Showing posts with label endings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label endings. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Dear Grandfather

Photo of my Grandfather - taken this winter
Thanks everyone for the awesome comments on my recent dating posts and the encouraging words about going outside my dating requirements and dating the Short Australian. I hope to get back to some fun dating posts soon...

But sadly this weekend wasn't really about fun and dating. It was mostly about family. My grandfather passed away 2 weeks ago. And while he was old and it wasn't a tragedy, it is still sad. He was the center of our family in many ways. I worry that we will not see each other as often. It was nice to all get together this weekend. I enjoyed catching up with my cousins. I wish I could see them more. I wish we got together for happy occasions and not just when someone dies.

Anyway, this weekend I've been reflecting a lot on family and what it means. And I've been thinking a lot about my grandparents. They were hugely important and influential to me. They lived about 2 hours from us and they visited us often and we visited them often as well. My brother and I would spend a week or so each summer with them. They had an amazing house in Ipswich, MA looking out over the ocean. Some of my best and most vivid memories of my childhood take place in that house. I can still remember how each room smelled. I can remember where all the objects (collected from their numerous travels) were placed. I loved that house. And I loved my grandparents. And they loved us - and never ever forgot to tell us just how much they loved us.

They were great and amazing people. My uncle said it best: they were great role-models. For everyone. They did so much for their community, their church, their friends, their family. They were role models to me and to many around them. They touched so many people. When I think of the kind of person that I want to be, I want to be like them. I can't actually think of better people. It was not only their love for their loved ones that was inspiring but also their love for each other. They were married 62 years. And in a world full of broken relationships and broken vows, I always think of them as role models for the type of love I hope to have some day.

Their religion was important to them and their faith in God was very very strong. Their children and grandchildren do not share that faith, but as my cousin pointed out, that was to some extent, okay with them. They would have been happy if we had embraced God and religion (and certainly expressed a certain level of disappointed to our parents for not ever bringing us to church) but they didn't turn it into an issue. They loved us for who we were even if it wasn't exactly who they wanted us to be.

They always encouraged us to do great things and to be better people. They always supported us. They loved to hear of my travels. My grandmother loved to write and encouraged me to write. My grandmother emailed me every single week until she entered the hospital a couple months before she passed away. That was really special. I attribute my passion for traveling and for writing to my grandparents. They truly inspired and supported me in so many ways.

I'm sad they are now both gone. It's been a hard weekend. There are no words that can do justice to the relationship I had with them. There are so many amazing memories that I tried to write down but seemed trivial in black and white on a computer... maybe some day I will find a way to better express my life for them. Maybe some day, I will try to re-tell the great stories they told (my grandmother was a great story-teller and my grandfather and my uncles and father were great subjects - I fear those stories will be lost and I would like to write them in my own words drawing upon what my grandmother has already written - perhaps I will include some stories in this blog). But for now I will leave you with the words I spoke at the funeral on Saturday:


Dear Grandfather, Grampy, Grumpy Grampy, GG,

You are no longer with us but you and Grammy will always be here with us. You are in the taste of fresh summer raspberries. In the smell of mint leaves and roses. You are there with the birds that fly in the early morning light, in the call of a seagull, in the smell of freshly baked cookies, in the taste of a ginger snap.

You are there in our memories of long summer nights and lobster dinners, of games of Scrabble and cards, of trips to the library and to the beach. You are there in the memories of penny candy and magic bags, of ice cream and clams and feeding the birds on your porch in Ipswich. You are in the words ‘Gee Whiz’, you are there in my father’s smile, in the sound of the ocean in a seashell, and in the magic of Christmas.

You are there with us always in memories of the past, but you also with us here in the present. You are there in the heart of your children. You are there in the accomplishments of your grandchildren. You are there in the laughter of your great grandchildren. You are there in the loving memory of your friends. You were the center of our family. Of our universe. You will live on in our memory. You are always with us.

Dear Grampy. You taught us so much. You gave us so much. Your love for all of us was undeniable. And you never failed to tell us how much you loved us. Your love for us always shined so bright. We are all so blessed to have had you in our lives. We are all better people for it. There cannot be better grandparents, parents, great-grandparents. friends or neighbors than you and Grammy. Your love was everlasting. May we carry it with us. And may we be better people for having experienced your love.

Dear Grampy. You are now with Grammy and Uncle Bill. But please know that we love you - all of you. And we will miss you. Know that you are missed. And do not miss us. But watch over us and take care of  just as you have always done and as we know you always will.

Dear Grampy. You are no longer with us,but you are always with us. And your legacy lives on within us: your friends and family who are gathered here today not to mourn your passing but to celebrate the life of a great great man.

We love you Grandfather, Grampy, Grumpy Grampy, GG. We love you.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Standing Still

View Source
There was a night last fall when I found myself with colleagues standing in the middle of the Red Square at around 11:00 pm and all I could think about was going back to the hotel and sleeping. The next week I was in Rome standing in front of the Colliseum with a similiar thought. I was standing in the midst of some of the most historic places in the world and I was no longer thrilled. I was just tired. And that is when I knew I needed a break.

With this in mind, I took some actions that put forth a chain of events that caused me to move "home" to  Boston in late October. This has been just about the longest time I've been home in the US in 9 years.

I've been back in the US for almost 3 months now. And for the first time in a very long time, this International Woman of Mystery is standing still. Completely still. And I'm freaking out.*

And this stillness is making me crazy. I thought that standing still would be good for me, that taking a moment out of the jet-set madness that was my life would help me figure out who I am, what I'm doing and what I want to do next. I thought that moving back to the US would give me some answers as to what I want my life to be. I thought that stopping the non-stop travel and the long hours and the crazy work, would give me some perspective. I thought that maybe living in the place where I'm from and stopping the constant work-related travel would make it easier to meet men and form better friendships. I thought that for the first time in a long time, I could establish a routine and stick to it. I thought that standing still would be good for me, and in many ways it probably has been... But it has not been easy. I didn't think it would be easy.

But I didn't think it would be this hard.

At first it was exciting. It was like moving to a new country but with old familiarity. And there was all the logistics of finding a place, starting the job, getting settled. And that at least kept me very busy.  Now that the craziness of the move is over, and I've had time to take stock of my new world, it's suddenly starting to hit me. This is my life.

This is it. And it's lonely. There were days in the not so recent past that I would have killed for a few free seconds, for a three week period where I didn't have to fly somewhere, for a work day that started at 9 and ended at 6, for a day where people weren't lining up at my desk to ask me questions or get my advice, for a day when  I didn't have 9 hours of meetings scheduled.

And now I have time. Lots of time. Too much time. Too much time to be lonely. To think about the people I miss. Too much time to think. Too much time to realize that unfortunately, moving home didn't make me happy. Nor has it helped me to feel better about my life or about myself. Instead, I feel even more lost. I miss my friends. I miss living abroad. I miss my old job. I miss the travel. I miss the bustle and the flow and crazy pace of life. I miss being an expert at what I did. I miss having a team of people to manage. I miss being part of a different culture. I miss being different. I miss being international. I miss being a foreigner. I miss exploring and discovering new cities. I miss the excitement of new adventures around every corner. I miss the difficulty. I miss taking the path less take over the well-traveled and comfortable road. I miss the challenge.

I'm having trouble defining myself in this new world that is my life. The ways that I defined myself before - as an International person, as a hard-working person, as a well-liked and respected person at work who encouraged a lively office social scene. Those are now gone. I'm no longer international. I'm no longer working very hard. I'm no longer very important at my job. I no longer have a very big network. Some days I feel invisible. As if there is nothing tying me to this world right now. As if I could just float away, disappear and no one would notice.

At least when I was living abroad, even when things were not going well or I was feeling down, I always felt that I was doing cool/interesting/glamorous things. Being an American living abroad made me feel special. I was doing something different. Taking the road less traveled. And sometimes that thought alone was enough to get me through the day. 

But back home here, I no longer feel special. I mostly just feel invisible and lost. I feel underwhelmed and under-challenged. I was so used to life being a constant adventure. One long rollar coaster of crazy events in crazy places. And of course, I'm not going to lie, I sometimes wanted to get off. I definitely was curious to see what it would be like to stand on steady ground. And I'm glad I got to find out. But I really miss the excitement of the ride. More than I ever thought I would.

And when I lived abroad, when things got hard, I always told myself, well you can always "move home." And although I knew that moving home would be hard too, it always stood out in my mind as some kind of solution. Some kind of problem solver. Some kind of destination. Some kind of change that I could make that when I reached the end of all else, going home would be what was left and that would be ok.

But now I am home. And suddenly I realize that "home" is no longer home. And I feel like a foreigner in my own country. And I wonder where is "home?" And what is my next move? Where do I belong?

I don't regret moving back. I know it's what I needed at the time. I needed to stand still if for nothing else than to appreciate the ride when I get back on it. But I can already feel it... That same familiar feeling that has haunted me all these years -  my feet are getting restless and my heart is yearning for travel and adventure. I wonder how long I will actually stay here in Boston. I wonder what my next adventure will be. I wonder if things will get better here. Or if I will be off again too soon to find out.

I knew it would be hard. But I didn't ever think it would be this hard...

*I've been trying to write this blog post for almost 2 months now, but have been struggling to get it to try to convey the emotions that I'm feeling - I'm still not there but I wanted to post this before I took off for my first trip abroad since moving back. Weather permitting, I'm off on Thursday to London/Stockholm. The trip is bringing to head a lot of emotions and questions and fear and excitement and confusion. Since I've moved home, I've been struggling with the question - where do I belong? And where is home, if "home" no longer feels like home? And what do I do next? 

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Back 'Home'

So. I'm 'home.' I landed yesterday in Boston and am now at my parents in Western Massachusetts.

The last weeks have been tough. Full of anxiety, preparations, packing, worrying about things, turning off gas/electricity/Internet/water, canceling things, worrying about things, goodbye dinners and parties, lots  of sad goodbyes and lots of worrying about things.

It was difficult to say goodbye to friends and colleagues in London and Sweden. And throughout all the sad goodbyes. I did not cry. Some of my friends cried. Some of my colleagues even got a bit teary eyed. But I did not cry.

I did not even cry when I found out that the cost of shipping my stuff home would cost $1,000 more than what I budgeted (that's right it apparently costs a whopping $5,000 to 43 boxes of "six years of stuff" from London to the US).

I did not even cry when I found out I was loosing part of my security deposit on the crazy expensive London apartment for stupid reasons like a stain on a bedspread that I had professionally cleaned and then never used!

I did not even cry at the airport in Stockholm where I started to get this panicked feeling when I realized that after this plane ride, I had no more trips scheduled. I can't remember the last time that I had no trips (and no plane rides) scheduled. For the past 9 years, my crazy travel schedule has ruled my life. And I hated it. But I also loved it. At least life was never ever boring.

I did not even cry on the plane when I watched a movie with a scene filmed on King's Road right down from where my London apartment used to be and I at first felt that jolt of excitement and then extreme sadness when I realized that I no longer live there anymore.

I did not even cry when I got all the emails and texts from my colleagues who are in Dubai (where I would have been if I had not decided to switch jobs and countries) and having a blast celebrating a good end to our sales year.

I did not even cry when I arrived 'home' and felt this deep sense of loss and sorrow as I realized that perhaps my whole life is behind me and all the good things, the fun things, the things that make me me, the glamour of an international life, the nightclubs, the boys, the ridiculous drinks, the amazing international friends, the partying in different cities, the amazing friends around the world, that those things are now in my past and the future is a big lackluster unknown.

I did not even cry when today - on my first day home in the US - I got that familiar feeling of already wanting to get back on a plane and return to my 'home' abroad as that is where I feel that I belong... and then realizing that there is no more 'home' abroad. That I am here and here is now 'home' whether I belong here or not.

I didn't cry because I'm afraid if I started to cry, then the floodgates would be open I would never be able to stop crying. Because right now it seems there is more to be sad about than happy about. More to be worried about than to be content about. More to be anxious about than to look forward to.

Ahead of me is a mountain of 'stuff to do' like: find a car to buy, figure out how to finance the car, find an apartment, find a place to stay until I can start the lease on the apartment, read some books for work, fill out the customs forms to bring all my stuff into the country, pay the movers, figure out storage for all my stuff because it seems to be arriving before I will have an apartment, try to contact old friends, try to make new friends, figure out Internet dating in the US, find a man, start my new job.

But those are just tasks. They are practicals to take care of. They are not plans. They are not fun. They are the details of life but not the substance. 

I feel like I'm at the bottom of the mountain of  'stuff to do to get settled in' and I'm not sure what I will find when I get to the top of that mountain. And I'm so afraid that I'm going to look around, take in the view of 'my new stationary life' I'm not going to like what I see. That I'm not going to know who I am anymore when I'm stuck in the city of Boston and no longer a jet-set International Woman of Mystery.

There are so many unknowns right now and the control freak in me is completely freaking out.

Picture courtesy of webecoist.com

But this morning while driving with my father I saw a rainbow and this evening while running, I saw another one. I take this as a good sign. An omen. Two omens actually.

So, despite wanting to just cry, I am holding out a rainbow fueled hope (however small it may feel) that all the fun in my life is not in my past. That there somewhere in the future, good things are going to happen to me.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Things I'm looking forward to about moving home

So... Today is my last night in London. Can you believe it? Cuz I can't!

Feels very strange to be in my empty apartment (and very terrible to be sleeping in my bed without my memory foam mattress)! The movers came yesterday and packed up 6 years of stuff in 43 boxes. How did I manage to accumulate that much stuff? I have no idea. I guess it's on its way back to Boston now. It will meet me there in 6 - 8 weeks (I hope).

Today was the cleaning of my apartment. And tomorrow is the final check out (and please oh please let me get my 2,700 GBP security deposit back because I really need it to buy furniture in Boston).

It all feels so unreal.

Tonight The Company had a really nice dinner for me and we reminisced about the last 6 years and The President and VP said really nice things and we recalled lost of fond memories from back in the day when we were younger... (They also gave me some really nice gifts). It made me sad and nostalgic. It was hard. Tomorrow - the last day in the office - that will be hard too.

I'm not leaving The Company but I'm completely changing products/divisions/industries and although I know it's time for a change, I can't help but to feel sad about leaving my current product and all the great people I have worked with for the past 6 years.

And I'm surprised and humbled at all the nice things people have to say about working with me and that it truly feels like they might miss me as much as I will miss them.

I have to say - I hate goodbyes. As much as this has all been nice and sweet, I overwhelmingly feel like it is something to be endured and I keep wishing there was a fast forward button so I could get off this emotional rollar coaster I've been riding for far too long now. Above all, I'm determined not to cry. What's the point? I have to just look forward and move ahead. And hope that good things are waiting in my future.

Tomorrow I fly to Stockholm to hang out for a few days. Good friend J is getting married to S on Saturday (stay tuned for the final wedding blog post of the year) and I'm looking forward to that. And in general, I'm looking forward to catching up with the girls, participating in the Stockholm nightlife (Beware Berns - I'm going to kill it on Friday night), having fika, shopping at H&M, running in Hagerparken and generally soaking up as much Stockholm awesomeness as I can before leaving on a one way flight to Boston next Wednesday (sob).

So... I might go off the radar for a few days but am sure to catch up with you all soon when I'm back in the US!

In the meantime... here's the deal, I'm totally nervous and kind of dreading moving back to Boston - as you can see from many of my latest posts. But there are a few things that I'm secretly looking forward to.

So, I leave you with this small list:

Things I'm looking forward to about moving home:

Autumn in New England - Is there anything better than Autumn in New England? I don't think so actually! I have felt sad about missing New England Autumn every year. Autumn everywhere is kind of nice and special and gives you that cozy nostalgic feeling. But, every single Autumn that I've spent outside New England, I've been thoroughly disappointed. Because when it's Autumn - there is truly no place like home!*

Lobster and clam chowder - It will be nice to eat my favorite New England foods more often. As my Mother advised when I was very little: "Never eat lobster or clam chowder outside of New England unless you want to be very disappointed." I have to say that she was totally right. And the few times I made the mistake... I did regret it (unless it was imported from New England of course - for real, I've had Maine lobster in China).

The Red Sox, The Patriots, The Bruins, The Celtics - I'm not the world's biggest sports fan (i.e. I did not stay up to ridiculously late hours just to watch New England sports teams while living abroad. In fact, apart from my updates from my Father -a real sports enthusiast). And over the years I have become pretty out of touch with the world of New England sports. But I do kind of miss watching sports and I'm looking forward to being swept away by the sports enthusiasm of Boston. Go Pats!

Being closer to family - It will be nice to have my parents just 2 hours away and to get to see my grandfather more. I also hope to soon visit my cousin and her kids in Maine!

The countryside - London is a great city and the country is definitely accessible, but it doesn't feel like the countryside is in the city, the way it did in Stockholm. I've found myself desperately craving the countryside. It will be nice to be in Boston with a car and able to drive home to my parent's house or go up to New Hampshire or Maine when I need a quick countryside fix.

Reuniting with old friends - I don't have a big social group that I'm going back to in Boston. I've been away way too long. Most of my Boston friends have moved outside the city and are working on building their families. But there are a few people that have reached out to me and I'm looking forward to reconnecting with them. And I'm hoping they will become my new cast of characters in my blog - Sexy Single Friend C, Lovely couple L and P and SB - I'm looking at you! And for all you unsuspecting Bostonians who do not know me yet... all I can say is WATCH OUT!!! Boston here I come! Get ready for it!

Mexican food - I love Mexican food. But it's extremely difficult if not impossible to find it abroad. And never have I ever encountered a place abroad that does a decent burrito. Can't wait to eat some yummy Mexican. (drool)

Whole Foods and Trader Joes - These are the best stores ever! I absolutely love Whole Foods and Trader Joes is great as well. And although there was a Whole Foods in South Kensington, it wasn't very convenient to where I lived. Luckily, Whole Foods in Boston will be easily accessible by car (because yes, I will have a car).

Dunkin Donuts - I love their coffee. And there is just something about going through a drive through that makes me feel so American.

Salad Bars - I love me a good old "make your own salad" bar. I have never seen this concept in any other country. My office restaurant has a make your own salad bar and I can't wait to hit that!

American Gyms - I am so tired of the crowded, hot, small and windowless European gyms. I'm looking forward to the big, spacious and better equipped gyms in the US. And maybe if I'm lucky there will be some cute men there too!

Running on the Charles - Guess I'm trading the Thames for the Charles. But in terms of beauty, I think the Charles wins... Can't wait for lovely runs on the river!

Proximity to Latin America - I'm gonna miss Europe, but I am hoping to do a bit more traveling in Latin America and that is much easier from the US. And a long weekend in Miami wouldn't be too bad either!

The weather - Boston might not have the best weather in the world, but compared to London and Sweden it's pretty freaking fantastic! And as you drive everywhere in the US anyway, the weather becomes much less of a big deal. Say nothing of the fact that there is so much more light in the winter (although I guess that conversely means that there is so much less light in the summer).

*I'm pretty sure that Autumn doesn't need a capital at the beginning of it... But I'm too lazy to either look it up or go back and fix it. My blog. My rules. For me, Autumn has a capital A.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Things I'm Gonna Miss About Living In London

My apartment is all packed up and the movers are literally here as I speak write.

And although I will not be missing the weather or my crazy expensive rent, there are a lot of things that I will miss about London such as:

My apartment - My apartment was kind of awesome here. It's a two bedroom right in the heart of Chelsea and very warm and cozy. It's perfect actually other than the fact that there was no outdoor space. I am sad to leave it. I definitely could have lived here for longer.

Chelsea - I have LOVED living in Chelsea. And if I ever return to London, I will live here again. It's such a great place to live!

Running in Battersea Park - I live right across the bridge from Battersea Park and because I'm a bit fanatic about running, I have run there every week 3 - 5 times a week. Although sometimes it feels a bit small, and other times it feels a bit crowded, it is a pretty good park. I will especially miss running along the Thames at sunrise and sunset.

Sexy Single Friend A - Although we have known each other for a couple years, Sexy Single Friend A and I only became friends in London. But Damnit! I'm going to miss this girl. She is always good fun to hang out with and I wish her the best of luck with her new job and her new men man. Stay tuned for a guest post from her!

M and T - M and T are my favorite couple in the world. And for whatever reason, we have been following each other around the world. We met in Shanghai when we all lived there, but have managed to party together in Hong Kong, San Fran, Paris and Amsterdam. I don't think that I could have survived London without M and T. They are true friends and we have had many great adventures. And before I get all choked up again (I just said bye to them), I'm going to remind myself that I will see them very soon somewhere - I'm sure...

The Writer - I know. I only met him once. But boy got in my head! And I'm still thinking about him. And wishing that he didn't have a damn girlfriend! Ok, secretly I'm fantasizing about him breaking up with her and declaring his love for me and moving to Boston (or hell, I'll come back to London). But I'm kind of realizing that is not very realistic. But hey, a girl can dream!

Sexy British accents - While I didn't manage to score me a British guy while I was here, I do admit that I have a weakness for the accent. I regret that I'm not bringing some sexy British guy home with me!

The Eurostar - 2 hours by train to France! Can't beat that. Sadly, I only jumped at this opportunity once while here (a wild weekend with M and T) but still, I liked knowing that I could be in France in just two hours without having to fly.

The proximity to other European cities - London is so central it's easy to get anywhere (although I do passionately hate Heathrow Airport). I'm really going to miss taking weekend trips to Spain, France, Italy, Sweden...

Harrrod's - This is the best store in the WORLD! I love Harrod's. From it's amazing food department to the million pound pool table in the antique section it truly has an wide range of selection. It feels like a museum than a store. I could spend hours there.
  
Guy Fawks Day - "Remember remember the 5th of November..." This is a good holiday! I have no idea really what this holiday is about. But I remember there were lots of fireworks. And alcohol. Yes, lots of alcohol.

It's a big city - London is a big city. A vibrant city. Full of endless opportunities. I liked this. Unfortunately, I did not get to live it up here as much as I wanted to due to my long hours and heavy job-related travel.

It's a walking city - one of the things that surprised me most about London is just how walkable it is! You can literally walk through the whole city and have a very pleasant experience. I find Boston is not a great walking city... It's much more of a driving city (and kind of a hellish driving city at that - infamous for its one way roads that are randomly laid out in a severe lack of urban planning).

The nightlife - London has great nightlife! Even for a 30-something like me. I will miss the good old Valmont club that I frequented often. But also Kensington Roof Gardens, Amica... and various others.

The pub culture - As I mentioned before, I think the pub culture here is great and I love that each pub has its own special cozy character.

Free museums - I have to say that I didn't take London up this fantastic offer as much as I should have. The museums here are free and that's kind of awesome!

Byron Burgers - There is a restaurant here called Byron - it's a chain actually but a really really good one. And I seriously think that they might have the best burgers in the entire world! My colleagues and I would go there every Friday. So, if you are in London, be sure to have a Byron Burger. I recommend the Cheese Burger with gruyere and add portabello mushroom and avocado. Yum! (Drool).

Black Cabs - London Black Cabs are epic! They truly are the best in the world. So big and comfortable with seats for 5 people. And for the most part, the drivers are nice and friendly and have GPS so there is no driving around lost.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

One Week Left in London

There is one week left until I leave London.

And everyone keeps asking me how I feel? And I don't have a good answer. I'm trying not to feel at all.

Because I don't know what the future holds, I'm trying not to think about it. And I'm trying not to look backwards so I don't get caught up in sad (misplaced?) nostalgia.

I have one week left in London and I'm perfecting the art of living in the moment.

I'm trying not to freak out. I have done this before.

But leaving anywhere is hard. Even a place that you want to leave.

And moving is hard.

I did this one year ago. Packed up my things and had the movers come and take them to another country.

But yes, it's still hard. Every time it's hard.

I have one week left in London, and I'm thinking about packing. But I have yet to pack a thing.

Actually, the movers will do most of the packing. But there is probably some organization must be done from my side. I'm saving that until Monday. The movers come on Tuesday. I hope it can be done in one day.

And I'm thinking about leaving. Not just London, but Europe. About leaving my job. I'm trying not to panic. But it's totally not working.

I have one week left in London and I'm still thinking about the boy I met last weekend. Maybe I'm just focusing on him to fill up the void that 'trying not to think' about the move has left. Maybe. Or maybe he just got under my skin and I will never be the same. Maybe.

I hope that the weekend will be a distraction - from the stress of moving, from thoughts of him. Sexy Single Swedish friend H will come and visit. I will have a party. I will say goodbye to my small group of friends here.

This weekend, we will drink one last time at my apartment. Dance one last time at the nightclub Valmont.

I have one week left in London and then I'm going to Sweden for a wedding. And to say goodbye to friends there.

And then I have a one way flight to Boston. Then, I will leave Europe. Then, I will leave my international life.

And say hello to a new life. In the US. After 9 years abroad. I have no expectations. I have no idea what it will be like. I'm trying not to think about it. I'm trying not to feel at all.

And I'm panicking.

I have one week left in London...

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

A Breif Romantic Encounter in the English Countryside

This post was supposed to be about my weekend in the English countryside. It was supposed to provide a portrait of picturesque rural life. It was supposed to be about rolling hills and sheep. It was supposed to be about the quaint village and the quirky village people. It was supposed to be about the Cricket game and the afternoon tea and the after Cricket pints and party. It was supposed to be about the Sunday walk through the hills to the charming local pub where we had a Sunday roast in the garden. It was supposed to be about the fresh countryside air and the cool autumn weather.

All weekend I planned this post. I took pictures to include. I talked to the villagers and found out about their lives. I mentally noted interesting observations in anticipation of telling you all about it. And as I sit here at my computer ready to begin, I realize that post I was planning all weekend, is not the post I'm going to write.

And while the lovely British countryside will certainly serve as a romantic backdrop, I apologize that this post will not be about the rolling hills, the sheep, the Cricket, the pub, the villagers, the fresh air, nor will it be about the crisp autumn weather.

This post will be about a boy.

This weekend I feel in love and then lost in just 24 hours. 

But let me rewind and start at the beginning with Friday evening when M (of my favorite couple M and T) showed up at my apartment with French guy CC - a friend from our China days. Then Sexy Single friend A and her friend showed up and we did what we usually do at my apartment - have some pre party drinks, listen to music and get in the mood to go out!

CC was only in town for the weekend, so we were determined to show him the best England had to offer. The plan was to head out on the town  Friday night and then get up early on Saturday and head out to T's family village 2 hours outside of London where they were having the annual Cricket Game (I had attended last year and it was so much fun, I had begged to be invited back). So, on Friday night we headed to Kensington Roof Gardens and got our groove on, stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning.

Saturday morning came way too early and in a cruel manner with a relentless pounding headache and a nauseous stomach and an instant regret for that damn shot of tequila I had done (say nothing of the vodka, gin, wine - although my bets are still on the tequila).

Not even a Bloody Mary and a full English breakfast helped to improve my condition. In fact, as I struggled to keep the meal down, I came to the unfortunate conclusion that a big meal and a drink had only made it worse (whoever says hair of the dog is the best way to kill a hangover, is completely out of their mind).

Despite sleeping most of the way on the train to the countryside, I was still  not well upon arrival in the charming little rural village. The taxi ride from the train station almost did me in (rolling hills and winding roads are not so quite so charming when you're hungover). Luckily however, we did make it to T's quaint village cottage with our stomachs intact.

So, we are sitting and watching the Cricket game and I'm still concentrating on not throwing up, when slowly through the thick fog of my hangover, I become aware that there is a a rather attractive guy on the Cricket field. I ask M who he is and she informs me that he is a childhood friend of T's and unfortunately, he is taken (although sans girlfriend for the weekend). Well, that figures. I mentally cross him off my list of potential flirting partners for the weekend.

The boys come in from the Cricket field to take their turn at bat and I'm introduced to the cute boy. He is even cuter up close - not beautifully aloof in the Beautiful Swede way, but roguishly handsome in a rugged, disheveled, manly way. "I didn't think he would be your type," M would say later.

But up close, it was perhaps less the way he looked, and more the way he looked at me that commanded my attention... He gave me "the look." You know that one where he looks you up and down slowly starting at your shoes, noting the shape of your legs in your fall boots, taking in your blue autumn dress, momentarily lingering on your breasts and then looking right in your eyes as if he can see all the way through to your soul. And from that first "look" I went weak in the knees and I have to admit that I was a bit smitten. Reluctantly smitten. But yes, smitten.

And although I was still very aware that he was "unavailable," I concluded that there is nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting (especially if initiated by him), right? And I promise that I was only joking when discussing sleeping arrangements with M that I would offer to solve the crowded house sleeping arrangement problem by sleeping with him.

And I swear that I did not seek out this boy nor did I intentionally try to turn on the charm (believe me, I can be quite charming when I want to be) but it just so happened that after the Cricket game ended, we ended up standing at the Cricket Club bar together where he convinced me to drink a pint of lager (much to the loud protestations of my stomach and still pounding head) and then proceeded to engage me in a conversation that left me not only smitten, but absolutely fascinated.

You see, he is a former journalist turned (as yet unpublished) writer who is working on his first book. Therefore, I will now refer to him appropriately as "The Writer." And if his looks had been the interesting factor before, I quickly realized that his personality was even more attractive. As a person who is (obviously) interested in writing and dreams of writing a book some day, I of course had lots of questions for him about the book writing process. He patiently answered my questions and gave me some interesting insight into a writer's world.

And we talked a lot about reading (another passion of mine) and it was quickly obvious we had read many of the same books. To my delight, he even begrudgingly admitted to having read (for professional reasons of course) and kind of liked the entire Twilight series, despite not being able to relate to all the teenage girl angst and being slightly disappointed on Stephanie Myer's failure to "understand the male psych."

And the more he talked, the more interesting I found The Writer. And slowly, it began to dawn on me that chemistry aside, this guy was kind of sort of my "dream guy." He was witty, intelligent, interesting and full of life. Well traveled, well educated, athletic, and well rounded. The first guy I have met in a long time who I feel is multi-dimensional enough to match me on many levels.

Apparently our connection was noticed by others around because just minutes into our initial conversation, one of the old drunk villagers interrupted us by asking "Are you two married?" And The Writer looked into my eyes and therefore into my soul, and we both just laughed.

And his eyes - hazel specked with brown, and full of warmth and life... I had trouble looking into them because those eyes sucked me in and made it so hard to look away that the second I did I found myself longing to look back again.

But, if I wasn't smitten enough already, as the night went on and more pints were drunk, he somehow started singing to me in a wonderful singing voice Susanne and Famous Blue Raincoat - my two most favorite Leonard Cohen songs - and it was at that point that I just fell. Head over heels. Hard.

We continued to talk the entire night. I kept trying to pull myself away from him, but found myself completely unable. When he was not standing with me, I found myself searching for him and I found that he was more often than not looking at me as well. But I still considered him "off limits" and honestly there was no overt flirting going on, we did not touch each other and we did not stand too close to eachother or do anything else that would be considered inappropriate, although I can't deny the fact that I was by this point doing some serious "wishful thinking."

Ok please stop reading now if you are:*
a. My parents (although, mom we kind of already discussed this - I just left out the details - you don't really need to read them - dad, neither do you)
b. My colleagues
c. T (of M and T)
d. A person of strong morals who is going to judge me
e. A mean anonymous commenter

 So, the evening progressed and we finally had enough of drinking and dancing and we turned off the lights and music at the Cricket Club and headed back to the house to get some much needed rest.

And I'm not sure if it was the planets aligning or some cruel trick of fate, but suddenly it became clear that the only place for me to sleep (without doing some serious waking up and rearranging of people) was in the spare bed in the room that he was in. (I immediately regretted saying what I had said previously about the sleeping arrangements).

So, we both pretended that this was cool. And I was seriously questioning how cool it really was - engaged in an internal battle of feeling that maybe I should sleep on the floor somehwere else and really really wanting  to sleep in the room with him - to see where this night long charade would take us (because at this point, I really had no idea). But one thing was clear... it was all too easy. We had the perfect excuse to do what we wanted and it was up to us to choose the final outcome. And The Writer seemed ok with the proposed sleeping arrangement... so, we both went with it, although I'm sure his internal battle was even more intense than my own.

So everyone got into their pajamas and we all said goodnight and then The Writer and I closed the door to "our bedroom." And suddenly it was like the world started to spin and we just looked at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity. The sexual tension was on intensity overload, my heart was in my throat, I was weak in the knees, and I swear that the room was on fire. And as much as I told myself that I should walk over to my bed and just lay down and go to sleep, my legs refused to listen and with a mind of their own, they began to move in the other direction - toward him just as he was moving toward me. We met in the middle and he touched my arm and I swear that it there were not only sparks, it was a freaking electrical storm.

Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. And his response was the slowest most amazing kiss.

"You can't deny chemistry," he said and his fingers were like flames moving over my body.

Later though as the awkwardness set in, he did admit to feeling guilty (which was both weird and relieving all at once. Weird because well... do I need to go there? And relieving because if he didn't feel guilty, well it probably means he does this all the time. And no, I didn't get the feeling that he does). I mumbled something about what's done is done and regret is a pointless emotion. "You're right. I just need to put it in parenthesis," The Writer said.

The next morning came too quickly and when the rest of the house began stirring, we decided to get up and head our separate ways. The day was full of trivial conversation and longing glances exchanged across the room. I was oversensitive and over aware of his presence at all times. And when he was standing close to me, all I could think about was wanting to reach out and touch him and overwhelmed by the unfairness of the fact that it would be totally inappropriate to do so.

The closest we came to an intimate moment was on the way to the pub for Sunday brunch when we were both walking dogs on leashes and the leashes managed to wrap around each other in such a way that we were pulled together and forced into an awkward moment of closeness as we tried to untangle ourselves and the dogs. "This is how they met in The Lady and the Tramp," The Writer said...

And then it was time to say goodbye and head back to London in separate cars. We both climbed the stairs to "our bedroom" and gathered up our belongings. And then once again, we stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "I guess this is goodbye," he said. "Yes." I replied and then he took me in his arms and gave me one last lingering kiss full of sweet longing, regret and things that "could have been".

And in that moment before we reluctantly pulled ourselves apart, the bittersweet images of a life that almost was but would never be, played out in my mind - the cozy nights at home, the fun parties with friends, the trips around the world, the dancing in each other's arms, the beautiful rambunctious children that we would never have. And just as soon as the thoughts had entered my mind, they withdrew as quickly as his lips left mine as I guiltily remembered that this life is real and not a romantic English fairytale (or a chick lit novel), nor am I Elizabeth Bennet and he is surely not Mr. Darcy. We are just two people who shared a night who had no future outside this room in the English countryside.

And so, we left the room together as strangers. 

And finally, we endured a public parting - in front of other people and I swear they could all see the electricity sparking off our bodies as we touched and air kissed each other goodbye - one remorseful kiss on each cheek. And after saying goodbye to everyone else, when no one was looking, he blew me a kiss and walked off to his car, looking backward at me the whole way. And I felt an incredible sadness wash over me as I knew that I had just met an amazing guy who was absolutely not mine for the taking. An amazing guy who probably has an amazing girlfriend. An amazing guy, who I was never going to see again.

And I have to admit that I felt sad. It's now two days later and I still feel sad. And I've thought about him more than I want to admit. I'm struggling to deal with myself on this one. I've gotten used to not caring, not feeling. I've gotten used to meeting lots of shallow beautiful men who are more suited to one or two dates, to one kiss, to one night - they essentially mean nothing to me and leave no more imprint on me than the empty words posted about them in this blog. I've gotten used to meeting men with many good qualities but always in the beginning - usually in the very first encounter - I sense a strong "but" that I know can't be overcome, that I know makes that guy not right for me in the long run (if I'm honest with myself, even the Beautiful Swede was ruled out in the beginning by the "but" and deemed not suitable for long term potential).

But for the first time in a long time, I felt in The Writer a lingering potential, a beautiful possibility that I had not felt in a very long time (maybe ever).

But he is taken and I'm leaving London in less than 2 weeks, so this is the end of the story. The end of the British countryside romance. It began before it started. I loved and lost in just 24 hours (although it could certainly be said I never "had" in the first place).**

So, that's it. It's over (I keep having to tell myself this). It was awesome and bittersweet and confusing all at once. And now I'm left feeling empty and alone with a wonderful yet guilty memory and  the unrealistic romantic fantasies of a whirlwind romance that will never take place and the unmistakable longing that I will hear from him again.***

*And if you do continue reading, do so at your own risk and try not to judge me, or him and know that this post was one that I really struggled to write.

**I'm not that girl who "falls in 'love'" easily. Or at all. Or ever. In fact, I'm that girl who is not even sure she believes in love. I'm that girl who guys think are cold. And while I'm obviously exaggerating here when I say "love," I did fall for this guy. Hard. More than I ever fall for guys. And that kills me.

***We didn't exchange any contact details.

Monday, September 20, 2010

International Woman of Mystery: The Next Chapter

I am an International Woman of Mystery. The story of how I got here is told in 3 parts here in this blog:

If you have read my posts, you will see that there was nothing in my nature that encouraged my International pursuit. I was a small town girl who was never meant to leave the small town. I was the girl who cried the first day my mother tried to leave me at school The girl desperately homesick when I first moved to college. The girl who wanted to study abroad in high school but couldn't bare the thought of leaving my Mother. The girl who wanted to travel but never even went on a plane until I was 18. The girl who didn't even have a passport until I turned 20.

But there was some other driving force that propelled me toward the life of an International Woman of Mystery. And it's that's force that's been pushing me forward ever since.

I took the road less traveled. I said yes to opportunities when I wanted to say no. I chose to push my boundaries to the limits and I refused to accept my routine-loving homebody nature.

I chose adventure over stability. I threw caution to the wind and dived head in to each new challenge. I worked hard and played harder.

I struggled to adapt to different cultures. I struggled to fit in and make friends. I started my life over from scratch many times - each time reinventing myself into a slightly different and hopefully improved version.

And somewhere along the way, I traded in the small town girl identify for the international one. I adapted to it and I embraced it and being international started to define me. I fear that I am no longer very American and I definitely fear there is no way that I will fit back in as a small town girl.

But this is a fear that very soon I'm going to have to stand up and face.

Because... 

Drum roll please....

AFTER ALMOST YEARS ABROAD, THIS INTERNATIONAL
WOMAN OF MYSTERY IS MOVING BACK HOME!

Yes, that's right. I'm Boston bound in just 2 short weeks. The Company has decided to move me back (you didn't think I was leaving them too did you)?

And I'm panicking!

It's not so much leaving London that is making me sad. It's not that London isn't a great city - it is. It just wasn't for me right now and although I'm sure there are things about London I will miss, I'm not going to be sad to leave it.

And even leaving my current job isn't as sad as I thought it would be. While, I'm staying with The Company I'm switching industries and products and I'm going to do something completely different. And although I am sad to leave my current product after 6+ years, I'm also ready for a change and feel like the timing is right.

But the thing I'm really sad about is that I feel that I'm closing the door on Sweden. I could have just as easily (and probably more readily) moved back to Sweden. I feel like I left my heart in Stockholm. And I don't feel like I'm ready to move on. I would have been happy to move back, but the The Company offered me a great job in Boston that was way too good to pass up. 

Oh the irony of it all. When I moved to Stockholm, I was wishing I could live in Boston and now I'm moving to Boston and wishing I could live in Stockholm.

The prospect of this move is bringing so much anxiety and so many emotions to the surface. I'm nervous and scared and excited and reluctant all at once. But mostly I just have a lot of questions.

By moving back, am I accepting my small town fate? Does this mean that I will become my parents?

What if I move back and then never ever leave the US again? What if my international jet-set days are over?

And despite the fact that I haven't been that happy this past year, I totally recognize that I have a very charmed and often glamorous life. And I do love it (as well as hating it). And I'm afraid that moving back means that I'm trading in my glamorous life for a boring stable one. Will I still be the same fun person? Will my life continue to be an adventure?

What if I hate it when I get there? What if I realize that I'm no longer very American? What if I can't fit back in?

What about American men? Can I date guys who wear baggy jeans and baseball caps and listen to Dave
Mathews?

When I move back, am I still an International Woman of Mystery? Will I loose my identity? Do I need to change the name of my blog? Will I have anything interesting to blog about? Will you still return and follow me and read my posts?

Sunday, September 19, 2010

The Making of An International Woman of Mystery Part III: Europe

This post is about The Making of an International Woman of Mystery.

Making an International Woman of Mystery is not an easy job. And it's a long process. Therefore, this is a long story. To read Part I: The Early years, click here. To read Part II: Asia, click here.

So, The Company moved me back to Boston and I was happy. And I had some days off between the two jobs so I did what any normal person moving to a new place does: get a car, get an apartment, start to get settled.

And then I started my new job. And on my very first day, my new manager called me into his office. And I took one look at his face and I said "Oh no. You are going to ask me to move again, aren't you?" You see... I was starting to get to know The Company quite well by now, and I knew that "look." I had also been given a small hint that the job in Boston might not be a long term reality. In China, just as all my bags were packed and I was set to get on the plane to Boston, the President of our entire division emailed me and said "International Woman of Mystery, what do you think about Sweden?" And of course, I responded "Sweden sounds like a nice country but I prefer Boston. Thank you very much."

But that email tipped me off and as a result, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I was asked to move again. I just thought I might have a little more time...

So my manager said "We want you to move to Stockholm." And I said "No." And of course, as is The Company's procedure, he refused to take no for an answer and hinted that if I didn't accept the job in Stockholm, I would soon be jobless. So he says "Just fly to Stockholm and meet with the The President and see what you think." Well, who can refuse a free trip to Stockholm? Besides, I had many Swedish friends who I had been wanting to visit anyway.
 
Now, I must reveal that my The Company is in fact a Swedish company. So, I had spent the last 4 years working with Swedes and therefore had quite a few Swedish acquaintances and one really good friend JT who I worked with in both Boston and China. And while in China, JT's friends and family had come to visit and I got to know them a bit. And her friend F and I really hit it off. And I was a little bit involved with a Swedish man (a story I will NOT get into). And I had been thinking about going on a trip to Stockholm - perhaps at New Year's. But neither them nor I ever imagined that it was even a possibility that I might MOVE to Stockholm!
 
But somehow just two weeks later (less than a month after leaving China), I found myself on a plane to Stockholm for "a visit." JT had left China at the same time I had and was going to do a bit of a world tour before returning to Sweden, and she was not even back in the country when I visited, but luckily the Swedish man was there to welcome me.
 
And somehow The Company managed to convince me to move to Stockholm - mostly by going all out to show me a fabulous time during my visit and offering me a spot on the management team and a job totally awesome that I couldn't refuse.
 
And so just a little over a month after returning to Boston, I packed up again and left my apartment and car (and all my furniture - as my parents refused to pick it up less than two months after dropping it off) behind in Boston and I took of for Stockholm. And this trip that was initially meant to be 5 months, somehow turned into 5 years! But I'm getting ahead of myself.
 
While JT and friends were very surprised (pleasantly so) to find I was moving to Stockholm, they rolled out the red carpet and welcomed me with open arms and tried to make me feel at home. In fact, I realized later that I was very lucky indeed to have the foundations of a great friend group in place when I arrived. Being a foreigner in Stockholm can be very hard. Swedes are notoriously cold and not very open to meeting new people.* Most foreigners move to Stockholm for love and find it difficult to make friends. Over the years many foreign female "love refugees" struggling to find a friend group, have expressed to me their envy of my large and awesome group of friends.
 
But still, in the beginning it was hard. for me too - although hard to say just how hard because my perspective has shifted. I now look back through rose tinted lenses - colored by my amazing experiences and the positive people I have met over the years. It's difficult for me to see Stockholm as it was when I first arrived.
 
But, I do remember that my overwhelming memory of Stockholm when I first arrived is that it was DARK and cold. The winters in Stockholm are not actually as extreme as Boston (they don't get as cold) but they are very very long (while Boston is more short and intense). I had literally gone from laying out in the sun at my parent's pool right to the airport to get on the plane to Stockholm And when I arrived in Stockholm, I was shocked to find that already in early September it was winter. I had packed a suitcase full of summer/autumn clothes expecting Stockholm to have the same warm autumn as Boston. I realized right away that was a big mistake! The first thing I did was go to the store and buy a scarf and a winter jacket!

Living in Stockholm was not easy. It was not like China where the cultural differences are so huge that it made it ok to just do your thing and not really attempt to adapt to the culture. In China, I expected not to fit in. I felt comfortable with my "foreignness." But in Sweden there were so many subtle differences that took me years to learn.

There were just so many small things to master like eating the European way with fork and knife remaining in each hand (not the switching hands shovel-food-in-your-mouth American way), or learning to be humble and to lower my loud American voice, or respecting the very strict rules regarding doing your laundry in the communal apartment laundry machines (seriously, the laundry room is a big source of contention often resulting in huge shouting matches between neighbors), or understanding that if you do not get to the liquor store between 10 and 15:00 on Saturday, that you will not have any alcohol for the weekend (so you had better make it a point to schedule this in), or making sure to always take off my shoes when entering someones home, or bringing my own alcohol with me to a party, or bringing my own bedsheets and towels with me when I'm going to spend the night at a friend's house, or realizing that it's a compliment when your friend buys the exact same dress as you and that if you and 3 of your friends end up wearing the same black H&M dress on the same night, well that's perfectly fine!

But I guess I did ok with mastering some of the subtleties. My friend's mom recently commented that when I first arrived in Sweden I seemed "so American" but now I seem "so Swedish."
 
While in Stockholm, I truly became an International Woman of Mystery. Sweden was country number 4 for me (5 if you count the US). And in addition to living internationally, my job required a lot of international travel (which I swear sounds a lot more fun than it really is). I traveled for work to such places as: Budapest, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Malta, Miami, Madrid, Barcelona, Milan, Rome, London, Cambridge, Shanghai, Beijing, Bangkok, Paris...

I even had a very crazy 2 years when I first moved to Stockholm where I actually SPLIT MY TIME between Shanghai and Stockholm and had apartments in both places. This was due to my working situation at that time which caused me to need to be constantly back-and-forth, and truthfully I didn't mind because I had the Scottish boy in China and my friends in Sweden and a great job that just happened to be in both places. But eventually I got tired of spending my weekends on airplanes and all the traveling back and forth eventually wore me out. But then my job changed so I started to spend the majority of my time in Sweden (with lots of travel to other places for work of course).

And the longer I stayed in the cold dark cozy city of Stockholm, the more I really started to love it! My girl group expanded from 3 friends to around 10 close friends plus at least 10 other friends who I would regularly go out with. The girls and I partied in Gotland every summer for Stockholm's veckan. We got together on most weekends and often during the week. We went to Latvia together for my 30th birthday. They became great friends to me that I know I will have for life. I got over the fact that eating out at restaurants was not that much fun (and way too expensive) and started to love having people over for dinner or a pre-party or going to another friend's house. I even got into the Eurovision song contest and from time to time would find myself dancing to schlager music without totally hating it. I started to prefer Euro Dance music to hip hop and even learned to dance properly to it. I had a great very central apartment in the city where I hosted lots of epic parties (much to the dismay of my neighbors). I learned to embrace the darkness and light lots of candles to make your home cozy and warm during the winter. I partied at the nightclubs Cafe Opera and Berns. I participated in the fun Friday "after work" culture (in the US I think we call it Happy Hour). I totally loved traditional Swedish foods like herring, salmon, toast skagen, Calle's caviar, pepparkaka. I always felt welcomed home when arriving at Arlanda airport and breathing in the wonderful scent of kanelbulle. I celebrated the long summer days by staying out all night long. I learned to appreciate the cold Baltic sea after a long hot sauna (even in the winter). I never ceased being amused by the Swedish dinner drinking and singing culture, but I learned to sing along to the popular snaps songs. My favorite holiday is now Midsommer (I would trade Thanksgiving for it any old day).

But because I had moved to Stockholm at the whim of The Company and not at my own whim... And because when I moved to Stockholm, I really wanted to live in Boston. And because I had been living abroad for a long time and was a bit curious about what life in the US would be like... Moving back to the US absolutely remained an open question in my mind and therefore I never felt completely settled in Stockholm. I always felt that I was "about to leave". But it never seemed like the right time. I sometimes felt that I was waiting for some kind of clear sign that it was time to go home. But it never came. I would go home and visit (with the increasing sense over the years that I fit into American life less and less) but I was always very glad to return to Stockholm. After awhile, I even stopped being homesick for the US. Without even realizing it, Sweden had become my home.
 
And then I turned 30 and I started to panic a little bit about my life. 30 is kind of a benchmark isn't it? I mean you start looking back at your life and wondering if it measures up. If you are where you are supposed to be and doing what you are supposed to be doing. Was this international life in Stockholm the life for me? Would it be better if I moved back to the US? Would my career be better? Would I earn more money? Would I be happier? Would I have found the "man of my dreams?" Should I move back and find out? Or do I want to stay in Stockholm forever? And is that even a possibility?

And while up to that point, my international life had been super fabulous and I had no regrets, I realized that maybe there were other things I wanted to do too. And although I always saw myself as an International person, I suppose that I also saw myself as a person who might one day get married and have children. And I sort of began to realize that my exciting international lifestyle wasn't really conducive to a "family life" and if that was something I wanted, I might need to make some changes.

Eventually I managed to calm those thoughts and started to lean toward staying in Stockholm on a more permanent basis. I began to realize that I had a pretty great life right where I was: I was dating the Beautiful Swede, I had a great job, I had great friends...

And of course it was at just this time that The Company announced that we were moving to London.
 
There was no other choice - the announcement coincided with the worst job market in recent history. It was London or bust.
 
So, one year ago, I moved to London.**

And although it wasn't exactly what I wanted to do, I tried to take on London and see it as my next new challenge. I oft a fabulous apartment in the fantastic neighborhood of Chelsea. I drank pints at the pub after work on Fridays. I ran a lot in  Battersea Park. I embraced the London clubbing nightlife. I hosted a pub crawl. I went to trendy restaurants. I saw musicals. I loved shopping at Harrod's. I jogged along the Thames. I paid my council tax. I marveled at the amazing cars lining the Chelsea streets. I ate fish and chips. I became addicted to Byron Burgers. I went partied on drunken boat trips on the Thames. I tried to date British men. I started to use British words more than the American ones (it was just easier). I went out to the countryside. I watched a Cricket game. I had Sunday roast at the pub. I drank buck's fizz. I ate full English breakfasts. I got well acquainted with Heathrow...
 
But I confess that I have not been very happy this year. Not in my job and not in my personal life. And although I have done many great and interesting things this year, my overwhelming feeling is that I spent too much time working too hard and getting too little out of it, too much time feeling homesick for Sweden (and missing the Beautiful Swede) and feeling lonely without my large group of friends, and too much time feeling that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time (a feeling I had never experienced so intensely before). So, I decided it was time for a change.

This is the final installment of "The Making of An International Woman of Mystery." Thanks for reading my wordy story. Please stay tuned for "The Next Chapter" where I reveal to you what's happening next in my life. Big changes are once again on the horizon for this International Woman.

*I have to say that this was not my experience in the least. I found Swedes to be warm and open and welcoming. But my foreign acquaintances had a different story. But again, I had that initial friend group that really helped me settle in. I will say one thing about Swedes though, once you break down the initial barriers and get to know them, they will be your friends for life.

**My blog begins in February although I briefly look back to December and January so this this blog actually captures most of my year in London - although not the painful few first months

Monday, September 6, 2010

When your Ex Gets Engaged Before You

Warning to my readers: This is a long emotional ex-relationship rant which is something I felt I had to get out of my system. I will not be offended if you decide to skip this. But if you have ever had your heart broken or had a relationship where you loved someone and hated them equally passionately or hdd a break up where you never received any closure and found it hard to move on... well, maybe you will enjoy my story. I certainly feel better after writing it all down. Hopefully now it will make it easier to forget and move on.

The day he walked through the elevator door and grinned at me with that mischievous grin and those stupid stupid braids, I knew that life as I knew it was over. I would never be the same. My life was forever altered. It sounds dramatic right? It was.

Perhaps it was one of the single most dramatic moments in my life. Believe me, I wish that I could say otherwise.

Technically, the first time I spoke to him on the phone... I knew. His voice. So perfect with his posh British accent... Later, I would find I could listen to him for hours. It's cheesy, I know but he literally had me at "hello." Oh man. I should have known then that I was done for. I should have hung up right away and told him the deal was off that it was all a mistake. That he absolutely did not have a job working anywhere in the vicinity of me. Or maybe I should have fled the country immediately. Unfortunately, I didn't... And 7 (almost 8) years later, I still think about him way more often than I want to admit.

It was my second week living in China. My job required me to train teachers that someone else had hired. I had a group of 5 people to train. One of them was the Scottish Boy who somehow managed to miss the group training due to a previously scheduled vacation.. He needed to reschedule a special training time with me. On the weekend. I agreed. I would learn later that with him it was always an exception. He was above rules or "normality." He could charm anyone and therefore pretty much get away with anything.

After several phone calls apologizing for being several hours late, the Scottish boy finally managed to arrive at the office - disheveled and hungover - or possibly still drunk as I learned later. He stumbled out of the elevator wearing a maroon shirt and tan trousers (as he called fondly them) - an outfit I would come to later despise and attempt to hide from him so he could not wear it anymore. His terrible clothing later became a source of contention between us.

So, we got on with the training and began working together. I don't know if was the tan trousers, the stupid braids in his hair, the mischievous smile, or more likely his charming voice, but I found myself falling hard for the Scottish Boy and we soon found ourselves in a relationship.

The Scottish Boy challenged me in ways I had never been challenged. He was intellectually superior and could drink me under the table. When we went on vacation, he would print an article that he felt I should read, then we would debate the article - of course he always won the argument and usually manage to make me feel inadequate. He challenged me to read more and to develop articulate opinions about the world. He would throw away my gossip magazines and replace them with the Economist. He mildly tolerated my love for crime novels but encouraged me to alter them with non-fiction.

I was in awe of him. He spoke fluent Mandarin and in addition to his teaching job, had many business ventures on the side. His goal was to be a self-made millionaire by the time he turned 30. I have no idea if he achieved this or not but I never doubted that he would do it. His affluent background and privileged life was reflected in both his accent and his boarding school stories. His mother is to this day one of the most intimidating women I have ever met. I think he found her to be so as well and this most likely shaped him in ways that I will never understand.

And he was fun! Hanging out with him was always an adventure. I never to this day have met someone who could challenge me on so many levels. Some nights during the time we lived together we would blast house music and drink the better part of a bottle of vodka (usually waking up surprised at 9 am to find the music still blaring and all the lights still on) and other nights we would curls up in bed reading and talking about the state of the world.

When asked about him, I describe him as "the person you want to sit next to at a table" or "the coolest person in the room." He was literally the guy that boys wanted to be and girls wanted to be with. He was always the center of the room, the center of the group. The undisputed leader. 

His Braids were like this
I guess it was his charisma that really made him stand out, although I later came to believe it was the way he managed to subtly manipulate people. Looks-wise, he is probably average: tall dark and attractive but certainly not conventionally handsome. His fashion sense was disastrous. As I previously alluded to, he wore his hair in terrible braids (think Chris Cross as in 'Chriss Cross will make you jump jump' - the irony of this was lost on him as he was way too cool to know who Chris Cross was). His mother finally convinced him (actually, I think she paid him) to cut off the braids (despite my begging, I could never get him to do it for me) and his appearance generally improved as a result, but he tended to wear a baseball cap to cover his prematurely greying hair. The baseball cap was unfortunately another source of contention between us since he tended to favor a Yankees cap over one of the many Boston Red Sox hats I gave him over the years which he claimed to loose. Hello, I'm from Massachusetts! In my part of the world 'Yankees Suck.' and you do not wear Yankee hats unless you are looking for trouble. Unfortunately, he knew this and wore the Yankees Cap just to spite me. Cuz that's how he was.

He was hot and cold. Sometimes the sweetest lover under the sun showering me with "cuddles and kisses". Sometimes the coldest person I knew angrily pushing me out of bed for breathing too loud whole asleep or when awake purposefully criticizing me and saying hurtful things to make me feel insecure. I learned that if I asked for something, he would probably deny me, but if I wished for something silently, that he would understand and usually do it. I found that rather than trying to directly influence his fashion choices, that if I really wanted him to wear something, then it was better to crumple it up and throw it on the floor of the bedroom and then he would most likely choose that outfit out of pure laziness (see I found ways to manipulate him too) but if I were to suggest that he wear a shirt that I liked, then he would flat out refuse.

He claimed that he didn't believe in emotions. He pretended not to have any. He learned this from his mother he said. He encouraged me to think logically and not with my heart - no good will come of that he said. He always tried to give off an appearance of being extremely tough. But it always seemed to me that his emotions were so close to the surface. In fact looking back, I sometimes believe that he was the most emotional guy I ever dated.

I was living in China on a permanent basis for a year and a half. We dated the entire time. When I was leaving, I was actually glad to leave him. I thought we were done. I wanted something different and I was tired of how he treated me. And to this day, I swear that if the boy "with no emotions" hadn't broke down and cried his eyes out the morning I was leaving, I honestly think that I might have left China and left him behind (just as I had with all the other boys). But when he cried... I was done. It broke my heart or perhaps it opened my heart to be broken again and again by him over the next years. But it was that moment when I left him the first time when I fell for him so hard.

Other than his terrible clothing,. the Yankees cap and the fact that after a year and a half together living in China, I moved to Sweden (although was often in China) and our relationship was logistically challenged by distance, our other major source of contention was his friends. Or to put it more precisely "how we got along as a couple in social scenarios." It's probably pretty obvious to you by now, he totally called the shots in our relationship. Early on, my friends were deemed more or less unacceptable (And truth be told, I didn't have that many friends in China so this was less of a big deal than it may sound). So, his friends were our focus. And according to him, they didn't like me.

So, what is a girl to do when her boyfriend's friends do not like her? Well... I will tell you what I did. I felt AWKWARD around them all the time! And this resulted in me acting funny and making everyone like me even less. But what could I do? If I was acting happy and confident, the Scottish Boy would tell me to stop being such an ego manic (he loved to us that word to describe me and others around him while ironically it was him that was probably the most egocentric of us all) and trying to draw all the attention to myself.

 If I was quiet and reserved and trying to keep a low-profile, I was accused of 'sulking' and ruining his happy mood. I couldn't win with him! And the more I tried to fit in, the more awkward and left out I felt. It didn't help that most of the time he intentionally didn't invite me along with his friends since he claimed "they don't like hanging out with you." So, when I was actually invited along, I was completely nervous.

It wasn't just that his friends didn't like me, it was like we had problems existing together in social situations. Looking back, I think it's because both of us were so used to being the center of attention, the leaders of the group. It was difficult for us to figure out how to work a room together when we both were fighting for the same seat at the table. We couldn't seem to put aside our strong personalities at all to give the other person a enough space to exist. He needed to be in control of all situations at all times and I also am used to being in the driver's seat. This constant power struggle was a continuous source of drama throughout our relationship.

Our relationship was volatile and hurtful and devastating. It was like continuously having your heart broken and continuously getting back together. The fatal yet addictive make up and break up cycle that is so beautiful and painful all at once (C'mon you know what I'm talking about). Our relationship lasted four years off and on. Hurting each other, getting back together, other people in between, sometimes other people at the same time, trying to make a relationship work between continents. Trying to make something work that we probably never meant to me.

He made me so upset at times that I couldn't eat. At one point, I lost so much weight that my hair started to fall out. I felt incredibly insecure all the time and got into destructive patterns of dating lots of men while apart from him, just to show that I could. Just to pretend that I was in control. To be sure that if he was dating other women, I was definitely dating more men. It was so destructive. I'm a smart girl. I knew that then as I know that now. But I couldn't stop it. His hold over me was too strong.


Whenever I hear the popular song of the moment "Love the Way You Lie" by Rhinna and Eminem or watch  watch that amazing video, I think of the Scottish Boy. He wasn't physical with me (although sometimes I felt that the relationship could have headed down that ugly path), but similar emotions were there. With him it was always so passionate that it was unhealthy. I knew it was unhealthy but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving him. I loved him as much as I hated him.

Anyway, our relationship went on and on and on until one day just he cut me off cold. One minute we were talking about figuring out a way to live together possibly by moving to a neutral place like Hong Kong (yes, if he had just said the word, I would have jumped oceans for him). And one day he stopped answering his phone, writing to me on messenger and emailing me. Yes. It was that sudden. And I was devastated.

I found out later through reluctant friends that he had begun to date this Billionaire's daughter - let's call her BD. BD was someone he went to school with. She was also someone who would visit him over the years when I was living in Sweden for part of the time. She only tended to visit when I was not living with him in China and I always found this odd although he assured me that he was not romantically interested in her in anyway claiming that she was "too old and too ugly for him." Ladies... lessons learned. Trust your instincts with your man!

The thing is that the Scottish Boy revealed himself to be a bit of a Gold Digger. Every time we broke up (or I left China for a lengthy period of time), he tended to date some rich Chinese girl. It generally seemed that he was fascinated by wealth - it was obvious to me that money was very important to him and he often hinted that my economic background (which he actually knew nothing about) was not good enough for him. So, I guess it shouldn't have come as such a surprise that he is now engaged to an heiress.

Sadly, it has taken me years to get over him.  Without any explanation. Without any good-bye... He just up and left my life and I found it hard to move on with no closure. From what I could tell, there was no real change in how we felt about each other. If anything, our relationship improved and matured over the years (we even sort of figured out how to interact socially together and his friends eventually tolerated if not accepted me). There was no final fight or argument.

The major breaking point was the fact that my job no longer required me to be in China as often. It meant if we wanted to make the relationship continue to work, there needed to be more commitment from his side. And obviously, he wasn't up for it. Unfortunately, he wasn't up for telling me that that either. Of course there were small subtle signs and signals that I should have paid more attention to. But I was a girl in love so I ignoring the small signs and telling myself that he felt the same way. Yes, I look back now and realize that I was deliberately fooling myself. He did drop small hints but in my defense, not once did he say to me "I no longer want to be with you. This relationship is over. I'm moving on." Hearing those words would have devastated me (he knew this and obviously didn't want to deal with my tears).  But perhaps they would have helped me to move on sooner.

Isn't it interesting that a boy who tried to be so strong, to show no emotions was actually a big COWARD? Too afraid of his own emotions to deal with a difficult situation. It was easier for him to just cut me off completely. And so he did.

I'm finally in a place where my heart doesn't stop and my stomach doesn't drop when I hear his name or come across an old picture. Even the news of his engagement didn't throw me too much (although it is obviously inspiring me to write this super long and emotional blog). I haven't spoken to him since 2007 so there is the whole time healing factor which helps as well. But actually, the thing is, that as much as I loved him and was totally in awe of him, deep dark down in a place I didn't want to admit out loud, I knew that there was perhaps more bad in relationship than good. And therefore, as much as I tried to envision it, I could never see us getting engaged - this fact also makes the news of his engagement hurt less. I knew it was never meant to be me and him.

I guess at the end of the day, I always believed more in myself then I believed in him. Although I let him hurt me again and again over the years, I truly believed and still believe that there was someone out there who is better for me than he was... Someone as fun and as smart and as dynamic as the Scottish Boy but also someone who made me feel confident and secure, who wanted me to be friends with his friends, who didn't kick me out of bed for breathing loud, who would call me every night, who would put in effort to make it work even if it meant crossing oceans and dealing with complicated logistics. Oh and hopefully someone with a better fashion sense. (A girl can dream right)?

Unfortunately, I still have not met this person. And unfortunately, the Scottish Boy is still the measuring stick that I hold up every man to and so far, every man just fails - miserably. But I still am trying to believe that "Mr. Right" is out there for me. And even if he's not, I know deep down that the Scottish Boy was not him.

Actually, what I'm really shocked about is the fact that he got engaged before me! I never in a million years would have imagined this. I was the one who wanted a stable relationship, the house, the kids... He was the one who wanted to make money and travel. He always claimed that some day when he settled down it would be with a younger, stupid woman who was more arm candy than anything else.*

But since I'm being very honest here, I have to also admit that it always felt like he was the "one who got away." Of course I entertained the idea that just maybe someday we would both meet again someday when we were mature adults and could figure out a way to live in the same place and treat each other with mutual respect and take another shot at a relationship together. What can I say? I'm a ridiculous, romantic girl. Forgive me. But with this announcement of his engagement, I realize that door is now closed. Probably locked. And you know what? I think I'm ok with that? I think I'm ready to let him go once and for all.

Writing is my release. It's cathartic. It's as if I can write it down, then I can leave it alone because it's there on paper somewhere and therefore, I can stop playing it again and again in my head.

With this blog post I release you Scottish Boy. I can honestly say that I hope you have love and happiness in your life. I hope that you have matured and found yourself in a better place. I wish you the best of luck with BD. Goodbye.

I strongly believe that everything happens for a reason. If I had not met the Scottish Boy, I would not have met my great friends M and T and The Lady.** Yes, these are those same friends who the Scottish Boy told me did not like me. Ironically, it is his friends who did not like me that I maintain a close friendship with and it is the Scottish Boy who I no longer speak to! Funny how life works. And for those of you who follow my blog, you might recognize M and T as the couple I frequently hang out with in London. The couple who I have partied with in many cities all over the world. People I consider true friends and who got me through a rough move in London.*** So, if nothing else, thank you Scottish Boy for introducing me to great friends who are here for me even when you have long left the scene.

*By all accounts BD is a smart and tough cookie although not completely well received by our mutual friends (or at least that's what they tell me). And she's older than him. And lookswise... well, no comment (yes, of course I checked her out on Facebook - but not obsessively I swear just through pictures others posted). Anyway, by all accounts it sounds like she gives him a run for his money (ha ha).

**M - you are the best! And you know I'm glad that you told me he was engaged in the way that you did. I would rather have heard it from you than from someone else. And I promise that even thought I'm writing this super long blog rant, that I'm not that upset about it. I'm only loosing a small amount of sleep over it. JK. And in case anyone is wondering, M and T are still friends with the Scottish Boy and see him often but it's not awkward at all between all of us as they handle it well and we do not often talk about him (doesn't hurt that the Scottish Boy still lives in China).

***Despite the Scottish Boy's best attempts to keep his friends and me from becoming friends, we eventually managed to discover that we did actually like each other. In fact, I later learned that he not only told me they didn't like me, he told them I didn't like them! No wonder it was all so difficult. Thank God we managed to resolve that!