Growing up, I was often told that I would have to kiss a lot of frogs before I'd find my prince. No one ever says how many "frogs" or just how long it will take to kiss them all before finding the prince. From my experiences, I've found most guys have qualities from both sides. What I mean is, males are, to some degree, both "froggy" and princely. It seems to be the varying degree of the traits that sets them apart making them more of a prince or frog.
Why do we come up with an idea of the perfect man? How do we do it? What are our criteria for deciding what is perfect? We have everything mapped out from hair and eye color to the type of job he will have and things he will enjoy. Of course it's good to have standards and to know how you want to be treated by a man. But often, I think we, as women, get caught up in these ideals, these unrealistic expectations.
When I was in my mid-twenties and desperately searching for my "prince," (oh how times change) I came up with a long list of attributes I wanted him to have. I read books about how to attract the right man and books about how to keep him after he's been caught. While I think the authors mean well and some even have some good ideas, I also think they often mislead women. They lead us to believe that either we're doing something wrong or there is something wrong with us. Of course, when we can't seem to find someone or keep them interested when we do, we start to wonder, "What's wrong with me?!?!?!"
Don't get me wrong. Some women are absolute messes and have more baggage than a full Boeing 777. But for the most part, I think women would be ok if we just realized we're who we are and that we'll find someone when we do. There isn't any real hurry, except to fulfill personal expectations.
Personally, I expected to be married by age twenty-five and to be finished birthing my two or three children by age thirty. Two of my children would be twins - identical twins, boys. I expected my husband to be a college graduate with an awesome job that paid at least $100,000 a year. We would live in a nice home with all the latest electronics. We'd entertain our friends, and our children would go to the best schools. I dream big!
During my first stint in college, I attended a "Christian" liberal-arts university. It was during the time when the internet was really taking off (1994 or so). My friends and I were fascinated with all the things you could do with a computer to communicate with others or even to find information. (Believe me, I know it pales in comparison to what is available these days.) I'm naturally outgoing and love to meet new people. I knew most of the people on campus. If we weren't friends, I at least knew their name and would speak to them. Naturally, when I discovered I could "meet" new people via the internet I was excited, and soon my closest friends caught the bug, though not as much as I did.
My best friend and I would chat to guys online at other colleges in the state. We'd get to know them a little, and they would either come hang out with us or we'd go hang out with them. It was a whole new way to socialize! Sometimes we got boyfriends out of it, and sometimes we didn't. Eventually, she met her husband online, but quite by accident - much like how my boyfriend and I got together. (To be honest, this probably isn't the safest thing to do these days, but back then it was relatively harmless. Any reader who chooses to do this takes full responsibility for his or her own actions.) But I digress.
It was during this time in my life I met Michael. Charming. Smart. Funny. From a "good family". Straight A university student. Going somewhere. He was by all accounts a prince, and he adored me. He would have given me the world on a silver platter if I asked him. He was lovely to me all the time. But I broke up with him.
For a long time I regretted that. I was his first girlfriend. He was nineteen and I was twenty. He had gotten on bended knee and asked me to marry him; I had excepted, even tough there was no ring. Yes, he was indeed a prince. But something was ... missing.
I couldn't quite put my finger on it at the time, but there was definitely something missing. Thinking back, it seems his lack of experience with relationships was the lacking factor, coupled with the fact that he didn't have a drop of common sense. He didn't really know what to do in a relationship, how to be. He was hen-pecked by his mother, who was a perfectionist. She didn't approve of our relationship because I came from a "blue-collar" family. Even though my dad made just as much money at his job as his dad did, I wasn't good enough. They were going to take his car from him so he couldn't drive to visit me. That wasn't a good idea, so they decided they would take his credit card away so he couldn't buy gas to visit.
It was all too complicated and dramatic. I just wanted someone to love me and to be happy. It wasn't happening. I could blame his mother all if I wanted. But the truth is he wasn't my prince. I've lost track of Michael, but I hope he has found someone and is happy.
I think most of us have to go through different relationships to find the one who best fits us, the one we can actually live with. It seems to be a sort of trial and error thing. Breaking up is never fun or easy, even when the guy is a complete jerk and someone we'll never miss. But that isn't the hardest part. The hardest part is knowing that someone who is so fabulous isn't for us. It's what might have been, couldn't be. And as it turns out he wasn't a frog after all. He was a prince all the time, just not yours.
I've been thinking about death today and how mysterious it is. You never know when it will be your turn to die or how you will die. Even if you choose to end your life, you're not guaranteed success. Certainly, most of those who attempt suicide are successful, but it isn't a guarantee. In fact, there are only two guarantees in life: You will have life and that life will, at some point end.
I lost my dad about a month ago, after a long battle with cancer. I never imagined I would lose a parent in my early thirties. If someone told me that would happen, I would have guessed it would be my mother because she has had varying health problems recently, the worst of which is an autoimmune disease. My dad, on the other hand, was always well. I don't remember him ever having a cold or even vomiting.
In his younger days, he was both a heavy drinker and heavy smoker. He smoked three or four packs of cigarettes per day and went to the bar after work every day, most of those days he was drunk. He quit smoking in 1989 or 1990, but he continued drinking.
The first diagnosis came in June 2004. For a couple of months he had been complaining of discomfort in his throat, as though something was stuck in there. Immediately, my mind flashed to his friend who had lost his battle with cancer only a few years prior. James' cancer started in much the same way. I urged my dad for days to go to the doctor. Finally, he went, but was given medication. This went on for another month before being referred to an ear, nose and throat specialist (ENT).
The first thing the ENT wanted to do is set up a scope of my dad's throat area to have a look at his vocal chords. There was nothing wrong with them, though a small tissue sample was taken an tested. There was a small spot, or lesion, on the base of his tongue. This was also taken for analysis. The tissue from his vocal chords was normal; however, the spot at the base of his tongue turned out to be cancer.
What a blow! I hadn't been close with my dad for most of my life, which was due mostly to his lifestyle of drinking and partying -- doing what he wanted and not wanting to be bothered with being a parent. In 2000, our relationship began to change, and we started talking, getting to know each other again and ultimately got closer.
Though I knew in my heart my dad had cancer, I wasn't fully prepared for that initial diagnosis. (Is anyone?) It felt like we had only had a relationship for a few short years and I couldn't bear losing my dad. I cried out to God and begged him not to take my dad. Alone in my apartment, I sat at my desk and sobbed, "Please don't take my dad, God. Please. I only just got a relationship with him. Please don't take him away from me."
A few weeks after the being diagnosed, my dad started radiation treatments. He took approximately forty in all. I accompanied him to many of the appointments he had with his oncologist. When the doctor was asked what causes the sort of cancer my dad had, he said that alcohol and smoking are the main causes. Smoking was obvious, but it never occurred to me that alcohol is be a carcinogen.
After he completed his radiation treatments, my dad was given a clean bill of health, but was told that he wouldn't be considered cured or totally cancer free for five years. There were follow up appointments each month, but eventually the appointments became less frequent. There were also tests run every so often to make sure there was no recurrence of the cancer. He had blood drawn often and CT scans done of his head and neck area.
Nearly two years had past when he began having problems in his throat again. Half of one tonsil was removed, then the rest of it. A single cancer cell was found, but nothing else. Then a lesion appeared on the back of his tongue near his throat. It grew quickly. The top portion (above his tongue) was removed in mid January 2007 and sent for stat analysis. It was cancer.
The only option for him this time was surgery, but it was to be a very long, involved and delicate surgery. They would have to slice him from the middle of his lower lip, down his chin, back to his neck, around and up behind his ear. Then they would break his jaw so they could get to his throat and back to his tongue to take out the cancer. Removing the cancer would require removing his tongue or at least a portion of it. The tongue would then be re-formed using muscle tissue and blood vessels from the inside of his forearm. He would be given a tracheotomy, which would only be temporary until he went home from the hospital. He would also be given a feeding tube because (for obvious reasons) he wouldn't be able to get any nourishment.
My dad had such a strong will to live. After consulting with his oncologist about any other available options, he agreed to the surgery, which took place in mid February 2007.
The surgery lasted about 9 hours. Afterward, the doctor said it had been a successful surgery and that the tumor was about the size of a golf ball. My dad wold have to stay in the hospital for approximately two weeks before he could go home, depending on how quickly he was recovering. He did superbly! His recovery progressed well, and he went home as scheduled. He was learning to swallow again, and his speech was becoming clearer and clearer. But the joy would be short-lived.
In May, he started feeling like he couldn't breathe, like was smothering. Tests revealed a mass at the base of his tongue. Further tests confirmed: It was cancer again. Treatment option: Chemotherapy.
I don't honestly know how many blows like this one person can take, but I'm not sure I'm strong enough to handle it. But my dad did it with great dignity, grace and courage.
He started chemo in June and was also part of a double blind study that may or may not have included an additional drug. After a couple of months he started going down hill fast. He nearly died in September before they changed the treatment. He did better with it and regained much of his strength, as well as some of the weight he lost. But the cancer didn't respond. In fact, it grew slightly. So he was placed on yet a different medication. This one made him very ill, but the cancer did shrink, at least initially. Finally, he was placed on a fourth chemotherapy treatment, which seemed to be really working. The tumor was shrinking and becoming "loose," which the doctor said meant it was dying.
Our hopes were dashed in March of this year when, after days of dealing with excruciating stomach pains, my dad went to the emergency room. (He hated to go to the hospital if he could avoid it.) While there, he had an ultrasound of his abdomen to see if something was wrong with his feeding tube. That wasn't the problem. Spots were found on his liver. The cancer had spread. The doctor assured him and us that, while there is no cure for liver cancer, my dad could take chemotherapy to control the growth of the tumors and possibly live a good while longer. Though he had great will and determination to live, my dad said he would have to think about it. He stayed a few days in the hospital that time. After only being home a few days, he was readmitted to the hospital for about 10 days. It was during this time that another scan was done on my dad's abdomen to check his liver. It was much worse, so much so the offer of treatment was rescinded. He was, instead, told he had anywhere from seven days to three months to live and was offered hospice care.
He lived 26 days.
I miss him so much. Since he is gone, I notice things about myself that echo him. I enjoy cooking, having people over for a meal, trying new things, going places, going shopping, and finding good deals. He had a nose for bargains.
There was a period in my life, a long period, when I honestly felt like hated my dad and thought we would never, ever have an semblance of a relationship. I remember praying on many occasions, for many years, for God to mend my relationship.
One Sunday morning at church in 2000, I literally heard God speak to me. It was during the altar call. People were giving their lives to Christ, recommitting themselves or for some other reason they were at the altar. I was in sitting in the pew praying for my relationship with my dad, that it would be healed and that we could be close. I won't ever for get His words: I long to make you whole. It sent chills over my body. I looked around myself sort of puzzled, then, like a flood, I began to sob. I wanted to be whole. Being made whole required a relationship with my dad.
After this encounter with God, our relationship began to grow, and I began to mature in areas where my growth had been stunted because he was never around. (My parents are divorced, and by my recollection they were never married. I never remember him living in the same home as me.)
I'm thankful for the time I was given with my dad, to have a relationship with him, to have known him. I'm glad that he matured and became a father to his adult children. I know I needed it.
No matter what happens, I will never forget you, Daddy, or the things you taught me. Though you only knew Jesus for about a year before you died, I'm more thankful that He could say he knew you. You lived bravely through your battle and your fought a good fight. Now you're at peace and suffer no more. May you rest in peace. I know we will see each other again one day.
One of my favorite blogs is titled Nitty Gritty. It's done by a very creative woman in Michigan, USA. She has lots of little children and still has time for blogging and scrapping. I haven't had a lot of time to read her posts recently, but I had just a quick look over her blog yesterday when I decided to create my own. She is pregnant again! This is one strong woman! She really inspires me!
I really enjoy reading her entries. She's always honest and doesn't seem to care what others think of her or what she's up to. She just puts it out there and leaves it to the readers to take what they like and leave the rest. Her story about losing her daughter Teagan in a tragic accident is an amazing one of hope and forgiveness. So many people would be wrought with bitterness and unforgiveness that would eat them up inside. But she and her husband have moved forward with their lives while fully remembering their little girl and celebrating all she brought to their lives.
My blog looks quite a lot like hers. My favorite of the available layouts is the same as the one she chose. She has this cool music player on hers as well. I think I will get one of my own, but the music will be different. I like more secular music than she seems to. I do enjoy her selections. I love her creativity and that she isn't afraid of using color!! Blog on Nitty.Gritty.!!!
It probably comes as no surprise that I'm struggling with a bit of insomnia tonight. If you look at the timestamp of this post, it is quite late (or early depending how you look at things). Tonight, my mind won't be quiet; my thoughts won't rest. I keep thinking about the future what that includes, my dad and how I'm ever going to get up in the morning.
When I turned the lights out, I didn't really feel tired yet. That was probably my first mistake. As I lay there trying to get comfortable, my mind drifted to my boyfriend and what the future might hold for us. We have been together for quite a while now, and things are starting to move toward a merger of our lives. We've been talking about moving in together after I finish school.
To be honest (and fair), I love talking about the future and all its endless possibilities, but the thought that some of those possibilities turning into realities often frightens me. Often, it is those things I want the most that give me the most fright. Case in point: My future with my man. He's a good man -- funny, hard working, handsome, playful, interesting, smart, etc. Being together "permanently" is a bit tricky. He lives in Europe.
People reading this are probably very intrigued as to how we met and are likely being very presumptuous, assuming we met online. All of you with such thoughts are right. We did meet online, but it wasn't on a dating site or in a chatroom. We met on a gaming site.We got to know each other as friends and played games together. After well over a year of this we met in person and really hit it off. So we decided to continue this long distance relationship on a slightly higher level.
Since our initial meeting online, we have met in person and gone to a few vacation spots. We've seen where each other grew up and also met family members. My family adores him and vice versa.
The major problem is immigration. Regulations are very strict unless the person applying for entrance to the US or UK is from a country that doesn't have as many immigrants in that country. There are other allowances: highly skilled workers, which requires a lot of education; engaged partner, which doesn't allow for the non-citizen to work; married partner, which does allow the non-citizen to work. Extreme wealth would help, but that isn't my situation. Our best options are for me to get a job over there after completing my education or getting married. I prefer finding a job first.
Marriage is scary. It's a major step in life. I want to do it someday -- hopefully soon. My biggest hangup is choosing the wrong person. I don't think he's the wrong person, but I'm not over 95% certain he's the right person for me. I'm teetering around 85-90%. So many people in my family are divorced. I have friends who married "the love of their lives" only to have everything fall apart after a few years, or in a couple of cases, over a decade of marriage. I don't want to be like that. Divorce can't be an option for me. We agree on this. When we get married it's truly going to be for better or worse in every area.
How do you know? How does anyone know they have chosen the right person? I have had conversations with couples who have been married forty, fifty, even sixty-plus years. Their stories are all different. The only thing I can see that they all have in common is a solid commitment to the relationship and loving each other. How do you know the person you're entering into such a covenant with is solidly committed? I would like to hear from any readers on this one.
If nothing else, my ramblings here have helped make me sleepy. I shall try my luck at sleep again.
So I've decided to make a blog about my thoughts. I'm sure that's nothing new, amusing or even spectacular. It is, however, a means of release for me. I hope to place my thoughts here about the world around me, what I see, what I perceive, etc. I will write about shows I watch on TV, games I play, music I hear, vacations I take -- my life as a whole. So without further ramblings, I am going to make my first "real" post.
