong. 

So, we meet for drinks and he talks about a sociology professor at PSU. He worships the guy and I happen to despise this professor. In fact, said professor landed himself in hot water a year ago for having affairs with his students. Note the plural? This professor in question isn’t a good person. As our conversation was taking place, I was still trying to remember why I stopped talking to this guy to begin with.

I went home that night. It was the beginnings of spring break and I had wanted to do some journaling for some time. It had been so long since I’d written in that book; when I opened it to begin writing I saw that my very last entry was about the guy who approached me on campus. I was then reminded why I didn’t want to associate myself with him: he had acted callously and unkind. So what do I do with this information? Please don’t judge me too harshly with the words that follow.

I receive a text from the guy who approached me at PSU and it was apparent from the beginning that he really only wanted to get in my pants . . . . not happening. So, he’d arrange to meet with me and I was consistently canceling at the last minute – and I’d make the dumbest excuses: I’m giving my dog a bath, I’m washing my hair, I’m practicing rocket science. Despite this, he persisted. I then began to blatantly ignore him for days at a time. I finally realized that what I was doing was just flat out wrong and I came clean and told him I didn’t want his presence in my life. He responded that I ‘had more to do’ with us not speaking for so long. Umm . . . I do not care. What I do care about is my behavior. In spite of him being a jerk, there’s really no reason for me to seek vengeance and take out all of my frustrations on him by being negligent and uncaring.

Yeah . . . I wasn't nice. I'm not proud of it. 

I think whatever we put into the Universe is what comes back. It’s not my place to act out against another. With that in mind, I think I deserved what happened last night. I’m generally a fairly outgoing person. I can strike up a conversation with just about anyone. Truth. When I first arrived there weren’t many dancers, so I saw someone sitting by herself, walked over, introduced myself and asked a million questions about her. She wound up being swept off by someone she dances with often.

Watch and learn . . .  or just keep swimming

So, I sat. I waited. I took in the scene. Even when I’m not dancing, I can learn a thing or two just from watching feet. As I sat there, it began to become more crowded as the night wore on. I then began to see the clique groups that had been mentioned. I started to tune into conversations; it was nothing more than blatant gossip. I felt like I was back in high school. In particular, the private high school that I loathed.

I thought people would grow out of this eventually. I'm beginning to have doubts. 

Eventually I see a friend of my former beloved walk in. I have seen her on campus countless times. I’ve smiled, waved; I’ve even said hello. Every time I’ve been ignored. I eventually gave up because it was obvious that she wanted nothing to do with me. Also, this was long before things between the former beloved and I went terribly wrong. The difference last night is that she acknowledged my presence by actually looking in my direction – but this was not to offer a smile, only an icy cold stare. I wasn’t particularly comfortable, especially because I didn’t know anyone in the room. Thank goodness for the wine. Truth.

I think there was an hour of the event left. I had grown tired of listening to the gossip and the looks of disdain from someone I hardly knew that reminded me of a person I loved and lost. It was just a bit too close of a connection for my liking. I texted the disgustingly cute barista that works in the coffee shop of the PSU library. He tells me to head his way and I oblige. ‘Radiant’ is the first thing he says when he sees me. He made me feel like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on and we spent a few hours catching up on our individual spring break escapades. I probably could have talked to him all night, we have done that on occasion, but he and I both are trying to stay on top of our last term at PSU. Instead I left smiling because his smile is infectious. Truth. I need more people like that in my life.

Complete acceptance and encouragement. I am thankful for the friends who keep cheering me on. 

While I have lately been described as radiant, I still question what sort of vibes I’m sending out to the world. Within the span of only two weeks, I’ve had several men attempt to enter my life and attempt to manipulate. I used to never see that sort of thing coming, now I can spot it before it even begins. If I say that I’m not available, I am not relationship material and I have no desire whatsoever to connect with you on any level – I mean it. One guy in particular wasn’t listening and attempting to use whatever flaws in my character that he knew of against me solely for the purpose of manipulation. I eventually went off. I didn’t hit below the belt, I didn’t call him names or say anything out of cruelty, I simply expressed anger and this surprised him. It surprised me, too. Ava grew a backbone. Who knew?

Seriously, Dude. I couldn't have said it any plainer. 

I can look at the vast majority of the last few weeks as a grievance: the slew of men that are black on the inside that manage find their way into my orbit, the fact that I’m attracting aforementioned men, the cliquishness of a community that is supposed to be ‘social’, the flakey people, the consistent reminders of someone I loved very much and the glares of someone who doesn’t know me. I choose not to. I embrace the miracle.

I see a miracle in my ability to stand up for myself for once, a miracle in the beauty of a dance that I still love, a miracle in the joy I feel when I’m dancing in any form of movement, and a miracle in the people in my life that continue to remind me that I am treasured, valued, radiant and worthy of the best things in life. Today is a miracle. I embrace it. 

I've got the world on a swing. Not string; the swing is far more entertaining. 

"There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." - Albert Einstein

Of Masks and Men

Every trial endured and weathered in the right spirit makes a soul nobler and stronger than it was before. ~ James Buckham

Throughout most of my life, I’ve run from adversity and conflict of any sort. I’d hide my true self from others, allowing them to create an image of what I should be in their own mind. I was often shunned for my beliefs and way of thinking that tended to be different. I’ve always been different. Consequently, I always saw myself as the problem. I’m not sure if pretending to be something I wasn’t was some sort of evolutionary survival method, or that I was made to feel ashamed for my nonconformist attitude. Either way, I wore a mask that was not my own for many years. In fact, I wore several.

I’m not sure when exactly I decided I needed to set my foot down, but at some point I did. I feel like the entire world would oppress me if I’d let it . . . but I’m not going to. My family has come to terms with my oddities of smudging and love of the Earth Mother. At first, I was told that it was only a psychological thing. My philosophy is ‘whatever works’. Don’t rain on my parade!

Again I address the topic of men. As mentioned in my previous blog, I’ve had a knack for attracting the wrong type. It’s not that they were evil, or bad in all aspects; I think I could find a trait to love in just about anybody. My free spirit is usually what attracts people to me. Perhaps they thought I was what they wanted and that turned out to not be the case. Regardless, I feel as if they made every attempt to snuff the life out of me.

With that in mind, I’ll be spending some time thinking about what I want in a significant other and hope that by doing so the right person will come along. If not, so be it. I’ve learned that we need to make our own happiness in this world.

Here’s my thoughts (requirements) thus far:

1 Must be a dog lover. I have two dogs of my own. Love me, love my dogs.

2 Be honest to me about who you are. I don’t like liars and I despise those that lie about their interests to catch my attention

3 Love outdoors. I have a deep connection to nature. This is where I find comfort, solace and can rejuvenate myself when I’m feeling worn down.

4 Mobility; be active. Be spontaneous because this is one of the greatest gifts in life.

5 Having traveled is a plus. I feel it is important to see other parts of the world, immerse in a different culture, and have meaningful experiences.

6 Generosity – not just towards me and not necessarily with tangible things (unless chocolate cake is involved). Share your thoughts and dreams with me.

7 Confidence, but not self absorbed – I think it’s important to be proud of what you do and your contribution to the world. However, thinking you’re better than everyone else is a turn off.

8 Motivation – have the desire to continue to grow. Stagnant water is bad for to drink, so is a stagnant lifestyle.

9 Patience – I want someone who can be patient with me and others in his life. 

10 The ability to laugh at yourself . . .  because I laugh at myself on a daily basis and it’s much more amusing when I have a partner in crime.

11 Dance outings and karaoke – Of course, I’m not set in stone. I like to have fun and don’t want a couch potato who not only refuses to go kayaking with me, but also refuses dancing and karaoke.

12 Smarts – impress me with your knowledge and challenge me to a game of chess!

13 I think looks fall into here somewhere. I’m still trying to decide exactly what physical aspects I like in the opposite sex. All I can say for now is that I know what I like when I see it.

14 Loving - love me for who I am and not what you'd like me to be. I have had so many cross my path that are attracted to my free spirit and fun loving nature only to try to change me and break me in the process. I will not stand for this. 

15 Bonus points if you're Irish!

16 - Don't treat me as an afterthought. I am worth more than that.