That Kind Of Woman

What I know to be true…

1. I know that I would rather have wooden floors than any other.
2. I know netflix has changed my way of watching series/films I would have never watched before.
3. Companionship and camaraderie are essential to my interactions.
4. I enjoy dipping lemon slices into sugar as a late night treat.
5. The spelling of my name was after Katharine Hepburn.
6. I like mattresses that walk the line of soft and oh-too-firm. 
7. I like to dance, or shimmy or shake. I like to move when I can.
8. I am very good at pool, i just need to relax and trust myself. 
9. I make a damn good breakfast.
10. I get scared and lonely sometimes. 

I think we realize a little more something about ourselves each time we extend ourselves to others. It may be at the bus stop, with a smile and a hello. It may be a presentation at work or for school. It may be putting yourself out there to meet someone who lives a thousand miles away.

I am me. I don’t have to be the same person I was yesterday, or two years before that. That is such a blessed thing to realize. It’s so hard being accountable for other people’s feelings when things are out of your control. Distance, timing, or situation. 

We gave it a try, we met. Things were tough. Things were amazing. But, at the end of the day if I am not truthful to myself then what good am I to another person, especially another person who deserves me to be the fullest person I can to my fullest potential, then I am taking advantage of what they are willing to give.

I am not in a position to be in a relationship with anyone.

There. I said it. Actually, I dodged around that…

I do not want to be in a relationship right now.

Damn. That’s it. 

This I realize. It’s amazing to realize that, especially after years of not understanding why I couldn’t find “the one” to be with.

Because, (past me), you were and are so young. You are a baby in the world, your experiences are yours, not to happen once someone finds something worthy in you. I thought a lot of my potential as a person was wasted on the fact I was single. I mean, how messed up is that, to think that way as a 19, 20, 21 year old. My worth was determined in my eyes by the fact that someone wanted me.

Not to say I settled. I could have. I think everyone could settle. For someone who doesn’t treat you right, or who doesn’t make you feel happy, or any other reason. I was waiting for another person to affirm what I already understood about myself, but until they showed up I would half ass my relationship with myself.

Damn. When and where did that happen? 

What can I say? It was self doubt, insecurity and the overall feeling of being left out. You feel left out when you can’t find someone, especially when those around you seem to find a perfect equivalent. As I become more and more sure of the person I am, of what I am giving to the world as a whole, I realize that it was long overdue that I spend time cultivating myself. Doing things I like, getting better at activities I liked, doing things I wanted to. 

That leads to a different path, one that asks the question “What do I like doing?” and “Why?”. Then there is the whole “graduating college and spending a year in a topsy turvy world of possibilities” not that there is anything wrong with that. I have learned my strength, and weaknesses.

However, just because you know those things doesn’t mean you are suddenly complete. God, it sure doesn’t. I am a mess. I weep in the arms of my friends, I yell and laugh and dance in the company of kindreds. I make bad decisions. But, it’s how I handle the consequences. It’s okay to do bad things. It is, as long as you realize they were bad and you advance and adjust. 

So, I sit here. Realizing that I cannot be accountable for anyone but myself. I can’t. Not until I make a very conscious choice to merge my life with someone who also has realized that it takes a whole lot of self growth before you can grow as a pair. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

I once met a guy via tumblr. I was young, and hadn’t ever really been in a relationship. It was long distance, and because he and I weren’t very well suited for each other, things got difficult. It wasn’t as clean cut as I made it. It hurt a lot, especially when all i felt like was a passing fancy. I wanted grand romantic gestures and words. This guy, he just wasn’t that guy. I learned a lot. I also lied to myself. I told myself that I wouldn’t date from the internet. Casual flirtations… okay, yeah. 

But I told myself that boys from the internet were that. Just boys, a distraction. What me as a 20/21 year old thought she wanted out of a 25 year old boyfriend…. it was ridiculous.

Now, hold on… I have dated off the internet. I have sat back and watched my friends date, family members. I see compatibility and compassion. Understanding. Friendship. I had bad dates with good guys, I had good dates with bad guys. 

It’s a minefield. 

It’s brutal. And I thought that I was evolved. I was evolved because I didn’t settle into a relationship with someone who wasn’t right for me, and me not being right for them. I thought that I could conquer all. That I could bolding walk through the dating world, and not give any fucks. 

Boy was I wrong. Because just when you think you know exactly what you want, and exactly how to voice it. Bam. Someone falls into your lap. Virtually of course, so it’s not sunshine and rainbows. It’s like rain clouds and storms. 

Because I am telling myself repeatedly that it’s been 6 weeks. We talk everyday. Hours and hours of talking. Laughing. Teasing. Meeting parents, friends, family. It’s inside jokes. It’s liquor flavored words that spill from our lips. 

It’s not easy. Mostly because we had plans before we started talking. He’s going across the world to teach english for a year. I am straddling the city/country life. I am paying student loans and trying to establish myself as a dedicated and creative worker. He’s figuring out what do do for the next 5 years. So am I.

So when we glow at each other, it’s so great. He makes me float through things. I know he’s there for me, for little things or big things. To talk them over, to suggest and support. He is a part of my life. Day to day. And I am for him.

He’s coming to visit. In less than 2 weeks. I am terrified. My stomach leaps and jumps. I am so glad to have him in my life.

I think I lied to myself and him the first week were talking and I told him that I would never do a long distance relationship. I was too scared.

Because I realized something. I’d be a fool not to at least give this a shot. Not to give as much support and enthusiasm to him and us, as he is. Just because a version of me went through something that is vaguely similar.

It’s not even close. This time. Gosh, this time, it’s different. And I am so very excited. 

I don’t know why I am telling you this. Ah, whatever. Enjoy a little snippet into my romantic life, followers. 

I like to lose my lipstick
on the mouth of a beer bottle.

Pick delicately at the label,
usually damp from the sweat that collects. 
Excitement hidden
behind a bored face
as I see that maybe
just
maybe 
the label will come off clean.

If it doesn’t
I feel like my night,
or at least until I get a new bottle,
will be chaotic. 

The label makes it 2/3rds of the way
then tears
the breath I was holding
comes out in a huff.

Another label too stubborn
to come loose
under my careful fingers. 

I have not, honestly ever had as much male appreciation as I have had in the past couple months. I know it’s a weird thing to state, or reflect on, but I find that my transition from a teenager with no romantic interactions, to my romantic interactions as a young woman.

The scene changes depending where you hang out and what you do. But, in the past 2 years I have realized a lot about myself. Most recently, continual understanding of myself as an attractive person.

Not just physically. I am betting it’s not just physical, but it’s how I carry my physicality. The compliments that I have received are not only flattering because they compliment how I present myself, but how I act.

Men who I have been friends with for years are coming out of the wood work and telling me how much they find me attractive.

It’s bizarre. And awkward. It’s hard to look at a guy you have literally seen climb a building in jean short cut offs with inappropriate sharpie made illustrations on his body while handling a 40, and see a candidate for a relationship. It’s hard to look the 6’6” stoner who lived across the alley for a year, and also a former tenant of your family rental company and take him seriously when he asks you out and crudely informs you of how you fill out your top. 

I used to be pretty invisible to advances like this. I was in the first few years of college courted by guys for all the wrong reasons. They wanted to conquer, I was naive, but steadfast in my chastity. They moved on. Then I dated long distance, and gained some footing on what I can give to a relationship. An adult relationship.

I casually dated, I kissed, I flirted. For a while I did this. I felt… lost. Lost in the casual relationships other people wanted to build. And giving men i didn’t want to date a chance to date me. I don’t want that. So I stopped being nice to guys just because they voiced I was attractive.

I now laugh these guys off, pat them on the should and say “Sorry, bud, not interested.” But, it feels like a victory to myself that my face, and body haven’t changed in the last 5 years, but the way I carry myself has, and being able to hold fast to the standards that I want.

I dress to reflect my personality, I have confidence. I am not fearful of social settings anymore. Because, it’s my choice to be in them, or remove myself from them. I can be myself, and that is what is usually most attractive about someone. 

Sure, some guys are just going to look at camaraderie and just see that, and other guys are going to step looking to poke, pinch, and prod. 

It’s all about how you handle yourself. Don’t allow someone to manipulate you, or manipulate others into thinking things about you. Your choices and actions are what define you. How you handle rude men, or polite ones are your choice. 

I am extremely fortunate to have the security of knowing so many of the bartenders, door men, and security guys that live in town. I have friends that have checked my building when doors and windows have be broken. I have the constant understanding that if someone messes with me or my friends, I have authorities, and “big brothers” to go to. 

Playing pool has taught me so much about how men, in bars, usually treat women. Not only me, but the women around me. It’s also taught me that there are rules to the game and to the social situation.

Sure, these are small town bars, parties, social settings. But, it’s taught me a lot about myself in relation to how people see me.

Anyway, I am really quite happy being single right now. I am exploring friendships, my feelings are genuine and I’ve learned to be the authority on my dating life, and my feelings. 

We’d venture for each other to do the silliest things.
Make funny faces during serious talks,
purposely froth our beers to leave a mustache of foam.

Your deep, loud voice, and my uninhibited laughter filled up any place we’d be.

That’s the thing about us.
Everyone would notice. 

I enjoy living alone immensely.
With the exception of when I am sick.

Or, maybe I like being able to crawl around in sweat pants, with messy hair and be messy. But, I don’t like pressing my cold hands to my hot forehead, or dragging my small mattress to the ground and throwing all the pillows and blankets on it to create a nest that is just a substitute for someone holding me. 

 I enjoy being able to cough, and sneeze without thinking that it sounds gross.But I don’t enjoy brewing a single cup of tea. Or watching movies I would much rather watch while being cuddled.  

I don’t like to share my weaknesses with people, but a lot of me wants to be able to share that side of myself with someone. With someone who will just be, with me, on a nice Monday night in March, and keep me company while the meds kick in. 

Who will run out for a box of the extra soft tissues because I only have the bargain brand that makes my nose all red. 

Yeah, or maybe I really just like living alone. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

You make me want to be woman.

Pure woman.
Curve of the hips, soft skin.
Silky hair, parted lips.
Dark eyes, slip of the tongue.

We’ll lay in bed in the morning light,
me breaking and mending my heart
to every characteristic of your face.

I’d talk when you’d want to keep silent.

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

I suppose one of the most important things I have been learning about myself and about love is that perhaps, maybe I am supposed to mess up a couple more times before I get it right.

I am in the place, physical that is, where the men I meet are boys. Honestly, it’s surprising when they aren’t. I think maybe I attract a certain kind of idea about the kinds of love that I can give to people.

I am a nurturer. I like to cook, comfort, and establish a cozy sort of relationship. I like being a touchy feel-y person, I like to hold hands and bump shoulders down store aisles. I like to lay on the couch, all tangled up and watch old movies. Laughing in the car, sharing truths.

I think this hurts me. It wounds me. I become weaker and weaker in the relationship. Or you know, it’s not even a relationship. It’s the honeymoon stage. After the meet. 

I keep myself to myself, but in the moments that can fall into an easiness, I do. I tumble. It’s not until I have space, that realize that my feelings overall, and his feelings, aren’t matching up. I always establish the rules. No casual sex. Friends first. Let’s take this slow.

I repeat these. Over and over. I stick to them. But what about what he feels, what about what he perceives out of our time together? Does he think these are just things I say? Are these just guidelines that can be smudged and moved around? No. They aren’t.

I back up. I need space. I need time to consider what it is that you need from me, and if I can give it. I try and figure out what you think I need from you, and ask myself if you are willing or able to give it.

Alright, alright. I sit here, sipping a shirley temple with an extra cherry, with no pants on. My cat trampling around my apartment. I am single. Just me. I have been trying to see someone. It’s hard to keep things grounded when it’s all smiles, and soft kisses. When we go on “non-dates” that we talked about on the first night we talked.

We are friends. We are. Because I can’t. I can’t run headlong into love. I can’t rush. 

I have always wanted the whirlwind. I want the romance. 

But, honestly it’s not gonna be like that. It can’t honestly be like that for all of us.

I’m learning to be okay with it. I am learning. I am almost sure that as I continue along, the guy I fall for, will understand that. Or at the very least, he will try. 

Here’s hoping, cheers.

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

I feel like I am in that place in my life where people are either telling me “You are so , young you have so much time.” or “what are you going to do with your life?”.

I don’t need to have it all together. I don’t need to listen to the criticism of anonymous people and feel bad about myself. I don’t even need to listen to hurtful things people may say to me in day to day life. Anger is released upon me and here I am supposed to feel hurt? Betrayed? Sad? I don’t need to feel anything, my actions will not be changed because people tell me something nasty that they think about me.

I feel like it’s been years of this back and forth with people. Telling me what I should and shouldn’t do here on my blog. It hasn’t changed thus far, so I can almost guarantee it never will. I don’t care if you feel like me sleeping through yoga, and eating bread and dip in bed is going to make me fat. Newsflash, I am the way I am. I love every little bit of my body, ya know why? Because it’s mine. Mine. Not yours, not my neighbor, not my boyfriend’s, not my mother’s. Not the president’s or the pope’s. It’s mine. I can do what ever I want to it, and with it.

I can hike mountains, or lay on the beach, I can do anything I want. I am not ashamed of it. I know it is beautiful. It is. It may not be to you, but that is probably a reflection of your own imagine of what you think a beautiful body should be. Or what someone told you, and now you have to live up to that idea. 

I can go to yoga, or eat bacon and eggs every day. I can sneak off to movies and eat twizlers, or go to the gym. I can do what ever I desire, and nothing you say will change that. I can do any or all of those things. I do all of those things.

My weight has fluctuated for the past 5 years. 150-190lbs my body has changed. Guess what? My life changed. I will never be skinny, I have said this before, I have talk about all of this before. I am amazing. I am beautiful and I am full of hope that instead of calling me self absorbed, you realize that you too should accept your body, your flaws and strengths. You should really listen to the peple who tell you are beautiful and believe them. Believe yourself when you say it.

Am I perfect? No, but really what the hell is perfection? Why do I have to adhere to someone else’s idea of what my body should be?

I started seeing someone who has been amazing at just communicating what he finds interesting and beautiful about me. The things he says are already things I knew and accepted about myself. I am compassionate, and caring. I am beautiful and funny. BUt hearing it said by someone else, it’s wonderful.

Does this happen with every person see? No. Will every person I meet think the same things? No. But that’s their problem and not mine.

I have worth as a person, and no matter what someone says about me, I can’t and won’t lose sight of it. Because in all honesty, that person is losing out on a great opportunity to have me in their lives. Selfish? Full of myself? No. I am sure of myself. Sure for the first time in my life that I am who I am. Am I fully developed? Have I cast aside all my flaws, and become all knowing and wonderful? No. I have sins, I have faults, I have vices. Accepting those things is just as important as the acceptance of my being and it’s aesthetic to others, and most importantly to myself. 

If my 16 year old self could see me now? Damn, that would be a sight. It would be awesome, because I know I was scared, and confused. I didn’t think I was beautiful, or that I had anything to give to other people. I know what I have, what I can give, and how I should receive as much if not more from the world and the people in it. Everyone should. 

If you tell yourself that you are ugly, or angry, or fat, it will happen. It will happen because you become what you tell yourself you are. I am beautiful. My sister, my mother and all the women in my family are stunning women. Not only on the outside, but because of the types of women they are and how they see themselves.

Anything you may try to throw at me, I can guarantee you I have heard it before, and it comes up lacking. It’s not something that I need to prove to you, because I have already proved or disproved it to myself. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

Treat yourself tomorrow to…. well, something.

Don’t have the extra cash? Go to a free museum, walk around in the displays you want to, don’t split it with someone else. Go to a movie, sit were ever you want to, and chuckle as loud as you want, or cry hard and loud.

Get a haircut. Go to the barber and get your face shaved. Buy something small. A tie clip. A brooch. Buy something big, like a leather weekend bag, or those shoes you have been dying to wear with that dress you got a couple months ago. Go to a bookstore, find a chair or corner and read a book you normally wouldn’t.

Buy yourself a plant. You could get flowers, and as I do dry them upside down on the pipes. Buy, go get a plant. Go to the closest place, hell even the grocery store. Go get yourself the first plant that says something to you. It maybe the only plant that isn’t the gaudy roses, or typical flowering cuteness. Get the saddest one. Give it a little place in your heart and home.

Wear a really great outfit. Maybe it’s one you wore a couple days ago and people complimented you on, maybe it’s new. Maybe it’s just and outfit you threw together last minute. Wear it. To walk the dog. To buy yourself a bottle of your favorite champagne, or to buy a bottle of sparkling juice. Pour it into the fanciest cup you have, put on an old dance mix you found in your car. Invite your single friends over at the end of the day and be glad you had an amazing day. 

Have a day to yourself. You deserve it. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

You shouldn’t care what anyone thinks about what you wear. But, just make sure that when you clothe and layer yourself you do so in a manner that reflects who you are. Not who people think you are, or who people assume you to be. Not in the things that are fads or trends. Wear what you want to wear because you feel good in it. Because it’s not about them, it never was, and never will be. It’s about you and what you love, and what suits you. It’s what makes you feel like what you wear suits who’s inside. 

As long as you wear what other’s expect you to, you are just wearing it for the everyday, why not wear it for you. Style isn’t fashion. Style is you, wearing what you want and everyone else be damned. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

Don’t ever let anyone ruin a song for you. Sometimes people come in and out of life purely to share a good song with. Or at least, I have convinced myself of that.

They have taken some of time, maybe a little of your heart, but please I beg you don’t let the music that you at one time loved be taken away. 

It may have been your freshman year of college, in some guy’s devastatingly messy dormitory and he played Hey by Pixies every time you were together. In his car, or when you sat on his bed and stared at his hands as he stared at your mouth. Then suddenly, because you didn’t know or want to move fast, he was dating a girl with purple in her hair. 

It may have been junior year of high school when your sister got into a car accident and you were right there with her in the passenger seat suspended by your seatbelt and Billie Holiday’s I Can’t Give you Anything But Love was playing in the background, amplified by the adrenaline that was pumping.

It may have been the long distance love on that one monumental night while you lay breathless on the phone. And he told you to play This Must Be the Place by Talking Heads and you swear that every part of you was separating and colliding with the wish you were laying in bed with him, and that the distance was nothing as your hands intertwined listening to one of the most beautiful song you had ever heard. Then, only a year later to miss the best friend you had developed because you wanted and needed more and you couldn’t stay silent about it, and he couldn’t give it. And every time you hear it, you ache with a little of that hope which you felt that night.

You may have heard the song in the background of a party where you were being broken up with in the hallway. You may have cried and wept to a song after your grandfather past away. You may have been throwing up into a trash can after a roller coaster, and the park speakers played the song over your nausea and fear. You may have told secrets, or lies to a certain song, and then had your trust betrayed. 

Don’t let anyone ruin any song for you. Don’t throw away that feeling, appreciate how it felt and realize that there are so may more songs to hear, and to appreciate the ones that you loved, even if the pain is still there.

(Source: thatkindofwoman)