to everyone except the people i like….an open letter.

I am not nearly as fucking retarded as you think.  I am a smart girl but you are putting way too much pressure on me.  I can’t do this much.  I can’t think about this much.  There aren’t enough hours in the day for me to muster up enough “give-a-fuck” to get this all done.

I am smart, gifted even…creative and valuable, but you are absolutely wasting it on minutia, redundancy and general bullshit.  I am a fine driver and am more self-less than you could ever imagine being.  I am burnt-out, miserable and find no passion or drive in my life to achieve anything more than this.  The more demands you give me, the less drive I feel to complete them.  I am never going to call enough, email enough, or pay close enough attention.  I am never going to work that many hours or care enough.  There will always be more important things in life to me than your money and your feelings so long as my money and my feelings exist.  If you are this self-important, I have every right under the power of God on this green Earth to tell you to screw yourself and make myself important for once.

xoxo,

me

clif notes for men. volume one.

Men. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them. I have had a real onslaught of emails and calls from girlfriends who are having more and more difficulties with their significant others so I thought I’d jot down a few tips for the average man to use as a Clif notes guide on how to not fuck up. I went with five this time around though you ladies know, this list could go to Beijing and back….just like a list like this could go out to us girls. We ain’t too proud. But I’m a girl and this is my blog so suck it if you don’t like it.

Print these out if necessary and hand them to your man, ladies. Men, do you part and be proactive here; take these to heart.

1) Don’t have double standards. If you can joke about certain topics, so can your woman. If you like her big ol’ bootie, she can poke at your sweet, soft belly. If you joke about being the perpetual bachelor and getting the milk for free, don’t be angry when she pretends to hold her breath for a ring when you walk by her favorite jewelry store. Don’t blow money on video games and shots and cuss her out when she sends a pretty penny on a pair of (too expensive) shoes. Everyone sucks at life, or working out, or being un-insane sometimes. Cut each other a break.

2) Don’t set precedents you will never maintain. Don’t set up elaborate surprises and sweet gestures at the beginning of your relationship if you are never going to do them after the 3 month threshold of romantic notions. Don’t take out the garbage before it gets full for a month then get lazy and leave it to start your very own landfill in the corner of the kitchen. And perhaps the most important precedent to maintain…

3) If you can’t be faithful, don’t pretend you’re capable at the beginning. Monogamy can be difficult for some, and that’s fine; we can respect that. And I understand if you come into the relationship with faithfulness and best intention in mind. But if you lose your shit and can’t keep it in your hot little pants, don’t fucking date us. If you know it is our intention to be monogamous and to love you and only you and you violate that trust, I hope you enjoyed your (nasty, slutty, infested) penis while it lasted.

4) Do some things you aren’t that fond of for your lady. Slow dance with her. Give her compliments when she fishes for them. Buy the tampons on your way home from work and mind her purse when she dances at the club. If she doesn’t already treat you right, you will be paid back hundred fold with steaks and BJs. Believe me.

5) About Compliments: Don’t piggyback. Coming up with an original compliment when she comes down the stairs looking good or when she chooses and outfit that compliments here breasties/hynie/feature of your choosing, tell her so. Its not as special if you say something right after we compliment you. “I like that shirt on you, baby,” followed by an, “I like your shirt too,” is seriously, epically lame. Effort is the name of the game, fools. Piggybacking is the MO of flattery scrubs. Be creative. There is something unique and original about your lady; that’s why you’re with her. Bring it up to remind her that she is special and she deserves more than a pathetic coattail compliment.

That’s all my pretty little fingers can type right now. I am meeting a girlfriend for lunch, to, surprise, probably bitch about guys and life and work some more. Stay tuned. I intend on posting more this afternoon.

the big day.

Tomorrow is the big day for Sue and Mike and the day I promised the SM that I wouldn’t have a nervous biological clock breakdown because other people are professing the undying love and devotion to each other, while we are NOT.  I need to have a pep talk with myself to make sure I keep my word to my old man.

I am going to look fabulous.  I have a hot dress, new shoes and the flyest mani and pedi that anyone could get from a huge room full of Asians.

I am going to see a plethora of people that I should have always kept in contact with better.

I am going to get a hug from Greg Amato.

We are going to see the fabulous Grays.

The weather looks like it’s going to be great.

I’m not going stag to the wedding.

The boyfriend is going to look gorgeous.

Hmm…That’s good for now. I’ll report back when I can.  I’m about to leave work now, pack and start the hike to Northeast Ohio.  Congratulations again to the lucky couple.  I can’t wait to go home.

something old, something new, something borrowed, ashleigh’s blue

I promised the SM last night over a plate of manicotti that I would not have a nervous breakdown of biological clock proportions this weekend, given the fact we are going to a wedding. But that just means I have to get out all frustrations and thoughts out beforehand here.

Again, I couldn’t be happier for Sue and Mike, my dear friends for a long, long time now. And I am so excited about seeing everyone there who I haven’t seen in years, or even since we graduated high school. But where is my wedding? I have put in some serious time with some significant others, never to have that blessed day when he goes down on one knee and asks me to be his forever.

Why is it that women feel so pressured to link up and stick with someone through better and worse? Why do we plan the flowers and dress and church as little girls only to have to rearrange our plans when we grow up? Why does everyone I know in the whole universe need to be getting engaged and married every other weekend this year? I haven’t really hit the wall regarding this yet, until this summer. I’ve said it before, but I officially know something like 11 couples who are engaged for their future wedding or got/are getting married this summer. That’s TWENTY-TWO people…and I don’t know all that many people!

The reason we even got on this subject was because the SM mentioned that he would love to plan a trip to Puerto Rico to surf at some point in the winter. I made a frowny face. I tried to brush it off because I knew that it would end ugly, but he persisted. I told him that I could think of something else I’d like to spend a few thousand on. I’d like to go to Puerto Rico too…but how about for our honeymoon?

I try. I really do. I try to stay calm and patient because he always talks about our plans and futures and we’re definitely both present. I know that guys have their timelines and they aren’t always ours, but I am tired of having my little hopes and dreams determined by other people; in every facet of my life. I have more people to answer to than I care about answering to. I guess that’s everyone’s story though. I just figure in this one arena, I might have a little bit of a say.

I just want to know, forever, that I have someone who will be there with me through everything. I want to know that the time and money and tears and everything I have spent aren’t for naught. I want to walk down that aisle and be secure in my future. I know that marriage isn’t the most stable convention and I know that marriage doesn’t mean that someone WILL be there for everything because you will disagree at times. But I have gotten out of relationships after 3 or 4 years more than once…and if feels like I am doomed to serve a life sentence of serial monogamy.

It’s just frustrating. From day one, hour one, literally, the SM talked about our wedding day; where it could be, how it could happen, who we’d invite. We both know this is it for us; there isn’t anyone with whom we’d rather be. But when will that day happen? 487 days so far…and ticking. Hopefully this is enough catharsis for now.

Just remembered: The SM was like…if I get you a ring, YOU are happy for a few hours, telling friends and family. If we go to Puerto Rico, both of us will be happy for a whole WEEK. Hahaha. Asshole. I told him if he gets me a ring, we don’t have to have this fucking conversation anymore and he quickly saw my point.  PWNED.

wednesday quick hits.

If Corey Feldman wasn’t the biggest douche on earth before now, he’s solidified his title.

The AL won the All Star Game!  Cliff Lee looked great and I got my fill of my old-man crush, George Brett.

Studies show that the couple who plays together stays together.  It’s an important investment to go out and do fun things together that you can bot enjoy, to spend a little of your money on leisure.  The correlation is great, scientists are saying.  Well, no shit.  Why can’t my tax money go to other things?  Dues “fun” include porn?

The Pop Sugar Pop 100.  The most talked about, fussed about, gossiped about pop icons of the year.  #98 - Robert Downey Jr - My iron man.  #78 -Carrie Underwood.  #4?  Johnny Depp.  Find out the rest after the jump.

9 years ago today, in 1999, JFK Jr. and his wife, Carolyn Bessette…as well has her sister Lauren, crashed their plane off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard and perished.  In 1969, the Apollo 11 took off and in 4 days would become the first manned mission to land on the moon.

…And perhaps most importantly - a HAPPY birthday to Michael Flatley of Riverdance fame!

i’m good.

There are few things less frustrating than when you contact your significant other or other male counterpart with a question and they answer in vague, one-word answers. I try to shoot an email to him once a day, around lunch time to see how his day is going and let him know I’m thinking about him. It’s a simple, 10 second gesture, but to me it’s a nice touch point in an inbox of poops and more poops.

Today, I asked him how his day was. The emailed response (about 30 minutes later, mind you, as if he was considering the multitude of options with which to answer) was “Good.” That was it! One lousy word! Like that is the only adjective that he could come up with. I don’t get it. Every day I have lived in my almost 28 years has been “good”. Even days of going to funerals or getting let go from poorly-managed companies were still “good” because the service did their life justice or I was tipped off to my severance package. My definition of “good” is something that could always be worse, but could be better. If it was EXCELLENT or TERRIBLE, we’d use those words. If we wanted to automate and give no details about anything, we’d use “good.” He used “good.”

GREAT. *sigh*

Is there not one detail that you can share about your day? Compliment or complaint? “I’m fine, but traffic was a bitch.” “Not bad. We got a shipment of the new Blackberries in so were putting those in inventory.” “I’m fantastic! I just got a blow job from a meth head in the bus station!” Shit – share SOMETHING, for Christ’s sake.

I expressed my mounting frustration to my coworker and confidant, Patrick. I told him what a frustrating thing it was to hear that their days were just “good.” I explained that I know women probably talk too much with more detail than in necessary, but really – one word? I asked him to keep that in mind when talking to his wife about his day. About an hour later, Patrick IMed me with this conversation:

Patrick: My wife phoned and said “How’s your day”

Ashleigh: hahaha.

Patrick: I said “Good. How about you?”

Ashleigh: UGH!

Patrick: Does that count?

Ashleigh: It’s the lack of any discerning detail. Any day can be “good”. I say “Good. I did the XYZ Project this morning without a hitch.”

Patrick: I tried. My brain’s just not quick enough.

Ashleigh: I try to usually as questions that require more than one word. Or ask two questions so I get more than one word. How was your day? Did you talk to Mike about the party at his house for the 4th?

Sometimes it backfires though if they have the same answer. Like, are you having a good day? Did you get your bonus check? “Yes”. Fuck you.

Patrick: LOL. Yes, that’s good. “How was your day” invokes an automated response. The reptilian part of my brain answers before I have a chance to process the question.

Ashleigh: Well, get out of here, Patrick McElizard.

I’m trying ladies. Please know…I am trying.

sound off, friends!

I have no idea where they came from, but as of late, there has been a real influx of Debbie Downer comments on the AOT. Every time I mention the relationship with the SM in a light that isn’t as favorable as Cinderella and Prince Charming, someone out there thinks that they know what they are talking about and give me their two cents.

Now as far as I know, I don’t know this person and there really isn’t anyway that this person knows the SM. And if 2 and 2 are 4, one can only assume this person knows nothing about our relationship either.

I am an opinionated person; there is no question about that. I have my political and religious views and thoughts about whether or not it’s all right to wear white shoes after Labor Day. But one thing that I would never comment on is the status of someone’s relationship with their significant other. I am a staunch advocate of the statement that you have the right and responsibility to yourself to stay committed so long as there is more good than bad in your relationship, according to the people engaged in the relationship. It is not my business how dysfunctionally you keep your shit together. I have been friends with people who have dealt with financial issues, medical issues, addictions, distance, religious differences, you name it – and never once have I told my friend that they were wrong for trying to work it out. There is no way that anyone else can truly understand exactly what their friend is going through. Even if you came from very similar circumstances or even were siblings in the same house, your life experience can vary so greatly that someone from outside your microcosm of similar stories can turn out completely different. Given that fact, no one has the wisdom or knowledge to accurately suggest how, when or why someone should handle their lives.

Unless, of course, your pattern of living directly infringes upon someone else’s pattern of living in a negative way. If your lack of proper attention forces you into the back of my truck at a high rate of speed, I have a right to get your information and make your insurance go up. If you’re at a ballgame with your kids and there are drunken, belligerent fools around you with no profanity filters, you can have a word with them or enlist the event security to have them escorted out. You can tell a friend it hurts your feelings if they are consistently late for the plans you make. Wake up your old man if he’s snoring too loud. Take back the covers. If your livelihood or comfort are negatively affected by someone else, that is the only time you have the right and responsibility to tactfully and appropriately ask them to cut it the fuck out.

This post is another perfect example.

You don’t know, and I don’t care to share, every last detail about my upbringing or past relationships. Additionally, I give the same respect to the SM’s past to the point where I don’t even use his full name. I just know for a fact that we handle some issues that come up less productively than we could. But shall he who is without sin cast the first stone in that arena. There isn’t one person out there who hasn’t said, “well, I could have handled that better.” There isn’t one person who can say, “I am perfect and the model by which all others should model their crisis-management style.” There isn’t a person ever born on this green earth that hasn’t had conflict in their life. And there isn‘t one person I have ever met that can tell me how to run my life because they aren’t living it. And in this instance, don’t even know me.

I read self-help books. I go to therapy. And if something can help someone else out that I have learned through the trials and tribulations in my life, that is fantastic. I can recommend books, recommend a shrink, but I can never recommend what you do with that information. I would never suggest any of my friends to leave their significant other for any reason I created or thought to be valid according to my experience.

The problem may lie in the perception I am giving. Quite simply, if I blogged each and every day about the sweet and generous actions of my boyfriend, no one would read it because they would be busy throwing up. He holds my hand, kisses me twenty times a day, spoons me at night and even cooks healthy and low-carb dinners a few times a week. He pays for more than his share of the bills and isn’t jealous when I need to make time for myself. He tells me I’m sexy/talented/smart and takes out the trash (most of the time). He does all of the laundry. He makes me laugh uncontrollably and keeps things in perspective. He’s gorgeous, he’s smart, driven and he’s unbelievable in the sack. But honestly, he has an Irishman’s temper. He plays the martyr sometimes. He takes things personally. He leaves his dishes on the sink instead of putting them in the dishwasher. He’s a bad singer. He’s not perfect?!

Big fucking deal.

I’m an overemotional crybaby. I’m terrible with money. I take things too personally. I have a temper. I can be lazy. I get epic PMS straight from the 5^th or 6^th ring of Hell. My feet smell like Fritos. Ask him.

We do all we can to put up with each other some days. A huge majority of the days, it’s the easiest job in the world and I have the honor to be able to pile up even more proof that the SM is who I want to spend the rest of my days with. Every day, that is my determination and choice. And that determination and choice has absolutely zero effect on anyone else’s livelihoods. There is SO much more that I love about him than qualities that bug me. I know that I share my life with the public via the AOT, but I choose to share the interesting and comical bits, not the repetitive, boring bits. I don’t comment on other people’s relationships and I don’t feel like I need to defend my choices, especially to people who don’t know jack about me, the SM or where we come from. I just share the lessons I learn, the questions I have, so people don’t feel alone. This thing called life is a very common phenomenon we all share and feeling like we are in the same boat as others is something that only the human species can comprehend.

Ask anyone who knows the SM and I. In fact, I encourage those people who do know us to comment on this blog. We are a cool muthafuckin’ couple who gets along more often than I write about because getting along is boring to read about. No use in being the Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag of the blogosphere. No need to set up cheesy photo-ops of the SM giving me a piggy back ride through a carnival while I eat cotton candy and giggle like a high school cheerleader. We don’t slurp spaghetti like the Lady and the Tramp. No one does. LIFE is the business of the montage below. Go live yours and mind your own.

benefit of the doubt.

Sometimes I am at a complete loss as to how to breach topics and approach issues with people, even the SM.  I think I have things figured out (or at least I don’t feel like I am in the total dark), but then, here comes life, with the a left hook.  Maybe it’s an exercise in humility, I don’t know.  But here is a prime example.

Nine times out of ten, when I bring up an issue I am having, the SM tried to offer some sort of advice.  Maybe it’s an idea of what to say, maybe it’s another view on how to look at the situation.  I try to be patient and realize than men don’t understand that women talk to vent and are perfectly capable of coming to conclusions on their own.  His points can be valid points to chew on while I digest the situation. 

Knowing this, when the SM brings up something that is frustrating him, I try to listen and suggest things to help as well.  Guys are problem-solution type of creatures, so I do my best to mold into that.  I do my best to not be condescending or bossy about anything.  I ask more questions, I try to get the whole story and God forbid, I try to be optimistic.  Even then I still come out looking the fool and like I don’t care….when anyone from outside of the relationship can see objectively that all I am trying to do is help. 

I know that everyone has been through the ringer a time or two and brings their own baggage to relationships.  Being hurt in previous relationships can certainly alter your capacity for trusting in others.  But it would do a world of good if one step could be made towards believing the intentions of your new/current significant other.  I am just as guilty of this at times as others, and I know it’s something I need to work on, one throw-down at a time.  But the simple benefit of a doubt that you can give someone would be invaluable and eliminate so many arguments that don’t need to be fought.

We have chosen this person with whom to be.  We prefer being with this person over anyone else we’ve come across.  We love them and one of our goals is to make them happy; to be better people because of each other; to have one another to lean on.  So why, in the heat of a discussion, are we so quick to assume that the other person is actually consciously devising ways to make our lives MORE difficult?  Why do we assume that viable suggestions are stabs at our incompetency? 

Why do we assume these things from people we love, when the truth is the exact opposite?  I don’t want the SM to stress about money, work, family or relationship stuff.  I want him to prefer home to work and his smile heals my heart when I’ve had a bad day - so I hate to see him NOT smiling.  I think he is incredibly smart and capable and, believe it or not, wiser and even more capable than myself in some areas.  He has the strengths in some areas of life that I wish I had and I’m sure the feeling is reciprocated in other areas.  But again…why, in the midst of turmoil do we turn all of our frustrations outward and refuse to acknowlege that we are in the fight together?  That we chose each other so we wouldn’t have to face life’s bullshit alone?  Why is being right so much more important than just being, and listening?

This is the conundrum wrestling around in my brain today.  Of course, I have a plethora of other observations to share with you, but those will have to wait for another time.  Until next time, kiddies.

classic post: ashleigh pash.

From the annals of MySpace comes forth the original post that I wrote a few days after meeting my match, my soulmate, my sparring partner and best friend whom you have all come to know and love as my SM.  Enjoy.

This last weekend I was in Cleveland for St. Patrick’s Day. I was supposed to meet up with some dudes who shall remain nameless…but very uncharacteristically and uncool of them, I didn’t hear much in the way of anything from them past a text Friday night. So Saturday, I decided I was not going to be upset, I have nothing to lose here, no one to impress…I’m going to go out and have a BLAST….no dudes, just great girlfriends and beers. We went to the Flat Iron in the flats and this is how it all went down - how I got a new #1 friend on my Friends list:

My dearest colleague Leslie had a sash on that said, “Kiss me I’m Irish”…as we walked into the bar, Todd and his friends were sitting at a table downstairs and his friend Matt said, “Wow, look at miss america over here” (referring to Leslie’s sash) and Todd saw me and said, “Forget her, I have GOT to meet the blonde in the hat.” I didn’t see him then. We went over to the bar and got a beer for everyone and BSed some…then headed upstairs because there was an irish band playing (as well as the OSU/Xavier game - YEAH BUCKS).

About an hour later, Todd and his friends came upstairs…and as they came up the stairs (so he says), I walked by (not looking in his direction) because I HAD to go over and grab Leslie’s ass. He turned to his friends and said, “Now, I REALLY have to meet this chick.” haha.

So they came up and went over to the upstairs bar. We’re all walking around, etc…and we meandered over towards his group of friends and I that’s when noticed him. I got Leslie’s attention and point him out. “Les, look at this guy, he’s so hot…I gotta meet this guy.” He had a green Ireland shirt on over top a white thermal shirt, really cute tore-up jeans and a big Guinness button on his shirt. And great shoes. Leslie yells: “Hey…you stole my button!” And he looks up from his Guinness, like, “who me?” He hands it over. I apologize for my debaucherously wasted friend and he said, that’s ok, what’s your name?

And I knew from right there, it was (as trite as it sounds) love at first sight.

We sat down at a table together, and started talking…and talked from about 3:30 until about 8 pm or so. About everything, ourselves, our families, our past lives, friends, etc., etc. And we were totally sober…we were both our friends’ DDs! (We each had a beer or two, but weren’t impaired). We had so much in common….and of course, because of the date, we had to talk about our heritages….he is half italian, half irish…i am half german, half irish…and we had to do what irish people do on St. Pat’s….I got an amazing kiss.

I got this phone number and email….and as he wrote, I asked him for his last name. He said Pash.

Ashleigh Pash? Really?! I laughed. But strangely, I was good with the way it sounded. We joked about going to the courthouse down the road and making it official.

Everyone who met him that day felt that he was a good guy and came off very sincere and sweet and genuine. It wasnt just me being completely infatuated with a new boy. Everyone could see the goodness he was eminating. It was so comfortable…so easy.

At that point, he and his friends were supposed to get back down to Akron (where he lives) to go the Barley House. He asked us to come. So I gathered up the troops and we headed out. They parked at Tower City, so I stuffed me, Robin and Katie and him and 2 of his friends in my truck and drove them there. And then we got on our way to AK-rowdy. I dropped Katie off at her house and then Robin and I headed to Barley House to dance it up. We had to wait in line to get in and it was FREEZING! But Todd was texting from inside, saying he’d warm me up. haha.

We finally got in, with the help of some people who claimed to be my parents who we chummed up with in line. We found ‘em and hit the dance floor. The music selection was good, but they wouldn’t play a whole song..the DJ kept mixing and mixing…where it was almost annoying, but the company was so good, so I didn’t mind. He dances like a complete rockstar. Totally better than most white dudes. He just kept looking at me and smiling….and we just enjoyed each others company.

Around 1, I realized I needed to get home because I had to drive back to Charlotte the next day…so I told him I needed to go…but I didn’t want to. And he didn’t want me to leave. So he walked us out to the car in the cold…and stopped me before i could get in. He looked me in the eyes and planted the most unbelievable kiss on me. I was floored.

He told me he didn’t want me to think he wanted to just hook up with me…that he thought i was a great girl and just wanted to spend time with me. In my 26 years, I had never heard anything so welcoming. But I told him I had to leave. I had to be a good girl. Gotta leave something to the imagination right?

He asked if I was hungry.

This guy was relentless! I suggested breakfast the next morning. He said, “Absolutely.” My heart melted a little bit.

We decided on 10 am….and Robin and I went home to bed. The next morning, I packed up, hugged my beautiful girls goodbye and headed to Waffle House. When I got there, I saw (for your Royaltonites) Jim Reynolds (Jeff’s big brother) AND Mr. Janicek, the 7th grade math teacher. WTF. haha. Jim left too quickly for me to say hi, but I talked to Mr. J until Todd got there.

We sat there from 10 until noon, talking about everything…past relationships, music, food, you name it. He had this fabulous scruff on his face. I was just blown away. As we sat, enjoying each others company, the most perfect song came on the jukebox… “I Put A Spell On You” by Nina Simone. I looked at him and said, “I like this song.” And he said, “Yeah, it’s pretty appropriate, isn’t it?”

At that point, I realize it’s almost noon and I NEEDED to get back to Charlotte I had about 500 miles to get under my belt. He paid the bill and we went out to my car. It was freezing out and we held each other for a while and started kissing. I started to laugh. He asked me why. I was laughing because we were making out in a ghetto-ass Waffle House parking lot. All class - all the time.

He said, “Well, it’s a fun story, one we can tell our grandbabies.”

This guy is for real?!? He’s not a figment of my imagination?!?

We got in my car because it was too damn cold out (he was shaking) and talked for a little bit longer. Eventually we got a few more kisses out of the way and decided he’d need to come down to Charlotte to visit. He got out and I left. We texted and called each other the whole ride back to Charlotte…and once I got there and ate and got a bath, we talked until 3 am on the phone.

The next morning, I called and woke him to talk on my way to work…I called him at lunch…and until 3 am the next night. I have done the exact same the last 4 days. I can’t talk to him enough.

I am convinced. And he is too. He’s putting up his resume this weekend and beginning to look for jobs. In Charlotte. I’ve never felt this way, and neither has he. We just automatically felt so comfortable with each other and I never want to look back. I know it’s crazy, it’s bizarre, it’s over the top. But no matter what you call it, it’s real.

I think I have thought up the best way to describe it.

It’s like I have loved him my whole life. I just had to meet him to tell him.

the luck of the irish.

I’ll apologize up front for the multitude of St. Patrick’s Day/anniversary related posts.  Just bear with me.

I was sitting here getting all sad and mopey again about not being able to go to Cleveland for St. Patrick’s Day.  I got to thinking about what a fun day it was with my girls and of course, meeting my soulmate.

I just wish we could go up to Cleveland as planned.  All I wanted was to be able to go home, go to the Flat Iron and remember what it felt like the day I met my future, my life.  The day I figured out what love is supposed to feel like.

Ever since then, I haven’t looked back and just keep looking forward.  I forgot what it was like without the SM in my life.  I know that it was just a matter of time until I met the person I was meant to be with forever and just had the opportunity to tell him I loved him.  And I realized something important as I sat here, miserable and shitty at work. 

That day was so special.  With getting up and coming up to Cleveland in the snow with Robin and Katie, rocking out to the newly-released Amy Winehouse album….to pre-gaming at Leslie and Katie’s, to the drive up to downtown from North Royalton, to walking into the Flat Iron like we owned it….to getting that first beer at the bar downstairs and moving upstairs for the Irish band…to going to the bathroom and seeing the man of my dreams come up those stairs…and sealing our fate with our very first kiss:

…no matter what we do, from any anniversary from here on out, there wasn’t a more special perfect day than that day….and there won’t be another until our wedding day or the birth of our children.  I couldn’t have scripted my life anymore favorably or been any happier with that day.  There was nothing like seeing his face and smile for the first time and finally feeling whole. 

So here is to 2008 - Another year, another city, another chance to make memories good enough to tell the grandkids.