You Should Be Pressed

Every once in a while, well actually quite often, a phrase comes a long that gives me such a visceral reaction of disgust that I struggle to contain myself when I hear it. Phrases such as swag, bae and on fleek are on the list. The current culprit is:

“Im not pressed”

The context in which I have heard this phrase has always been in reference to relationships. I assume that what the person means is “I’m not in a rush to get in a relationship or have any form of intimate, genuine, authentic connection with people. I have options. You are one of many.” So forgive me if you utter these words and I adjust my interaction with you accordingly. We are clearly not looking for the same things.

I get it. Relationships are tough. Sometimes they suck. I almost daily contemplate becoming a nun, or just giving up on the human population period and wholly embracing my singleness forever and always, amen.

But call me crazy, for some reason I still have a little hope. Just the slightest bit of hope that someone will see me and say “damn, I need to get to know her.” And then they will get to know me and say “damn, I need her in my life on a consistent basis.” And then we will be consistent for a while and they will say “damn, I need to make sure that no one else gets the chance to experience this amazing creation of God that I have been blessed with.” Yep. Call me crazy but it would be kind of nice to find someone who is in fact “pressed.”

I do not like living, dating and trying to love, in a world where people are not pressed. Where no one feels a sense of urgency. Where no one sees the need to be with someone. Where no one sees the need for consistency, and respect, and the offering of time and intimacy because they aren’t pressed. Because everything and everyone is just another option and there may be someone better around the corner so I’m not going to be pressed about you or the next one or the next one. (I blame online dating)

I am well aware that I am not everyone’s cup of tea. Hell, I’m not most people’s cup of tea. Apparently I’m easy on the eyes but then slightly intolerable once you get to know me so there’s no need to be pressed. That’s okay. By all means take your unironed, unwrinkled, fluffy tail somewhere else. (Yes I did google antonyms for pressed) Find someone else who is also “not pressed” and y’all can engage in vague, undefined, inconsistent, random conversation for the rest of your unpressed lives.

Who knows, maybe I am the crazy one. Maybe somewhere along the line I developed a unrealistic definition of love and unhealthy expectations for what my love life would be like. Maybe my pressedness is what’s causing my singleness to thrive. Maybe I need to start practicing the art of the unpressed.

To end this rant, here is a unfinished list of all the things I am pressed about:

Love

Life

Finding a forever partner in crime

Turning 30 in 6 Days

Money

Buying Christmas presents that people will like

Whether or not my current job is the right fit

Why I’ve given up on weight loss and become content with that 20 lbs

What to wear for my last weekend in my 20’s celebration

Why I can’t figure out how to move out of my parents house

Whether or not I’m a good mother

Whether or not I’m just a terrible person who is incapable of healthy intimate relationships

Why I haven’t been able to find time to repurpose that dresser

If it snows this winter will I make it to work or will I get in another accident.

Love, I am pressed about love, giving it, finding it, wanting it, needing it, deserving it, fearing it, yearning for it, love. I am pressed about love and that’s ok.

(From the princess saves herself in this one by Amanda Lovelace)

What are you pressed about?

30 Reasons Why I’m Probably Still Single.

I will be 30 in two weeks. Minus a recent blip on the radar, I have spent the majority of my adult life single.

As 30 quickly approaches, and I enter another year of attempting to embrace my singleness, I have been trying to think of some logical reasons as to why I’m still single.

Here’s what I’ve got so far:

1. I didn’t forward quite a few of those chain letters in middle school that said do this or you will never find love.

2. I’m not a huge sports fan.

3. I’m too tall

4. I’m not an amazing dancer which makes me not appealing at clubs

5. Resting bitch face

6. My love of Harry Potter (this one I don’t understand)

7. Social awkwardness

8. I have been cursed

9. People get explosive diarrhea when they think about talking to me and therefore run to the bathroom. When they come out I’ve disappeared.

10. I am too good of a wing woman

11. I’m a super hero. My super power is scaring people away.

12. I blink really hard sometimes. It makes people think I’m crazy.

13. I’m a therapist. This scares people.

14. People realize how awesome I am. Realize they don’t deserve me. So they go find someone less awesome to love instead.

15. My cooking/baking is so amazing it causes them to fear that they will gain a bunch of weight being with me so they run (figuratively that is).

16. Mama ain’t raise no fool.

17. Neither did my dad.

18. The older I get, the lower my tolerance for bullshit becomes.

19. My hip to waist ratio is not correct.

20. I look bougie

21. I was meant to be a military wife. My entire childhood prepared me for it. I do not live near a military base.

22. I’m intimidating

23. The idea of meeting people scares me.

24. I have briefly met, fallen in loved, and planned weddings with so many people that God is just like “look here. You need to stop.”

25. I’m convinced most people are serial killers.

26. I am not ordering pizza at the right time, therefore the really hot pizza delivery man has not shown up at my house yet.

27. Luke Kuechly is just really nervous.

28. This is some sort of test. I am failing miserably.

29. My introverted nature makes me hate chit chat and small talk. These things appear to me integral parts of meeting people and getting to know them and making them fall in love.

30. Pretty sure it’s those stupid chain letters.

So…if you to are approaching an age where you never imagined you would still be single but alas here you are…what are the logical explanations you have come up with for this phenomenon?!?!

Knit With Love

I’ve gone back and forth in my head and heart about two things since “the breakup.” What to do with this damned scarf and what to title this blog post.

Options for the scarf:

Burn it

Unravel it in a fit of rage

Cut it into shreds

Hide it somewhere and pretend it never existed

Throw it in the trash

Send it with the most epic passive petty note ever written.

Finish it and donate it.

Don’t finish it and donate it.

Options for the title of this post:

What it’s actually titled or

Knit with (unrequited)Love

So first things first, I am well aware that knitting is about the most grandma hobby an almost 30 year old woman can have. Go ahead and get your jokes out of the way now. I’ve probably heard them all. I’m okay with it. While you’re laughing you should know that I thoroughly enjoy it. It’s therapeutic. And there’s just something about creating something out of nothing that gives me great satisfaction. It’s the same feeling I get whenever I grow a vegetable garden. “Look I made a thing!”

Long story short. Before I came to my senses and ended a terrible relationship that was sucking the life out of me, I was working on a scarf for the male counterpart in said relationship. I began this scarf despite his jokes about my knitting. I worked on the scarf despite him saying multiple times he would never wear it. I secretly wanted to finish the scarf in hopes of it being a way for him to see how much I cared and prayed that maybe, finally, he would believe it. I had a lot of hopes and dreams put into this scarf. Poor scarf!

About halfway through the making of the scarf the relationship ended. And then the question immediately presented itself. What to do with the scarf? I hid it in the compartment in my couch where I keep all my current knitting supplies. (Side note: if you’re reading this and wondering what to get me for my upcoming 30th birthday, some sort of knitting supply storage container or bag would be a lovely idea). I began and finished other projects. More than once I looked into the compartment and seriously considered unraveling the scarf. More than once I tried to throw it away. I tried to pretend the blasted scarf did not exist.

But, alas, the scarf is still here. But I have a plan. Thanks to an old friend who does great work every fall/winter collecting coats for the homeless people of Charlotte, this scarf will soon have a new home. I decided to just bind it off and send it away as is. Half finished, random hearts, spots that were planned for more patterns, and full of hopes, dreams and unrequited love.

But then…I still had the decision of what to name this post. I assumed there would always be a post about the scarf as soon as the decision to make a blog began. Knit with (unrequited)Love was always my go to title. Just seemed to fit. But then, as time has gone by, as my heart as healed, and as I have decided every thing happens for a reason and there is something to be learned from every seemingly terrible situation, I decided on the title we have. Knit With Love.

No matter what, this scarf was knit with love. Whether returned or not. I invested time, energy and a piece of myself into this scarf as I like to believe I do in all relationships, friendships and other areas of my life. Whether those things are returned or not I can not control. I can only decide to love. To love fully. To love completely. To love despite the times that it hasn’t been returned. I have decided not to let those moments of unrequited love ruin my outlook on life. I have decided not to become bitter. I have decided to learn from it and not let it ruin me. I have decided that if for the rest of my life I put out love and it is unrequited that at the end of it all I will not be mad that I loved without boundary and without fear. Okay there’s a little fear but that’s only normal.

So tomorrow the scarf will be handed off to my friend. Not completed but bound off with love. Filled with the hope that whoever receives it will, if even for a moment, feel loved.

The plan is to continue to knit things. Scarves. Fingerless gloves. Ear warmers. Etc. to donate next year, and for years to come or to give to people I like or love. Because even if it’s the lamest of all hobbies…there’s nothing wrong with knitting with love.

Oh, and Incase you didn’t know:

An Open Apology to my Future Partner…

Dear future partner,

I feel I have to apologize already and odds are I haven’t even met you. I apologize for the walls you are going to have to get through, as I feel myself building them even as I write this. It’s a protective measure. My soul, at this point, cannot handle the idea of someone not being you. And so the fortress is being built around my heart quicker than I can even try to tear it down. 
People always said this would happen. That I was one more bad heartbreak from giving up altogether. I don’t know if I’ve reached the absolute end of my rope yet. I still have a slight case of hope the bubbles up occasionally. But I feel it dwindling fast. And while I still have a slight grip on the rope, I can feel the frayed ends close by. I’m trying to hold on…but it’s hard. 
Here is a list of things I’m not sure of as it pertains to you: 

1. If you actually exist. 

2. If you will be willing to break through the barrier. 

3. What parts you’ll even come with now. 

4. If I’ll recognize you when you show up. 

5. If I deserve it anyways. 
So I don’t know where this is going. Maybe it’s less of an apology and more of a warning. I know it will be hard. I know it will be difficult. I know it might not seem worth it. I know you’ll consider walking away. 
I don’t know if this will go away. I don’t know how high the walls will grow. 
I know I feel as if you are getting a broken version of what you deserve. Of what was once there. Before I only felt cracked. These days I feel destroyed. It comes and goes. I know I should work on glueing myself together so that I can be whole whenever you do show up. I know I’ve started, but it’s a lot easier said than done. I know I shouldn’t be so concerned about your lack of presence and that I should “wait on Jesus.” 
I’m sorry for being broken. I’m sorry for being a mess. I’m sorry for trying to make all of these other people you, when they weren’t you, and so now I’m holding it against you. I’m sorry for apologizing so much. I’m sorry for the walls. I’m sorry. 
I can’t promise much. I promise it’ll be tough. I promise it’ll suck. I promise I will try to help you tear the walls down. I promise though, that if you succeed, I will love your fiercely and completely and with all my tiny broken pieces. 
I’m sorry for the rambling…

Hope

The soft silk of hope
Drapes my heart
Like fresh sheets on bare legs
wrapped in the scent of cautious optimism,
Like the subtle scent of your favorite detergent.
As the sunrises, reminders of new days and
New beginnings, fill your soul.
And just like how you forget and then remember how
the faintness of soft, clean fabric
feels like a breath of fresh air;
Gentle and coy,
Such is the first touch of fragile hope.

-LeAnna

Photo credit: David Mao