what’s wrong with a safe bet?

My nose is running and periodically throughout the episode my hands sweep over my face, pushing tears into my hair.  The final episode of Sex and The City aired tonight.  I couldn’t watch it with anyone… I feared someone might talk or cry or do something to cause me to miss even a second of my life on screen.  It’s only my life because of the search to feel complete within myself.  Like my dog, the show has seen me through boyfriends and breakups.  Through a marriage, through some crap ex-boyfriend actually stealing the first three seasons on DVD from my apartment.  I’m sure of it.  I realized after watching that episode why I cried so much.  Because I’m still searching, too.  Looking for that love, the kind that is inconvenient, and consumes you, and makes life filled with those memories that taste good.  Aftertaste. 

I want that passion and love and devotion in my life again.  I don’t feel empty without it, but it certainly is missing.  Perhaps I analyze too much, am too critical or not critical enough.  When life seems unbearable, after finding my ex lied to my face, the whole time coming home trying to get me pregnant…  and after living through an abortion for a baby I wanted…for a life I wanted, I didn’t mourn.  I picked myself up, said fcuk you, wiped my tears and began to date again.  I’m sick of never choosing men.  I was fat all my life, and fat girls get chosen last for everything from kickball, to seven minutes in heaven, to dance.  I had no choice.  I liked the boys that liked me growing up, the ones who played chess and dungeons and dragons… lets face it.  I didn’t have choices; I had Mexican gardeners who pushed leave blowers staring at me.  I didn’t get to choose boys. 

Now I have choice, and I always pick what is safe, the one who likes me best and shows it.  I pick the men who fall all over themselves showing me how much they like me, how great they think I am.  But if they didn’t, would I even want them?  Then I think of times when I was in pain, curled in fetal position, crying for god to please take the pain away, please protect me, please give me strength to get through this, please.  Then I swallow and let the tears go.  I remember that pain and wonder, what’s wrong with a safe bet?  I look in Hallmark stores with the rows of sympathy cards.  We all suffer, and we all want someone safe there to catch us, to wipe our tears, to bring us ice cream and hold our hand.  What’s wrong with someone who loves me to death… is that so bad?  It’s what we’re all looking for… but it can’t be everything… I have to love myself to death first.  And I’m not there yet.  But I will be.



  1. In the meantime, you should have some ice cream and some tea. Or, you could have tea and toast. That's my surefire way to feel better. Reminds me of another time and another, happy place.

  2. Can I just say this is one of the most awesome things you have ever written?

    I love it. So real.

    You translate your emotions into feelings like no one I know. Whether its happy or depressing, I always smile reading you because I know what an amazing job you did in bringing your writing alive.

    More more more!!!!!

  3. Stephanie: Happiness is not a destination. It isn't something you have or don't have. You never "arrive" at happiness. And life doesn't have a reset button every time you don't happen to like the outcome.

    Happiness is analog, not digital.

    Throw your TV away. It's a fucking TV show for chrissakes. Quit looking for your life in THEIR lives (they are CHARACTERS).

  4. to whomever didnt leave a name on the last comment : are you one of those people who get a thrill out of telling kids that santa claus isnt real? at least we all know you wont have kids to ruin. what a sad creature that you are.

  5. I don't even know you and I LOVE you! You have quite an amazing gift with traslanting what's inside with words. I don't want to sound any cornier but here it is: I believe yours is a life filled with passion that also translates into wisdom that will touch many. That's all I'm comfortable saying to somebody I don't know! I loved this episode too. I watched with a bunch of people and held it back. I watched again on Tivo this afternoon when nobody was around and let it flow.

  6. Hedgie, go ahead and help further the insane notion that this is somehow theraputic for her. Diaries are theraputic. A blog is publicity. She's obviously seeking some kind of validation (or reward) for her choices in life. If only she could validate them for herself without needing "fans" to help pump her up.

    But hey, if you're naive enough to think that broadcasting every personal detail of your life to everyone (including coworkers) will end up being helpful, then uh, o-kay.

    So go ahead and say "you go girl"

  7. Hey Chappie, or whatever name you don't go by… I've said this to you before, and I'll say it again:

    I write because I can't not write. I write 3 pages of longhand every morning that I never share with anyone. I post because I like what I write; it entertains me. So why not put it out there for others to relate to, or object to, or whatever? Good writing is honest. I'm being honest, and I enjoy sharing because I am human. I'll share with anyone, friends, strangers, and why not co-workers? We're all real, ya know. I don't feel shame in anything I write or feel because it's human. We all feel a lot of this stuff–I just have the guts to put it out there… with my REAL NAME. If you write something honest, and dare I say, put your real name to it, I'll applaud you… as long as it rings true… not spiteful. And so far, I don't see much truth in what you write. But go on, keep reading this…and feed the "publicity" all you want. Moreover, what's so wrong with publicity? When my Novel gets published I'm not going to worry, 'oh my god, who might read this.'

  8. Hey – Mr. No name. First of all you're a wuss for not putting your name next to your comments. You're one of those pathetic pukes that couldn't get a date to the prom and now have to exert their angst on someone's blog. And you obviously don't get blogs or else you wouldn't have said: "Diaries are theraputic. A blog is publicity. " You're an idiot. Blogs ARE diaries, only they're ONLINE dairies. And validation?!? I think Stephanie has got a serious set of nads for putting such personal information up for the world to see. She's got a hell of lot more guts then you my friend. All you can do is shout from the shadows. Have fun validating yourself.

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