My Budding Bromance & My Rising Romance

Romantic relationships aren't the only thing that hopeless romantic males like myself are searching for. We also dig our bromances equally, if not more so. Sure, a woman can stroke your ego, among other things, and provide you with boundless sexual pleasure.

But when you need to beat the crap out of someone in Super Smash Bros., tell someone that you almost walked down the "up" escalator because you were staring at a 10, or aim a fart in someone's direction with pride...well, then you need a Bromance.

While romantic relationships have always seemed to elude me, even when they're right in front of me, I've never had too much trouble with bromances. I'm good at being one of the guys. And lately, a new guy has come into my life, and I feel like something special is blooming.

His name's Ben, and he's a fellow Comcaster. He works on my team, he's a bit younger than me, from NY, we both enjoy video games, and he lives five blocks from me. Lately, we've been chillin' outside of work, talking on a regular basis, and...this part's key...creating inside jokes. Inside jokes are essential to ANY relationship. I live by this rule.

They say that inter-work relationships are bad. Not when it's a bromance.

Ben feels the same way. I can feel it. It's something you just know. :)

On the other hand, an actual romance is perhaps on the horizon for me, as Pam continues to blow up my blackberry on a now daily basis. Knowing I'm a movie guy, she texted me this morning just to let me know that Corey Haim's had passed (RIP). How sweet of her. Despite the morbid news. We'll be getting together at some point this weekend, and I'm very excited about it.

I'm also getting together again with OAOA on Saturday. 'Tis a battle of epic proportions.

-Spontaneous K

Dangerously On Again

I feel like I had the best sex of my life last night. And I didn't have sex.

This is why expectations are the worst ideas in the world. When you have great expectations, and they're not met, you're thrown into a bout of disappointment that's hard to pull yourself out of. When you have bad expectations, it paralyzes you and you can literally create the outcome you so vigorously feared.

I can honestly, truly say that this was the greatest weekend so far of 2010, even though it started out with a Panic Attack so epic that I thought my subsequent weeks to months were ruined. The reason my weekend ended up being so great was because I defied my own expectations.

Before I continue any further, I promise, promise for any new readers coming in, tonight I'm going to be placing TAGS on all my posts thus far, because my story is a pretty detailed one, and if you're jumping in straight in the middle, I wouldn't want you to have missed any of the good stuff. And things are just getting good again.

Spring's coming. It was almost 50 degrees this weekend and will almost be 60 today and tomorrow. I didn't even have any trouble waking up this morning. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It's one of this sickeningly happy mornings that you only see in the movies. Since spring is just around the corner...let's consider this the end of Season 1 of [My Own Voice Over] and the premiere of Season 2.

See how I did that? Seasons? Because Spring is a season? Aren't I clever?

For anyone following, you're probably wondering how my evening went with OAOA. Things have been rocky and emotional between us to say the least, especially since the her trip to the ER, which I thought was an amazing time and actually wasn't.

Well last night actually was an amazing time.

We were going to the Continental Midtown, which is a snazzy joint, so I wanted to look nice, but I didn't want to get too dressed up, because I didn't want her to think it was a date. But I also didn't want to dress down too much so it would seem like I didn't care. I said "Screw it" and went with what I felt comfortable with. You can't go wrong with a nice button-down, jeans, and solid shoes.

It was a really nice, quiet evening at the Continental, low music, low lighting, small crowd...we found a cozy corner on a tiny couch, her sipping on a sweet Martini, me relishing in a glass of Cabernet, the both of us celebrating our recent career successes. There wasn't a moment we weren't smiling. There wasn't a moment we weren't giggling or joking or looking attentively into the others' eyes, listening as hard as we could to what the other had to say. We ordered cheesecake and shared it together. We took pictures of the two of us on our phones. I felt confident, secure, and alive...I felt happy.

I know she's not my girlfriend. I know she doesn't want that from me. And as much as I'm in love with her and want that from her, I haven't given up because I believed there was something worth saving in there, and that just because she was a female, doesn't mean she couldn't be one of the closest friends I have. The connection we have is one I haven't had with anyone else, and I know she feels the same, even though not in a romantic manner. Last night proved to myself that I respected her boundaries and gave her the space she wanted enough to trust me again...and maybe we really are "On Again" as best friends.

I know I make her out to be this confusing, wicked female on here sometimes, someone who is dead set on making my head spin, but I wasn't so wonderful to her either in the six months we've known each other. I've been overbearing, melodramatic, needy, clingy...all those things a girl never wants. The reason I believe we keep giving each other second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth chances is because we know there's something great there that shouldn't be discarded...it just needs to be worked on.

As I spoke of in My Role As Friend and also more privately discussed with My First Internet Enemy (whom I miss...Katie if you're reading this, come say hi!) everybody has a specific role in our lives, whether we realize it or not. And MFIE noted to me that while I'm looking for that one person to fill ALL my needs, find people that can fill singular needs in your life, and build and foundation that way.

OAOA fills a big role in my life...some way, some how. And I'm looking forward to see how Pam fits into the whole picture. :)

Happy Spring, all. It's going to be a good season. :)

-Spontaneous K

Getting Back Up On The Ball Return

The title of this post makes absolutely no sense to you, but it will.

My last post, whether you have or have not read it, was a difficult one for me to write. No one likes to advertise their flaws to the world. It (usually) makes them feel quite vulnerable and less worthy of whatever. Let's say someone's friendship or respect. It's surprising to me, however, how often people do the exact opposite when you admit your flaws...they empathize with you and respect you more. Tell you that you're strong.

I also suppose what I'm going through isn't necessarily a character flaw, merely a fact of life. People go through shit. I'm going through shit. There isn't a person I'm going to meet at my age who has some perfect life put together and doesn't feel like it's going to fall apart sometimes. The trick is to find people whose shit complements your shit and you can fix your shit together.

We call that shit love. :)

And while at this point in my life I haven't had so much luck in the "romantic" category of love, I'm quite wealthy in the department of friends and family. I'm extremely fortunate to have people in my life who not only understand what I'm going through, but are being patient and helping me through it...my poor mother for one. I wanted to spend most of my Saturday in my bed, scared to leave the apartment in case of another panic attack, but my mother assured me that my Friday night panic attack was an incident not a setback. This was very important for me to understand, and she had to pound it into my brain several times before I got up, went to my local Starbucks, and wrote yesterday's post.

That evening, I was petrified to go to my friend Andrew's birthday. It was an hour away from my apartment, truly a distance for anyone whose ever had a panic attack and wants to be close to somewhere "safe." But I went. We were to have dinner and go bowling. It was going to be a whole evening. Probably a solid five hours of hanging out. That's a long time for me to spend with people as of late. But I went.

And by god, did I have a blast.

It was me and five of my best friends, guys I've known for over a decade. We've been bowling together since high school, it's one of our favorite past times, and we get really, really into it.

We're also quite good.

This was the first time playing at the alley we were at, so we talked about "breaking in the ball return" or "popping it's cherry." Why would anyone ever want to do that? What does that even mean?

I don't even know how this tradition got started, but we've literally been doing it since we were fifteen years old, and if you don't go through with it, it's bad luck. Every time you get a turkey (three strikes in a row for anyone who doesn't know) you have to hop onto the ball return and ride it like a bull.

It's ridiculous. It draws an insane amount of attention. But it's so much god damn fun when all your friends are cheering you on.

I rode the ball return twice last night. :)

It felt good to be out and to feel confident after having such a horrific evening prior. My mother was right. It wasn't a setback...it was just an incident. If I held onto it, then it would be a setback. But I had to just keep moving forward, and I did.

Amidst the evening, OAOA did text me...she got into an Art Show she had applied for in Seattle. She was so excited...and she wanted me to come celebrate with her soon, which is what I'm going to be doing with her in about two hours from now. Getting a drink at the Continental Midtown, something we've been planning on doing for months, before going on and off. I know what you're all going to say...the same things you've been saying to me before.

Sever the ties. Kick the bitch in the face.

Aaah, but I can't yet. Perhaps I haven't learned my lesson. Perhaps I'm a fool with a good heart and high hopes. Perhaps I believe that deep down she's got good intentions for the both of us, even if they're not exactly what I want.

But one thing's for sure...Pam did finally get back to me. And she wants to meet me this week. And I WAS excited to hear from her this time.

So if OAOA really wants me...she might have some competition. :)

-Spontaneous K

The Truth About My "Illness"

In my "About Me" I claim that I'm a lot like JD from Scrubs. And I am. I'm goofy, I'm a bit of a woman, I have man-love for the guys in my life...I don't land as many ladies in bed as he does, but I certainly mess up relationships as regularly as he does...and he's constantly on the prowl for approval from friends and mentors.

Unfortunately, TV Land is nothing like Real Life Land...I wanted to write just now that RLL is a helluva lot worse than TVL, but it's not. It just has a lot more to offer, and some of those things can be pretty harsh and unwelcoming. While a situation like the one I have with OAOA would work perfectly well in a sitcom...what I've been dealing with for the past couple months simply wouldn't. See, there's nothing too happy or too funny that you can't put into a sitcom...but there are some things that are too hard to touch on, even for Scrubs, which deals with death and pain on a regular basis.

Maybe I'm not giving Scrubs enough credit. Anyways, here's the deal.

I'm dealing with an acute case of Panic Disorder/Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. As much as I want to portray my life on here as fun and interesting and exciting...which it is...there's also this part of me that has been struggling more than I've ever struggled in my life, and I haven't talked about it on here in fear of losing readers. But it occurred to me that the whole reason I started this blog in the first place was to help myself get out all of the emotions that I have no where to place...the emotions that some of my friends and family, and people like OAOA, just won't understand.

I had Panic Attacks when I was much younger, in my earlier teens, but they subsided with some medication. The depression, however, was something that I continued to struggle with way up until, well, now. Depression is an ugly beast. It can incapacitate you in ways you didn't think possible. But I've discovered recently that there are other ways to be incapacitated that make depression seem like a better option.

I'm not a drug user. Never have been, never will be. So whatever prompted me to try a hallucinogenic drug called Salvia right before the new year is beyond me. It was supposed to be this calming, out of body, spiritual experience...I suppose for someone who is in the right state of mind. Unfortunately, my experience was the opposite. It was the most terrifying thing that I had ever been through, and I panicked so greatly, wanting it to be over that had my friend not been there to watch me, I might not be sitting here writing these words to you.

In the subsequent weeks, I had flashbacks to the trip, severe panic attacks, and persistent symptoms of vertigo, numbness, tingling, dissociation, hot flashes. One flashback was so bad that I took myself straight to the ER.

I was pretty sure that I had done something permanent to myself. That I had altered my brain chemistry, unlocked some latent psychosis or schizophrenia, and that I was permanently damaged. I was in danger of becoming agoraphobic. I couldn't go out for extended periods of time, I couldn't see my friends, I constantly felt terribly physically ill...in every sense of the word I thought my life was over because of a stupid mistake I made.

And of course, OAOA wasn't there for me when I needed her most.

I saw every doctor to make sure I was okay. I saw a neurologist, I saw an optometrist, I saw an Ear, Nose, Throat Doctor, I'm seeing a Psychiatrist, and I had my blood taken to make sure everything was working properly.

All tests came back immaculate. I'm the healthiest 25 year old on the planet. I don't have to see another doctor for another five years, and my psychiatrist is assuring me I'm not schizo. She hasn't even diagnosed me with anything in particular, Panic Disorder and Post Traumatic Stress are my own diagnoses based on my symptoms and what I've read on the internet. She just has "General Anxiety" written down. Apparently I'm making a huge mountain out of a molehill.

But how could I not? I saw the end of my life. I literally thought that in mere moments I would lose control and be dead. And that memory lingers on within me.

This past week, the symptoms started to subside. I started to feel myself again. I went out to that show with OAOA, had my first beer in nine weeks, and I didn't freak out. THAT situation above all should have made me freak out. But it didn't. So I felt capable. I felt back on track.

Last night was supposed to be a guy's night. Five of us were going to get together at my best friend Dan's...the place where the whole bad trip went down in the first place...have a few beers and then head out into the city. I was really looking forward to it, because I hadn't had a night like that in months. I should have known better though. Merely talking about the experience is enough to induce a flashback/panic attack to the whole experience, so actually being in the location that it happened with the person that it happened is a recipe for disaster. Ever since, I had had trouble going back into his apartment. There were times where I literally waited outside for him to go in and get something, because I just couldn't step foot. Then again, there were times where I successfully spent hours there...stressful hours...but still, no panic.

Last night though, I was there for 15 minutes, and then BOOM. I was back into having the salvia trip. Dan and I were in the middle of a conversation and I said to him "Excuse me, I'm having a panic attack." And he was just like "Ooookay."

The whole experience lasted maybe fifteen to thirty seconds. I stepped out of his apartment and sat down on the steps in the hallway, closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and willed it away. But I was shaking. I was petrified. I knew I was going to be okay, but I had no interest in hanging out any longer, I wanted to go home, somewhere safe, and just...be.

Two of my friends, who were not friends with Dan, were supposed to be coming over to help show Dan's new friend around Philadelphia. When I canceled, the other two didn't come, leaving just Dan with his friend. I felt completely awful.

I spent the evening ruminating on how well I had done recently, how I took a huge step back, how I completely ruined a friend's evening, and acted out of control. That just made it worse. Sometimes I have tiny panic attacks that are easy for me to deal with, so easy that I don't even have to mention to anyone that I'm having them...but when I have one as strong as the one I did last night...well, I feel like it sets me back twenty steps. I feel like the day after I had the original bad trip. Like my life is in complete disarray and there's nothing I can do to fix it.

I'm supposed to go out tonight to my friend Andrew's birthday, about an hour away from my apartment. It scares me to want to go that far in case I feel the need to leave. Dan's apartment was literally around the corner from mine and I couldn't stay. Granted, his apartment is the trigger of all triggers...it's the place where all my current fears were unlocked, and I haven't had a panic attack NEARLY that bad in a place that wasn't his, or when I wasn't around him. So I'm sure I'll be okay. What kills me is that, right now, I can't be around my best friend or the place where he lives...

And it doesn't change the fact that I'm scared. Truly scared. I know I can't go back and change it...but of all the things in my life I wish I hadn't done, whether they were bad financial decisions, bad relationship decisions, or whatever...I wish I had never taken that drug.

Some days I feel like I've got all the strength in the world to get over this.

Today I don't.

-K

P.S. Regarding Pam, I emailed her when I got finished with OAOA, sent her something real nice, and asked if she wanted to get a cup of coffee with me on Sunday. I haven't heard from her. I know I'm not supposed to over-analyze, perhaps she's just busy...but I was hoping to hear from her again. Not a good Friday.

My Naming Convention/My Evening in Fishtown

I don't like it anymore.

Not that I don't love Scrubs, nor do I dislike the naming convention of their episodes for their episodes, but as of late I've found myself wanting to title my blog posts with a little less constraint. So this will be my last post with the "My ..." post title.

Is that alright? I hate to change the theme of a blog in the middle, but things evolve, right? I didn't really have any idea what this blog was truly going to become (still don't) when I started it, so I figure, why not let it grow into itself? It will find it's own purpose. I will find my own purpose.

The name of the blog itself, though, stays. I dig it.

Anyways, onto more important matters. OAOA. Dun dun dun. Hell, we argued about a week ago regarding space while she was in Atlanta, and I hadn't heard from her since. She didn't even respond to my "Fuck you recession" facebook status explaining to the world that I actually now have a great job, which everyone responded to. I deleted her number two days ago so I wouldn't be tempted to call.

I'm on eharmony. There. I admitted it. It's not the first online dating site I've tried either. I've tried online dating for many years on and off. Eharmony, I think, has the best method of matching people, but at the same time, I bought a year subscription, it's been nine months, and I've still had no luck. I've gone on countless dates, but nothing has truly surfaced. To be fair, I stopped checking it for about four months while OAOA and I were still somewhat questionable. A few days ago, I was matched with a girl named Pam. Like from The Office. A show which she loves. Yay, we both love funny shows! I saw her picture and her profile was only half-filled out, so there was a chance she wasn't even a full member, which meant if I emailed her, I'd get no response. She also only had two pictures, which I was "meh" about at first, but I decided "What the hell?" and sent her a message.

Much to my surprise, she updated her profile to completion, added more pictures which make her seem lovely, and we've been emailing back and forth. She seems really great. Trying not to get my hopes up, but she does.

Then...yesterday...as I'm waiting as patiently as I can for my next email from Pam, I get a text from a number that's not in my phone asking me "What r u up to tonight?" At first I thought maybe it was Pam, whom I'd given my number to. Then I realized it was OAOA.

Christ.

I ended up going to a show with her in Fishtown. Just the two of us. Granted, I had fun, and it was really nice to see her, it's like a drug high every time. I get this rush when going to see her, and it fades over throughout the night. I can never get over how beautiful she is and how I'm just not allowed to hold her or kiss her, and as we stood next to each other on the balcony, watching over a man play beautiful music on his guitar, I tried to savor the moment as much as I could thinking "I don't know how much longer I have with her in my life and I should just cherish the moment, whether she's in my arms or not."

Pam emailed me while I was with OAOA at the show. I had waited all day for that email. And I hated myself. Because when I got it, I didn't care. God damn you, OAOA.

-K