Long Distance in a Long Pandemic

Boston and I have been dating a little over three months now, although it feels like longer. Originally, he was supposed to have visited 2 weeks ago, but due to the predicted surge in COVID-19 infections, we decided that it was better to delay the trip. Fast forward to this month. The original plan was that he would fly here and then we would fly to Boston together so I would meet some of his family, but, of course as things do in a pandemic, plans changed. Our flights were cancelled by JetBlue. It was too dangerous to have a family gathering, and, although we'd be social distancing, most likely we would just be cooped up in his tiny Boston apartment. We decided to extend his trip here instead. 

Now, instead of a 2-week stay here and me flying up to Boston afterwards, he will be staying with me for 3 weeks. Then, I'll fly up for July 4 weekend, even though nothing is probably happening in Boston by then. I'm hoping that my firm keeps us working remotely through that time so I can have a longer stay in Boston with him. One of the very few benefits of the pandemic is being able to have more freedom over my personal time by working remotely. 

I hope that, when things return to normal, my boss allows me to work remotely more often so I can spend more time with Boston. I'll float this idea to my boss when he's in a good mood, and hopefully he will be receptive to it since I've maintained my productivity. Of course, I won't mention Boston at all. The last thing I want is for my relationship to be weaponized against me by the firm. I've seen other employees' personal activities be weaponized against them. I've learned quickly that the less your co-workers know about you, the better. A workplace is not a family. 

The idea of having him stay with me for 3 weeks is both exciting and terrifying. It's exciting because we'll get to know each other better during that time, since this is probably going to be the closest thing to living together that we'll have before we actually live together. It's terrifying for the exact same reason. He's going to see every habit I have, and I can't masquerade it for a weekend. It will be full-blown, uncensored, me. I've been trying to get my apartment as decluttered as possible. To that end, I dropped off a HUGE donation to Goodwill of old shoes, clothes, and other miscellaneous items that I no longer used but were still in decent condition. I have only a few more things left to do to get the place to my satisfaction before he comes, and then he'll be here. I also cleared out a couple of drawers for him and cleared out a workspace for him at my dining room table. 

So how do we keep things alive while we're apart? For starters, we do regular date nights in addition to our regular nightly video chats. Our video chats feel like they last 15 minutes when, in reality, we're on the phone with each other for usually two hours. Date nights are different; we do an activity together. While he was at his apartment in Boston, it was us cooking a meal together. We took turns choosing the recipe. For the last month, he's been staying with his family since things were lonely in Boston. He hasn't been able to cook since he doesn't have dominion over the kitchen there. So we improvise - he will paint, I will bake or cook. 

I'm glad he's as dedicated to this relationship as I am. He makes a point to send me a little note during the day. He surprised me with a gift at Easter. He reminds me of our date nights. We plan our date nights together. We planned my birthday trip together (if we're still not in lockdown by the summer). It's all these little things that keep the relationship thriving. 

The other day, I was listening to Ryan Seacrest on the radio. A caller was complaining about how he met a girl right before the shutdowns, and he didn't know how to keep the momentum going with her. To my surprise, Seacrest suggested some of things that Boston and I were doing. I thought to myself, at least we're on the right track. The caller wasn't impressed. He said it was all "too hard." Seacrest's reply was, "Well, dating is hard." 

It is hard, and when it's long distance, it is really hard, but we know that this isn't going to last forever. Both of us are willing to move for each other, depending where we are when we're ready to tie the knot (yes, it's come up, because in a long distance relationship, you need to have an end game). 

For now, we take things a day at a time, knowing that the other person is worth it. I love that he reminds me of this periodically. "You're totally worth it." 

He's totally worth it, too. 

Photo Credit: travelpraylove.com 

Off the Market

My trip to Boston this weekend was absolutely epic. I flew up single, and came back with a boyfriend. 

I must confess that the portion of the trip leaving my town and being on the plane was nerve-wracking to the point that I wanted to cry. I was terrified of contracting the virus. There were way more people in the airport than I anticipated. I created a make-shift mask using one of my summer scarves, but after the damn thing kept falling and getting in the way, I ditched it. I knew it wasn't going to protect me anyway, so I threw myself to the mercy of staying as far away from people as possible. After all, I thought, I'm sure that the plane won't be so bad, and I would be able to work. 

But the flight was bad. It sucked, big time. 

There were tons of people on the flight. It was so crowded that I thought if I was going to get sick, today would be the day. This is it. I kept telling myself, though, that the trip was worth it. I focused on my destination and tried to bury myself in my work using the on-flight wifi. I didn't want to use a vacation day, so I was going to bill my ass off in the airport, on the plane, and a little bit once I got to his apartment. 

Once the plane landed, I relaxed. The excitement of seeing him set in. I couldn't wait. While I was waiting for my luggage (the airline checked my bag for me since the cabin space was so sparse), I met a lovely woman named Lisa with her service dog, a sweet Havanese. She was an older woman, and I agreed to help her get her luggage. She had two large, 50 lb. suitcases that she needed help with. She was a Boston resident and had brought her items from her summer home since she didn't know when she would return again. She asked me why I was flying in a pandemic. I felt like an idiot and responded, "My boyfriend lives here." (At this time, "Boston" and I weren't official, but it was easier to say than, "this guy I've been dating"). Once I said that, her eyes lit up. 

"Oh! A romance. How sweet. I hope he appreciates you flying here to see him, and that he will do the same." 

"Yes, he comes to see me in April, as long as they don't ground the flights." Part of me felt real fear at the prospect. 

"It'll work. Have faith." 

Just then, the luggage belt horn sounded, announcing our bags which, thankfully, arrived quickly. Boston hadn't gotten to the airport yet, giving me enough time to throw some makeup on my face. By the time I finished, Boston texted that he was pulling in. I went outside and felt the cool air. I was really here. 

And then when I saw him at the airport, with a smile, pulling up and taking my suitcase, all the fear  I felt from the morning washed away. He gave me a kiss on the mouth immediately, quipping that if I was infected, he was already screwed. We got home. 

I won't review every detail from the entire weekend, but I'll say this: the trip was worth the risk for me. Waking up next to him for the first time was amazing. The chemistry between us was pure electricity. We couldn't keep our hands off each other, and we shared more with each other in three days than I think we would have if we were in the same city. We grew so much closer. The best part was that he asked me to be his girlfriend. 

On Sunday morning, while we were holding each other confessing our feelings, he asked me how I felt about "making it official." 

"What, you mean, like I'm your girlfriend?" 

"Yeah, I mean, my girlfriend, and I'd be your boyfriend. I know it's a label, and I'm not saying I'm crazy about labels, but we could make it official." 

"I'm okay with that label," I said with a smile. 

That night, he deleted his dating apps. I deleted mine the next day. 

I felt tears welling up when we were parting at the airport. I held it in, because I still had hours of travel ahead of me. Logan airport was a ghost town. Security was a breeze because I was only one of two people walking through. 

I miss him, and I can't wait to see him again. He invited me to meet some of his family for Memorial Day weekend, but because of an arbitration, I can't fly up that Friday. 

"It's okay, you'll see them on July 4 weekend when you come up." 

Things are really moving forward, and I'm so happy. I guess some might expect me to say that I wish it wasn't happening in the middle of a pandemic, but I won't say that. I won't say that because I've been waiting a very, very long time for a good man that I care about and who cares about me, and I think I have found one. I deserve to be happy, and as selfish as this sounds, I'm not going to put my relationship on hold. We will take precautions, and we will stay away from others, but we won't stay away from each other. 

 

Love in the Time of Coronavirus

I finally met someone I like, but he lives in Boston. Air travel is risky these days. Do we stop seeing each other? Phone calls and video chat only gets you so far. 

But first, background. 

Ironically, I met this guy about 6 years ago when I was looking for a new apartment to escape my psycho ex who kept puncturing my tires (oh yes, a tire per week). I barely took note of him at the time. He had curly hair, blue eyes, and he was a health law lawyer. I was still a prosecutor back then. He was renting where I live now, and he seemed like a nice guy. We connected on LinkedIn, had a few phone calls during the transition process when I had questions about the community, and that was it. He moved back to Boston after his in-house counsel job here in town laid him off; he started his own practice, and now has clients in 3 states. He's still a small operation, but he is aggressively trying to grow his practice. I admire him for that. I never had the guts to start my own practice, mostly because I suck at rainmaking. I like to practice law; I hate business. 

Back in January (January 20, to be precise), we matched on Bumble. He reminded me of who he was; he looked so different. His curly hair was now gone and he was bald. He was 33 now, had nicer glasses, and he looked like he lost some weight and had toned up. He was visiting with his mom and stepdad. He was only in town for a few more days and asked if I'd like to meet. I said yes, and we met at a World of Beer for a drink on January 24.  

On that date, he told me that he wanted to find someone to have a serious relationship with; he wanted to settle down, and he needed to know if I wanted that or was I just looking to hook up. Everything he was saying was music to my ears. Settling down? Of course. I'm 35 and my eggs aren't getting any younger. Settling down with someone who has their life together? Sign me up. I told him I was, and he said, "I just want to make it clear, I'm not here to waste your time." Wowzers. 

After the date, we shared our first kiss, and in the month after, we shared many phone calls and text messages until his second visit in February. More phone calls and daily text messages. 

Then the coronavirus started growing in the US. At the time, I was going to run the London Marathon on April 26 and I would fly out to London on April 22. To see me before I left, he was going to fly to see me on April 16 and stay for 5 days. Then, the plan was that I would see him in May. Of course, the marathon was postponed and the airfares went dirt cheap in March. While talking on the phone earlier this week to plan for our May visit, I saw how cheap the fares were - $56 round trip. How could I say no? 

Well, the coronavirus is a concern. And yet, I bought the fare and we planned the weekend without thinking. 

And then the paranoia hit me. What if I catch it? And give it to him? And who knows who else? 

And what if I don't? 

And what if all domestic flights are grounded for months and we don't see each other? 

And what if... 

I decided to take the chance. I have as much risk catching it in the airport as I would running around the supermarket looking for some toilet paper. I'll take precautions - and hand sanitizer - and stay away from as many folks as possible. 

I'm excited to see him, and I haven't felt like this in a long time about anybody. My emotions are probably convincing me to do stupid things. 

This pandemic makes me realize, though, that a long-distance relationship is no joke. It takes more time and preparation than a local relationship would and can get disrupted way more easily, but it also makes the time together much more special. 

I hope the virus gets under control soon. 

For now, it's love in the time of coronavirus. 

Out of the Fryer, Into the Frying Pan

The new job hasn't been so hot. Lots to tell (of course there is, when I haven't posted in so long).

I've been bamboozled by my new firm. In front of my innocent nose they dangled the much-coveted "work-life" balance that every lawyer dreams about. There was no time off policy for attorneys, I was told during the hiring process, just make the hours and make sure that time off doesn't conflict with any major trials. Eight months later, I learned that "work-life balance" was just a gimmick. I was lucky enough to get into two marathons this year, Berlin and London. The two trips are 6 months apart. When I told my boss I was taking time off so I could run the London Marathon and later the Berlin Marathon, he flipped out. It was "unheard of" for a first year associate (in the legal world, this means someone who just graduated law school) to take time off, much less a two week vacation. If I took any more time off after London, it amounted to three weeks. It was outrageous in his eyes. I assured him I would do the same I had done in my last firm - keep up with my work and make sure the hours were done. He wasn't convinced.

"I'm going to make this clear to you," he said, gruffly, as he pointed a finger at me. "If you take that time off, you will not get a bonus, and I don't care if you hit your target billable hours. The expectation is for you to be here 24/7. This is your trade off. You are a first year associate." He went on to tell me that the billable hour expectation was much, much higher than I was originally told.

I sat there, stunned. I didn't know what to say. My last firm recognized that I had come in with prior experience.  It all counted, every year in the practice of law counted. Here, I was equated with a first year lawyer instead of a ten year lawyer. Initially, I was devastated, and then, after letting it all roll around in my head, I became enraged.

Seriously, what the hell? On top of it all, one of partners from a different office had committed suicide. Part of it was because of his own mental health battles, but part of it was from the stress of the job. My boss's words came on the heels of the death of this partner. Why was I barred from being able to take time away from the stress of this job? What happened to work-life balance? What happened to the promise of lower billable hour requirements? What happened to the promise of time off as long as the hours were done? I had been bamboozled, and when I realized I had been bamboozled, my loyalty was gone. I was going to find a new job.

I approached our firm administrator.  I didn't tell her about the discussion, but she told me there was no billable hour requirement. I just had to be profitable and she repeated the previous number that had been touted in front of me from day 1 when I applied to this firm. I asked whether time off was taken into account when factoring raises and bonuses. She said she didn't think so, but it was all "discretionary." No transparency.

On top of it, I've come to discover that my boss is also sexist. He makes occasional rips at me for being a woman attorney, saying I should not be so "aggressive" and gets angry with me when I express a disagreement with his views on any legal matter. He is mostly unpleasant; just yesterday, I emailed him about a settlement agreement that another lawyer wanted us to convey to our client. I wasn't working the case, but I always had a good relationship with that lawyer which was why she reached out to me. When I asked him later in the afternoon if he saw my email, he snapped at me, "Yes, I saw your email and I will get to it on my time not yours." Geez. He makes my old boss look like Mother Theresa. Some days he is nice to be around, but most days, I keep my door closed so I can avoid as much contact with him as possible. I figured out the best analogy for my work life: Devil Wears Prada, law firm edition, except my boss is not stylish and he doesn't have any redeeming qualities.

So... I'm back on the job hunt, except now I've decided to get away from law firms altogether. This leaves me with two options: house counsel for a company, or government.  I think I prefer house counsel.

After getting screwed over on my student loans when I wanted to do public service loan forgiveness, I decided that it won't matter if I ever go back to government work. (I was given misinformation when I would call about getting my loans into the forgiveness program, and then I found out that the first 3 years of payments I was making didn't count as qualifying payments for my loan forgiveness because they weren't consolidated in the right program. I recently refinanced my loans anyway, from a whopping 7.1% interest rate down to 3.91%). Thus, higher pay in the private sector looks a lot nicer to me, even though I do enjoy, and probably prefer, government work. I sold my dreams, and now I look at my job as a way to make money so I can have fun, and not as a way for me to live out my passions.

As sad as it might sound, I think following my true passions is just a fairy tale. Now I just look at each individual day and figure out how to stay happy for that day, knowing that I have the promise of tomorrow to try again if today sucks.

New Job.

Surprise! I'm back. I didn't disappear, and no I certainly have not died. 

As usual, my dating life has been a parade of nutjobs. However, my professional life has gotten an incredible boost. 

I ended up leaving my old job at the firm. Let's face it, I was becoming increasingly unhappy. As much as I loved my boss, there were things that were not within his power to fix that weren't getting fixed by the people who could fix it: not getting a raise in 2 years even after being promoted and asked to bill more hours, not getting clear answers on how raises are given, learning that my male counterpart was regularly receiving pay increases, pitiful bonuses even after exceeding my billing quota, and lack of support from home office when our office was suffering from staffing issues. I had spoken up many times, and each time was met with "I need to review this and I'll get back to you." Enough was enough, and I put my feelers out there to see what else there was. 

And there was something else - an opening at another law firm in their construction litigation wing. It was a reputable firm and it gave me the opportunity to specialize and get board-certified. When I interviewed with the partners in the local office, I felt like I bonded with them, although inside my heart was breaking to leave my old boss, who had become like a dad at work to me. I also had just been offered to be made partner at my old firm, but when the promised deadline for the promotion came and went, and there was no response as to why this second pay increase had not yet taken effect, or why the promotion hadn't happened, the final nail in the coffin had been hammered in. I was done. I entered into salary negotiations with the new firm, got a 28% pay increase, and resigned. 

The resignation from my old firm wasn't too bad. I cried when I gave my resignation letter to my boss, explaining that this new job was an opportunity that I needed to explore. The managing partners were supportive; they knew I was going to another good firm (and not a competitor for them). They asked if there was anything they could do to get me to stay. Since I didn't want to stay, I simply thanked them for allowing me to grow. The best part of this resignation was this: if things didn't work out at the new place, and if I wanted to come back, they said I was always welcome back. 

Things at the new firm had been scary. Not only had I launched myself, again, into a new area of law, I was with a whole set of different personalities and professional expectations to meet. Although the billable hour quota (they call it a "goal" but let's be real here, if you don't meet the "goal" you're out of a job) was lower, it was harder to meet, mostly because I had to spend a lot of time self-researching and determining what was what before I could actually do work on a file. The first two months have been a little daunting. The other harsh reality that I find here is there are cases that we take on a contingency, meaning we get a percentage of the final recovery. Although I record my hours on those files, they don't count towards my final quota, but they will count towards my profitability determination at my annual review. It's a different world, but it's doable. 

Around the time that I had left my old firm, my male counterpart had also left. A competitor firm had offered him a pay boost and partnership, but three months later, he went back to the old firm for reasons unknown to me. The old firm brought him back as a partner. Sometimes I think about going back to what was comfortable, but then I remind myself that staying comfortable isn't what has gotten me ahead. 

Which leads me to my next update - I dumped both of the guys from my last post. I had to get rid of David; it was just too much too soon for me. He was sour grapes, as seen below: 

As for Sam, well, Sam turned out to be from Crazytown, USA. While at my old firm, I went in to work on a Sunday afternoon to get ahead for the week. It was a multi-million dollar case, and my head would roll if I screwed it up. I told him I'd be out of touch for a while that day, but he insisted on texting me anyway. When I didn't respond to his texts because I was working, he flipped out, told me "Fuck that" which, in turn received a prompt "Go fuck yourself, I'm working and sometimes my work comes first" from me. That was the end of that. 

I had another disaster date earlier this week with another guy, but I'll save that for another post. 

I'll try to be better about posting, for the few people that enjoy this blog. All I want to do is bring a smile from my corner of the Internet. 

More Than Friends

A lot has happened in the last few months. 

I dated four guys, two of which turned out to be users, and two of which are trying, diligently, to earn my affection. 

I'll tell you about each one. The first one is a fresh transplant, and the other is in the armed forces. The first one I'll call "Sam." 

Sam

Sam moved here recently from North Dakota. I think he's the first person I've ever met from North Dakota. In a former life, he was a hotel manager. At age 34, he decided to switch careers. He came here to dabble in real estate and flipping houses. I'm usually wary of people who are fresh to the area and who flip houses - they typically turn out to be flighty and are known to be party boys. This guy, however, seemed to have a solid five-year-plan, and he focused on me like a laser beam. 

We met on Bumble and eventually moved from the app to texting. Texting after a week turned into a date. I wanted to keep it light and fun, so I suggested a music event that was happening in the downtown area. Live bands would be playing everywhere, making for easy and accessible entertainment. It wasn't anything heavily romantic, and we could walk around and talk. 

I was having a great time with him. In fact, it was such a great time, I thought to myself, Well, he'll make a great friend. I honestly wasn't feeling any chemistry other than man-friend. He seemed pretty at ease, and then the conversation started to take a turn - he would insert things like, "If I get married once, I want it to be forever, like my parents" and things like "I love that you hold the same values as I do." 

Usually, I'd be jumping for joy to hear these things come out of a man's mouth, a man that I was interested in, but I wasn't feeling the spark in those moments. As the night grew later, and my stamina for staying up grew weaker, he walked me to my car. 

Then it happened. 

He gave me a hug as we were saying good night to each other, and right before releasing me from the hug, he held me, and started to lean in towards my face. 

Shit, he's going to kiss me, I thought. Okay, just see how it goes, maybe this is just what you needed, to see if you feel anything. I closed my eyes, and let it happen.  

It was like kissing my brother on the mouth. Bleh. 

He, however, acted like he had just tasted the sweetest nectar in the Garden of Eden. 

"Wow!" he said, looking into my eyes with a soft smile. It was at this point I started to feel awful. I wasn't having those same feelings, as much as I wanted to have them. After a moment, he went in for a second kiss. Again? I thought. Okay, don't be a bitch, maybe you'll feel a spark on the second kiss.

I felt no spark. I only felt a lot of guilt for not feeling the same fireworks that he was feeling. He was so excited. Since that date, it's been waves of daily text messages that culminated into him disclosing his intentions to me - he wanted to start a relationship eventually. I told him I wasn't in any rush and that I just wanted to go slow. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I felt no attraction towards him. I figured I would see how the second date goes, and if I still felt nothing, I'd let him down gently, and hopefully my offer of friendship will be enough. 

Now, let me tell you about the armed forces gentleman. 

David

David is also a Bumble catch. David is mixed race. Although his family is mostly African American, they are mixed with Dutch, explaining the odd last name that he holds. David is 40, tall, fit, and very handsome. His mother lives one town over from me, and he comes to visit her every few months. Although he is stationed outside my state, he has kept in touch with me faithfully since our first meeting in July. I enjoyed his company when we hung out in July, but didn't develop any strong feelings for him. I chalked it up to another friend in the books for me.  

Apparently, over our months of communication, he had developed feelings for me. We had our second date tonight. I wanted to go to another event in town that I thought would be fun, a local art competition that would allow us to walk around and view some interesting pieces. I told him to meet me at a Whole Foods, and then we could take my car and drive out in the same car since parking would be tight. Before we hit the road, he wanted to hug me. I thought it was sweet, and then he asked for my permission to kiss me. 

Kiss me? I thought. I thought we were just going to hang out! I figured, well, why not. Let's see what happens. He was a good kisser, but I didn't feel the fireworks. Maybe it'll develop, I thought to myself. I really wanted to develop feelings. I wanted to feel the spark. If anyone deserved that spark, it was this man. 

As we walked, we exchanged marathon stories. He had run the Marine Corps Marathon, and the week after, I had run the New York City Marathon. It was nice to be able to swap marathon stories with each other and to relate to each other in that way. 

He then began to express to me how much I meant to him. He took my hand into his. I started to feel awful. He told me how beautiful I was and how thankful he was that I was in his life, that I was spending time with him, and how much it meant to him that I was even staying in touch with him. My heart started to melt. I looked into his eyes, and I saw pure honesty and emotion pouring out of them. Then, my heart started to break. 

"You need to know how beautiful you are, and how much you mean to me. I don't take this lightly. You need to know that I don't take this lightly at all. Most women wouldn't keep in touch the way you have." We had been walking, and he stopped walking and faced me. 

"I want to see you more. I really want this to have a real chance. I really believe in us. I'd like you to fly out to visit me." Oh my gosh, I thought. I wasn't ready for any of this. I wasn't expecting any of this. In fact, I hadn't even thought of him as more than a good friend at that point. And then I thought, If I visit him, that means he'll probably want to have sex! Am I ready for that with him? Am I ready for any of this? I was freaking out inside and feeling horrible, because he was such a sweet man, offering me the beginning of what was clearly going to be a great relationship. 

After the art competition, we decided to go get a bite to eat. I suggested a fool-proof cuisine - tacos. During dinner, he told me that he would be able to retire from the armed forces soon and what his plans were afterwards. He asked me about my career plans, and then hypothesized about how our lives could be united in one spot, rather than be lived in two states. I responded with a gentle smile, "We'll see how things go." I didn't know what else to say. I wasn't ready to think that far ahead. This was only the second date, and I didn't think we were at that level to be considering all of this. I went back to our text messages and phone conversations. How could I have missed these signals? Am I that dense? Or am I selfish? I felt like I was a terrible person. 

I agreed to fly out to see him, depending on my work calendar. Unfortunately, my case load at the firm has now almost doubled. I'm no longer working to keep up my billable hours quota. Now, I'm working to make sure my cases don't fall behind. We've been receiving cases at the rate of a tsunami. It's left me very little personal time for myself other than time to eat, sleep, and spend an hour going for a run or performing a work-out at the gym. 

During dinner, he took my hands into his. "I need to tell you something, though." He went on to explain to me that another deployment was on the horizon. He asked me how I felt about it. 

"I mean, it is what it is. There's nothing for me to say about it. Will you be safe?" I certainly wasn't going to abandon him. Then his tone became very serious. 

"Well, anything can happen, and most likely, I'll be going into a war zone." Afghanistan. I started to panic inside, but, like a true trial lawyer, I reeled it in. 

"I need you to know how much you mean to me. I really want you to understand that. You mean so much to me, and I am so thankful to be in your presence and to spend this time with you. To be able to kiss someone, and to hold someone's hand, and to feel that warmth is something that is so special to me, and you are special to me. I'm telling you this because if something happens to me, I want you to know how much you meant to me. It's really important to me that you know this."

I felt tears coming to my eyes. I felt even worse, and then I felt my heart split into two pieces. I couldn't tell him that I didn't reciprocate those feelings. I wasn't at that level, but the thought of any harm happening to him, or worse, dying, was horrific to me. I fought back the tears. I wanted to keep my composure because I didn't want to upset him. I started to beat myself up internally, Why can't you let yourself feel something for him?  

I dropped him back off at his car, but not before we shared a long hug and a gentle good-night kiss. Although I started to feel some attraction, when I looked in his eyes, I didn't know if I was trying to force myself to feel something, or if I really was starting to feel something. All I knew was that if anyone deserved to be with me, it was this man. 

To console myself, I vowed to give him a real chance. To see where it goes, but to make sure he doesn't accelerate anything. The problem is I don't know what my feelings are, and as much as I want to feel that fiery attraction, it isn't hitting me just yet. 

As awful as this sounds, I feel both men should get a fair chance, although I'm thinking that more likely than not, nothing will happen with either one. If I had to choose one, I'd choose David, but the problem is, can I really choose either one of them if I'm not feeling anything yet? Am I just a bad person? Have I become callous? 

Or do I need more time to develop a connection? 

Either way, I need to figure things out quickly, because the last thing I ever want to do is hurt someone as much as I've been hurt. The pain of a broken heart is a pain that I hope I never inflict on someone else. I would rather suffer than be responsible for another's pain. 

photo credit: Jason Mraz, album art "Know" 

Bullies

After the Parkland shooting, there has been a lot of talk about bullying and mental illness in schools. I never suffered from a mental illness, but I did suffer from bullying as a kid. 

Let me take you back to the year 1989. I was in kindergarten. I remember the first day of school. I was a little sprocket, holding my red backpack while my mom walked me to the bus stop. I was dressed in one of my best dresses. My mom always sent me to school in a beautiful dress, and I always had a bow or a flower in my curly, dark brown hair. 

The night before, my mom read me the story of the Bernstein Bears and their first day of kindergarten. I was looking forward to meeting my teacher and starting school. I asked my mom to pack me a peanut butter sandwich like in the book. I thought my first day would be just like in the book.

I stepped up on the bus and turned back to look at my mom. She stood there smiling at me and told me to have a great day. She blew me a kiss. As I made my way through the packed bus, I saw that there was a pair of girls with an empty seat behind them. I sat down in the seat and looked out the window. There was my mom, still smiling. I started to feel sad because I was leaving my mom behind for a whole day. My mom saw me start to frown, and she motioned for me to smile. She blew me  more kisses, and I blew her kisses back. She made the sign of the cross and I crossed myself. Then, the bus started to pull off. I was on my way to school. 

I watched my neighborhood turn into a motion picture of flowing scenery, streets melting from one into the other. I wondered what my classmates would be like. I wondered what school would be like. My thoughts were interrupted by a "HEY YOU!" 

I looked up to see both of the girls in the seat in front of me leaning over me. I didn't say anything. 

"Who are you?" I replied with my full name. I started to feel scared. Why were these girls being so aggressive? I had just gotten there. 

"You know you can't sit there, right?" 

"Um, no." I didn't know what to say. I didn't realize that there were rules to the bus. They didn't talk about that in the Bernstein Bears book. 

The girls started to laugh. "You can only sit where we tell you to sit!" 

"Okay." What else was I going to do? I didn't want to make trouble with people I didn't know. I was 4 at the time, about to turn 5. 

The school day itself was magnificent. Kindergarten was a blast, and I loved my teacher. I got into the habit of bringing her a rose from my family's garden while our rose bush was in bloom. Every day started with a hug. It was wonderful. 

The bus ride home, however, was another story. Those two girls were waiting for me, and they made every ride home unbearable. They would laugh at my clothes, at my hair, and any little thing I did. Not long after that first day of school, I started to cry to my mother. 

"What's wrong?" she asked me. You need to understand this about my mother's voice - it's one of the sweetest sounds you will ever hear. She also has an adorable Spanish accent. 

I looked up at my mom and started to cry. I told her about the two girls on the bus. My mom told me to fire back at them. 

"Those girls aren't better than you! Stand up to them! Tell them that their words mean nothing! Be proud of who you are!" 

And I did exactly that. The next day, when they started to laugh at me, I started laughing at them back. They thought I lost my mind and asked me what was so funny. 

"You are!" 

They paused for a moment and looked at me. Then they started laughing at me again. 

"She's crazy! Stupid girl! Stupid girl!" 

I got upset. My mom's trick backfired. My face got hot and I started to fight back the tears. As we pulled up to my bus stop, I looked anxiously for my mom. I went straight to her and I started to cry. I told her that the master plan had failed. 

My mom got angry. "This is enough! Tomorrow, I want you to show me who these girls are!" 

And I did. The next morning, my mom came with me to the bus stop. She got on the bus with me and I pointed out the two girls to her. My mom demanded their names. Wide-eyed, the two girls told my mom their names. 

"I am going to find your parents and tell them about your behavior! You do not treat people this way! Do you understand me? You do not act this way!" 

After that day, the girls left me alone, but I encountered other bullies in school. 

Kindergarten and first grade went smoothly without incident. I had a friend, Danielle. We spent so much time at each other's houses. She was a Jewish little girl and she was one of my first best friends. Around first grade was when I learned that I was Palestinian. We would see the news and we wouldn't understand why people couldn't be friends like us. 

After first grade, Danielle was moved to another class. It was a living hell without her, and by fifth grade she had left the school. Fifth grade started to get better but not by much. 

In second grade, there was a boy that, for some reason, really hated me. I always tried to be nice, but he and his friends used to make fun of me. I thought by being nice, they would stop being cruel. I was starting to get a little chubby, so my weight was a prime topic for ridicule. My hair always used to be pulled back in a half ponytail. 

One day, I was late to school. I went rushing to my classroom, and I saw the boy in the hall. He was heading towards our classroom and was quite a distance ahead of me. I don't know why, but I greeted him. "Hi, Colin!"

He turned around in a rage. I never knew little boys could become so vicious. He started to run towards me. "I've had enough of you!" 

I froze. Enough of me? I just got here.

He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me into the wall. I started to cry. He then grabbed my hair and pulled really hard. I started to shout. "Please help me! Someone please help me!" He took my head and slammed it into the wall a few times. It hurt so much. After what seemed like an eternity, a teacher popped her head into the hallway and saw the two of us. 

She rushed towards us and ordered him to get away from me. Another teacher came, pulled him off me, and ordered him to go to principal's office. They felt the back of my head. It had big knots. After some time icing my head in the nurse's office, I went back to my classroom. Some of the kids that were friends with the boy asked me why I got him into trouble. They told me I should've just kept quiet. The rest of the school year I was an outcast. I remember one day, one of the kids told me that nobody in the school liked me. I snapped at her. "That's not true. I have a lot of friends. You're all just not one of them!"

And it was true. I had friends outside school. I was friends with the kids of family friends, but my best friends outside school were the neighbor kids. To summon each other after homework was finished, we would stand outside in each other's yards and shout each other's names. "HEY KELLY, YOU WANT TO COME OUT AND PLAY?" Eventually, we started to use telephones instead of the intense volume of our voices. 

And when we would come out of the house, it was a celebration. We were anything we wanted to be. I was a warrior princess. I was an ecomancer. I was a Native American princess. I was a sorceress. I could fly. Hide and seek. Dragons. Unicorns. Pegasus. Magical creatures were everywhere. Plants were mystical and had special powers. 

We would set off to explore the neighborhood on our bikes, except our bikes were magic carpets or horses. In the summer, we were mermaids and we'd swim until our skin became so wrinkled that it looked like we had aged sixty years. My favorite memory is running so fast through the unfenced backyards of the neighborhood that it felt like I was unstoppable. Those were some of my happiest memories.  

Third and fourth grades I was still basically an outcast. Bringing Arabic food to lunch didn't help either; they thought it was alien food. Imagine bringing stuffed grape leaves to school where the standard fare was a hotdog. "What is that?" the kids would say. And then I would explain the name in Arabic because I didn't know what the names were in English. This further added to my weirdness. "How do you eat that? That's so weird! You are so weird! Look at what she has! Freak!" 

Danielle was in my class again mid-year in third grade, but it didn't help much. I was always the kid that got picked last. Nobody wanted me at their lunch table, but everyone wanted me to sit next to them for tests because I was always in honor roll. 

I might have been chubby, but I was damn smart, and I knew it and they knew it. Eventually, I started to use my smarts to my advantage. I would bribe kids to be nice to me, but it didn't always work. I remember one time during class, a kid shouted at me that I was a fat pig. I remember how my eyes welled up. Danielle was sitting next to me. 

"Hey, don't listen to him. Do you know what you are?" 

"What?" 

"Unique. You are unique." I still remember her smile in that moment. 

I pondered the word the rest of class. Later that day, I turned it into a bookmark. Danielle left our school after fourth grade. I didn't know what I would do without her. 

Luckily, I made a friend in fifth grade. I was still heavy and I still wanted to be accepted by the kids. I tried to act tough, but it still hurt every time I was picked last or every time someone said something mean. My friend at the time, Michelle, would ward off some of the kids, but it was never enough. The worst was when we were at physical education (PE) doing scooter races. Every kid that raced got loud cheers. When it was my turn, everyone was silent as I clumsily made my way on the scooter. I remember the teached clapping for me, telling me what a good job I did. It didn't help. I felt humiliated. 

I remember one day, at PE, I pissed off one of the boys. He started to advance towards me. Recalling how Colin slammed my head into the wall, I decided to avoid the confrontation and started to run. 

"GET BACK HERE NOW!" he shouted at me. 

"NO!" I yelled back. 

I started to run as fast as I could towards the soccer fields where there were games actively happening. I knew I couldn't run too far into the games, but I couldn't face this boy either and risk getting beat up. I did the only thing I could. I stopped running immediately and I ducked down into a ball. The boy fell over me. I started running back towards the teacher station. I figured if I got near the teacher, he couldn't do anything to me. 

I looked over my shoulder, and there he was, still in hot pursuit. Eventually, I got to the teacher, out of breath. The teacher asked me how I was doing. 

"Oh, me? I'm great. Great." 

The boy stopped chasing me once he saw that I was next to the teacher. He left me alone the rest of that class. 

I remember my main goal for middle school was to avoid being picked on again. I wanted to go to a whole new school, where nobody knew me and I could reinvent myself. I did reinvent myself, but middle school had its own set of misery. High school was mostly fine until 9-11, and I faced some hatred in college and even in law school. As I got older, I would want to kill myself. I've had many dark nights. Instead of committing suicide, I would cry and pray, and I would think of how my mom and dad would react if they found me dead. I couldn't do that to them. I didn't live for myself, but for my family. 

As I look back on my experiences, I realize that I never had the urge to pick up a gun or a knife and hurt the people that were hurting me. Instead, I wanted to get away from them or show them that I was better than they were. I made it my life's mission to outdo all of them... and I think it's safe to say that I did. 

I didn't let them get the best of me or turn me into something ugly, and that's how I won the war. 

photo credit: https://wallethub.com/edu/best-worst-states-at-controlling-bullying/9920/