The Start of a Frolic-less Year (or I-shouldn’t-announce-my-resolutions-until-after-a-trial-period)

Well, I hate to say that I’ve made a few resolutions this year (because that is usually synonymous with “not gonna happen”), but old habits die hard. I kept the list of goals and wishes for improvement short, but concrete, and I’m hoping the brevity means I’ll keep to it. I’m specifically hoping to stick to my favorite, and most controversial (according to friends, coworkers, and the 76-year old man who overheard me telling the bartender at work about it) resolution: no men, no sex, no dating. For a year. Period. That’s right, I’m cutting myself off. To illustrate why, I’d like to share a little anecdote with you all:

I remember the first time I saw Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. My eyes stared wide and searching at the screen, memorizing every frame. My hands hurt from wringing together stressfully while watching Sam and Frodo fight their way up Mt. Doom.  And then, before I was ready, before I could even fully prepare myself, the screen went black. The theater erupted into applause-which was quickly stifled when the movie started up again. Ten minutes later, the screen

If Aragorn was around, I would probably have a harder time with this resolution. I mean, come on. Look at him.

If Aragorn was around, I would probably have a harder time with this resolution. I mean, come on. Look at him.

faded to black again. This time, the audience reached near delirium-only to be silenced by the continuation of the film. After the 87th false ending, I was starting to think- with some glee, I’ll admit- that the movie would never end. Every time the film started up again, I would think, “Oh, well, that’s true. We needed to see how that finished up.” I would accept that it was the end, have a few seconds of mourning, and then be swept back in for another few scenes, another few loose ties knotted together. Finally, the screen faded to a piercing white. We all sat with baited breath, waiting for what would happen next. And then…the credits rolled.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about endings. Leaving a job, a boyfriend, a bad habit in lieu of a better option, a better way of life. And I’ve realized that, more often than not, what you thought was “the end” is really just one of those Peter-Jackson-wants-to-screw-with-his-audience moments.

Such is the way of my love life.  As my exes tend to find ways to stay in my life  (due to running in the same circles, close proximity, and a variety of other nuances), it has been a struggle to find that elusive white screen for some of them. Even in this blog, I’ve written a goodbye post or two. And yet, here I am, writing about the same guys once again.

I think the more certain we are about things in life, the more we get thrown off balance.  And so, with the understanding that certainty in my decisions always causes me to falter in one way or another, I say this: No man shall see my bed. No morning, afternoon, or evening will be spent flirting over shared coffee cake and tea. No phone numbers will be exchanged, no sleep overs planned, no kisses that aren’t scripted shall grace these lips.  12 days down, 353 to go. Just because I’m counting doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it…right?


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