There's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last

I absolutely cannot say it any better than this.

Have a fabulous and safe New Year's!!

Ignorance if your new best friend

So, as we have learned, I might like music just a little bit. Just a little tiny bit. Maybe. Either way, every once in a while there are a few songs that just tend to relate WAY too closely to current situations. I guess I can probably explain myself just a tad better, don't you think?

Recently, I have either become more aware of, been informed of, or just had to deal with the fact that girls in general tend to dislike me.

If I'm a bad person, you don't like me
I guess I'll make my own way
It's a circle, a mean cycle
I can't excite you anymore

Where's your gavel, your jury
What's my offense this time?
I'm not a judge but if you're gonna judge me
Sentence me to another life

I cannot explain just how frustrating it is to know that there are people who have come to loathe and despise you for seemingly no reason whatsoever. Over the course of the holiday (which has been lovely) I made a trip to HomeTown to see the parental units. I don't know what it is about being back there, but somehow it seems like every little bit of high school drama that SHOULD have been left behind when I left high school comes flying out of the woodwork. This girl doesn't like me because she thinks I don't like her. This other girl doesn't like me because of a preconceived notion and assumptions that aren't anywhere close to the truth. This one doesn't like me because she misconstrued only a fragment of a conversation she happened to overhear. That one is blaming me for things that are so far out of my control I'm not sure how I'm supposed to have had a part in them.

You don't have to believe me, but the way I see it
Next time you point a finger I might have to bend it back and break it off
Next time you point a finger, I'll point you to the mirror

To be perfectly honest, the whole thing is starting to drive me up the wall. I mean, really, it's been an ongoing joke since at least high school. I am better friends with guys, erego, girls don't like me? Sure. If you have a boyfriend/fiance/husband, you probably dislike me too. At least that's what my track record's been.

Most of the time it seems that I'm able to shake this off better than anything else. It usually doesn't bother me, but I don't know what it's been about this weekend. Maybe it was that I heard about quite a few all in a couple short hours' time. Maybe it was being back in HomeTown where all that high school drama first started. Maybe it was actually seeing friends from high school. A hormonal imbalance? I'm not sure. But it annoyed me.

I honestly don't care if someone dislikes me, as long as there's a reason for it. It has always bothered me if I've been hated for no reason at all. Seems like a waste of energy.

Yet, I'll say what I always say. Whatever. It doesn't matter. It never has. Just every once in a while, it gets to me. Sometimes I wish I didn't know about it.

However.

I've got no time for feeling sorry.

Welcome to My World

You know, every time my face grows back after getting completely rocked off, I up and go to yet another kick ass concert that ends up doing the same thing. After Incubus completely wiped it out, I went to see Sick Puppies (and subsequently developed a huge girl crush on Emma....I'll show you partly why). Since then, my face has had plenty of time to grow back. Today? It's all gone again. I mean all gone. Let's go over my evening so you can all cringe with jealousy, shall we?



This is the lead singer (and a blurry bassist) for a local band called BrookRoyal. I first heard them at this past PointFest, which is a music festival my favorite radio station puts on twice a year. and was instantly enamored. They were even better this time. And I'm fairly certain I caught the lead singer's eye. I think this mostly because he pointed at me and smiled when he noticed I was singing along. I love me some local band goodness. Go do yourselves a favor and check them out. Seriously.



Here is my girlcrush Emma from the Sick Puppies. Not only is she super cute, but she rocks the hell out of that bass. It makes me endlessly happy to be able to see a badass rocker chick who can hang just as well with the guys as anyone. Their set was excellent as well, playing a few of their very upbeat and very well known songs, which got the crowd into it. Also, I got to meet the band today (!!!) and am now in possession of two signed album covers. No, I'm not kidding. Yes, they were SUPER nice, sticking around to meet everyone they possibly could. My DJ buddy has 100% confirmed this, and as he's interviewed them a time or two, I'm taking my experience plus his word and calling it a verifiable fact.



So here's where things literally get a little fuzzy. First off, my phone wouldn't get a decent picture of Jacoby of Papa Roach. This is him, I swear. But that man did NOT stop moving the entire time. THE. WHOLE. TIME. And they had a 45 minute set. That kind of cardio has to be amazing for you. Anywho, because he wouldn't just slow the hell down (which made for one of the most high energy shows I've ever been to, so don't take that as a complaint), I couldn't get a clear picture. Also, because the crowd was so lively, the number of crowd surfers was just insane. I've never seen that many at one show. Well, at least not from the pit. The memory of a few of their songs are a bit fuzzy as I was concerned for my life. Or at least my forehead. Alas, I was not successful in keeping my cranium away from metal surfaces and after some kid landed on me, I became the proud owner of a lovely lump over my left eye. Add that to the rib, shoulder, and elbow bruises from being landed on, kicked, and crushed, I'm fairly beat up. And you know what? I still fucking love the pit.



Hi Ben. Yep. Ben. Breaking Benjamin Ben. One of the first things he said to the crowd was that his throat was acting up so he was going to need a little assistance from the audience. It is a commonly known fact (at least here) that St. Louis is Breaking Benjamin's favorite city to play in besides their home town. And I'd say we give their home town a damn good run for their money. The crowd was entirely on their feet....even in the nosebleed sections. Hands and arms were constantly in the air. But the thing that absolutely drove home for me just how much this city loves that band was the amount of people I heard and saw singing the newest and as of yet not on the radio songs from their newest album. The one that's been out for not even two months. It was amazing. The cherry on my music sundae (on a Sunday!!) was the Breaking Ben drumstick I have in my possession. I felt much better about not hanging on to one pick (it was right in my hand!!) due to my later acquisition.

The only downsides fell with the weather (40degrees is not conducive to very long outdoor waiting...ahem, 3.5 hours outside), the lack of food or water (there was NO WAY I was getting out of that line), and the ridiculous pressure in my bladder at the end of a 9 hour hiatus. The fact that a guy I sold my extra ticket to offered me shrooms was just funny.

And it was so unbelievably, without question, beyond fucking worth it.

Next up? The Veer Union on Wednesday, then Janus in January. Looks like I may be faceless for a while.

It was all good

For the record, I will laugh out loud every single time I see this. Every single time.

Boys are silly.

Also, the last situation I discussed will probably be put on blogging hiatus for a while. It is mentally and emotionally exhausting, and even the thought of writing about it makes me a little nauseous right now. If you really want to know, though, let me know. We'll work something out.

Here We Are, Part Three

And now, the emotional one wherein I say fuck a lot and try to resemble a somewhat literate person

Ok, so since last Tuesday, the following has happened:

• My mom AND baby sister both told me they wouldn't mind if I ended up with him
• I spent Thanksgiving racked with guilt for the fights he was having, would have, has had
• I felt guilty again for how much she's had to deal with on my account. Not by my own actions, but by the actions of those around me
• I cried
• I got a phone call from him telling me he thought things were going to be ok
• I got an email from him telling me it might not be completely ok, as he's never seen her as mad as she was when he mentioned me
• I cried again
• He told me that she had tried to make him promise to not contact me, even when she was signing up for eHarmony and meeting other guys
• I learned that she has said some awful things about me, the details of which I was denied from knowing
• He called, we talked, I cried. A-fucking-gain
• He asked me out on an official first date, with a time to be determined sometime eventually
• I said yes

Oh holy fucking shit I said yes.

Let's see if I can sort some of this out.

I think my emotions towards all of this have run the complete gamut of possible emotions.

I have felt sympathetic for his wife. He's told me he hasn't been the world's greatest husband, and I know for a fact he's done things in regards to me that probably ate her alive inside. And I feel terrible for that.

I have felt awful for their daughter, who has to deal with a mother who is upset, parents who fight a lot, etc. I don't want her to grow up thinking badly about either of them, and it may be selfish, but I don't want her to hate me either. I adore that kid.

I have sprinted from overly excited to see him to worried about what would happen because of it to exhilarated I was getting my friend back to confused about what I even felt about him to angry that he ignored his wife about their daughter.

And then. Oh and then.

Then I felt fucking pissed off. Why? I'll tell you why. Because the things that have been said about me have been unfounded, inconsiderate, and just plain mean. I know they were mean because he TOLD ME they were mean. I understand that she is a mother and I'm not, so I have no way of knowing what it's like to have that protective nature over your child. I understand that she is a wife and I'm not, so I couldn't possibly know what sort of pain she must have dealt with whenever he wasn't honest. HOWEVER. I have done absolutely nothing to her maliciously. I have tried my fucking hardest to make it abundantly clear that I was not trying to steal her husband. I have done everything in my power to be cooperative to her wishes. I didn't try to even contact him once he was back from Iraq because I knew she'd be upset. She was who I bought a better baby shower gift for than some of my friends have gotten. She's the one we took to the Alice in Chains concert when someone else backed out. She's the one I've sat and had conversations with, trying to listen to her as a woman and be sympathetic. She's who I backed up any time he would be frustrated. She's whose feelings I suggested he needed to consider and validate when they were having issues. And now this? They're getting a divorce and she still doesn't want him to see me? Not even just see me, but not speak to me, not contact me, basically act as if I don't exist and as though we haven't been friends for nearly a decade.

What. The. Fuck.

I have tried putting myself in her shoes. I have tried to be understanding and patient, but goddammit, I am not in her shoes. I am in my shoes, and I'm pissed. They are getting a divorce, so why the hell does she even care?

I am not a bad person.

Beyond all of the guilt and the anger, though, I'm hurt. It honestly hurts my feelings that someone could dislike me so heartily, could be so adamant about keeping someone away from me, when I don't think there is any reason for it. It hurts that she doesn't even want me around her daughter, as though I'd do anything harmful to a completely innocent child. It hurts that I don't know whether having him as a friend will even continue or if he'll decide to pander to her wishes and stop speaking to me. It hurts that he did already anyway. And it makes me cry. If you didn't know this, I'll tell you now, I HATE crying. Hate it. Black-hearted passion kind of hate. Even still, I have been a blubbering mess. It's annoying.

What hurts the most, though, is knowing that in a way, I did this to him. I let my significant other take away my friend. I put him through this years ago, and now, I am getting what I deserve.

So what happens now? His dad told him, "Son, you two have the worst timing in the world. But you also have such a natural chemistry, you owe it to yourselves to at least go out on one date." And he's right. It dawned on me the other day while on the phone with Nic that he is my 'What If' guy. He's the only guy where I still wonder if I'd reacted differently what would have happened. Nic will always say that the potentially painful things that could happen will never hurt as badly as not ever having the opportunity to learn otherwise. I know she's right too. And I've run out of reasons to keep saying no.

This doesn't mean I'll put my life on hold while he's deployed. This doesn't mean I won't date anyone else. It means we'll see.

But oh my god, I didn't say no.

Here We Are, Part Two

You'd have thought nothing had changed at all that night. We sat in his parents' kitchen, talking, laughing, just hanging out. But things had changed. Instead of some sort of soda, both of us sat with beers in our hands. And instead of the trivial nonsense we used to talk about, we discussed things that make it hard to deny that we had become adults.

He briefly touched on their situation while we sat there. I made a comment to him about being really hesitant to even drive out to HomeTown, worried that she was going to be mad at him for it. And then he said something that absolutely floored me.

"You know what? Fuck her. We're getting divorced, I already told her, and it's time I started being friends with whoever I want again."

Do I seriously get my friend back? Really?

When I left that night, I had a hard time focusing on anything but that. Did that mean I was going to be able to talk to him when I wanted, and not be worried that I was getting him in trouble? The idea was a novel one.

As I'd promised, I returned the next day, beer pong utensils in hand, just in time for him to leave to go hunting with his sister and father. I knew this ahead of time, and had planned to spend the day with his daughter and mother. It took about 30 seconds for his daughter to warm up to me. She's always liked me, so I can't say that I was overly surprised by that. She and I spent the day playing and throwing rocks and reading books and running and giggling. I taught her how to say 'enchilada' and 'salsa' and 'burrito.' Guess what we had for lunch?

By the time they returned from hunting, complete with a field-dressed doe, she wouldn't even let me go. She buried her face in my neck when she saw the deer hanging in the tree, which of course prompted me to take her inside.

We all spent the evening playing, running around the living and dining room, away from him because "daddy was a tickle monster." Every time he'd claim that he was going to get her, she'd giggle as she repeated after me. "No way, dude." At one point, I tossed her into an oversized chair and threw myself over her. She squealed and giggled, saying "Now you can't get me." Once I was hanging upside down by my ankle, she said "uh oh" and ran. It was a sucker punch to the gut that night knowing, AGAIN, that she could have been mine. That the evening couldn't have been far from the truth had things gone just a little differently. It was weird. Then she had her bath, I painted her nails, and off to bed she went.

Once she was in bed, the drinking games began. Old high school friends came over, many laughs were had, and then, surprisingly, everyone left early. By 11pm early. Which left just him and me.

He challenged me to a game of beer pong downstairs, and certain memories flooded back to me. That basement, his old room, that door frame.

And then we talked. Actually talked. Opened up, laid bare emotions, spoke to one another. About everything. Why his marriage wasn't working, what it took for him to finally end it, what his plans were for the future, how difficult Iraq had been both there and coming home, why I was so cynical, how badly my ex had actually affected me, his daughter. Everything.

For the second time that night, though, I felt sucker punched by one little thing he had said. He had told his wife that I was spending time with him. She wasn't happy, but said she understood, yet made one request. She didn't want their daughter spending a lot of time with me.

Well fan-fucking-tastic. I hadn't just spent eight hours with a two and a half year old who is so much of a sponge that she was mimicking everything I said all day or anything. She knew my name, and I was fairly certain she wouldn't hesitate to mention me once she got back to her mother. That one statement upset me enough to absolutely annihilate him in beer pong. Mad Bradshaw equals accurate beer pong player Bradshaw. Overlooking that one request of his wife was bound to have severe outcomes. I knew she wouldn't be happy, neither with him nor me. So what could I do? At that point, nothing. I'm not one of the Men in Black. I don't have the mind eraser thing.

I did my best to push it out of my mind and just enjoy the fact that I had him for company that night. One topic we touched on was my own awful relationship so many years earlier. He asked me if there was anything anyone could have done to "save" me from it. I was as honest as I knew how to be. He deserved that much.

"Once I was in the relationship? No. I had to figure it out on my own. But going way back, if you had been single, I wouldn't have looked twice at him."

When I told Nic about that, she asked me if it had really been fair to say to him. I told her it may not have been, but it was the truth. He and I have been through some significant ups and downs through the course of our friendship, and he deserved that level of honesty from me. Our timing has never, ever been ideal, with other relationships, school, the military, distance, etc.

I didn't leave until 300 that morning.

Then last Monday the first shoe fell (sidenote: where the hell did that saying come from?). Apparently his daughter's first words to her mother once they got home was, "Look, Mommy, Bradshaw painted my nails." Woops. Great, so now his wife will hate me more. What else could happen?

On Tuesday, down came the other shoe. She was furious with him and made that very clear. She was angry that he had spent time with me, that I was the first person he'd called after telling her about wanting a divorce. That act confirmed in her mind what she thought she already knew. He told me in her mind it was pretty much as though we'd gone ahead and slept together. And I'd barely even touched him. They fought and she cried and they fought some more. Their daughter kept asking her "What's wrong, Mommy?" And then he told me what I knew he'd been bracing himself to tell me for 24 hours.

"We're not going to be able to talk for a while. Not until she calms down."

He apologized for everything, telling me he hoped we'd be able to still be friends when all was said and done. And I cried. In a bar. Then realized, and told him, that I deserved it. I'd abandoned him when I was with my ex.

Karmic. Fucking. Retribution.

Knowing that didn't make me feel any better.

Coming tomorrow, my overly emotional reaction, what's happened since, and hopefully the end of this obnoxiously verbose story.