MaryB and the City

Single and the City.

Not gonna lie. I’m having a little freak-out about the upcoming move [in t-minus six days]. Yes, I’m counting.

“Freak-out” is subjective and I don’t mean to overdramatize this…but the magnitude with regards to what is changing undoubtedly overwhelms me.

I knew a relocation transition was coming due to where we are in our long term, long distance courtship, but at the same time, it is one thing to process it as a concept but a whole other ordeal when it actually becomes reality.

Mr. Big has moved out of town, and state, four times during our relationship; it is practically second nature to him. But for me, I’ve been living in the same city for 14 years. My college career, entire twenties, and early thirties were born and raised here. Many of my closest girlfriends are a short drive away; we can meet for an emergency happy hour at a moment’s notice. There is comfort, memories, and history on every cobblestone street and uneven sidewalk throughout the area that I’ve called home for a long time.

Although I’ve had numerous roommates over the last decade, including the present moment, I’ve [intentionally] never lived with a signifcant other before. Instead, I’ve experienced the taking turns sleepover routine ~ then going back to my own space until the next visit.

I’m a little scared.

Scared that we won’t be peaceful, compatible living companions. That we will get on each other’s last nerve. That we might feel suffocated or claustrophobic. That the limited cohabitation closet space will interfere with our poetic shopaholic syndromes.

The truth is, I feel quite confident that none of those issues will happen based on how well we know each other & the sheer number of hours we’ve spent together, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a scoach of fear for the unknown possibilities.

I’ve been completely independent since earning an undergraduate degree. My bills, cars, clothes, rent, and food have been entirely paid for due to my own efforts. I come and go as I please. I watch what I want to watch on TV and am in a committed relationship with my DVR. I don’t have to ask for permission - for anything. I don’t check-in on purchases with anyone other than my checkbook.

Really this all comes down to letting go of my single self and shifting to a new dynamic [duo]. It’s a positive change and exactly where I wanted to be, sharing my life with the person I love.

But modification is never easy, particularly when it comes in an oversized package.

I’ll spend the next week packing up belongings, reminiscing on all of the wonderful moments shared in the River City, saying so long to my sidekicks who have been the greatest support system in my life, attempting to downsize stuff to share space with my future life partner.

And, all the while, preparing to close the book of my bachelorette days, and open the sequel: Shacked up and the [new] City.

Three’s company.

They say good things come in sets of three. Evidently, that is the case for me at the moment.

1. I’m moving to Baltimore!
2. I’m starting a new job!!
3. I’m going to live with Mr. Big for the first time in our relationship’s history!!!

Although we’ve been talking about our future for quite some time, somehow these tangible changes seem…well, sudden.

I helped him find and decide on the quaint row house in an absolutely adorable historic neighborhood a block away from the harbor, thoughtfully plotting out where all of my stilettos will be stored. I have mentally sized up my furniture inventory and assigned which pieces will come with me and which will go up for sale. I’ve answered many questions from friends and family about logistics and terms of condition to make the relocation. I have, for all intensive purposes, gone through the normal check list that comes with the territory shift.

But yet my head is spinning strictly based on the sheer amount of change; it’s a lot of moving parts at once.

1. Central Virginia has been my homebase for 14 years [even putting that in writing doesn’t compute in my brain].
2. My current gig is super slammed, and from what I gather, the new gig will be even more intense [there will be absolutely zero down time].
3. For the last five+ years, more than 50% of time, Big and I have been dating long distance [and now, we’ll be roommates].

To be perfectly honest [and this isn’t from being raised in a conservative Catholic household], I always hoped to be married, or at least engaged…prior to shacking up. But this opportunity to work for a world-renowned organization fell into my lap and I absolutely could not turn it down.

While I have my work cut out for the next 14 days to pack my bags & uproot my life, all the while attempting to gently register the sheer amount of alterations in an accelerated, acute timeline, this monumental milemarker makes my heart smile [the cheesy kind that magically produces dimples…even though you really don’t possess the cheek indents].

The last 14 months of reconciliation turned rewarding partnership with my manfriend has exceeded expectations ten times over.

We made it. We finally made it.

I’m looking forward to enjoying pockets of time together that most people might take for granted: rolling over at night and spooning before falling asleep; waking up to the person I love; talking about the day’s events face-to-face; eating dinner at our very own kitchen table; giving each other a hug…just because.

We’ll be a little family of two. But even that won’t last for long.

Good things come in three, and that’s where our soon-to-be adopted dog will fit in just perfectly.

When love prevails.

My former “office boyfriend” Phil introduced me to blogging many years ago. But it wasn’t just writing that we had in common, or the fact we were colleagues at a marketing agency…we loved talking about love.

The two of us quickly became each other’s opposite sex confidant outside of the office.

He was my self-proclaimed male voice of reason.

Subway was our trusted go-to spot for weekly pro bono therapy appointments. He thoughtfully listened as me and my neurosis navigated through Mr. Big shenanigans {Phil even refers to him as Big on & offline} and a few miscellaneous men inbetween our break-ups. I, in turn, heard what he had to say about ex-girlfriends, mini crushes, and ultimately the person who would become the love of his life, Lauren.

Here is their engagement story. He proposed to her yesterday, and I absolutely could not be happier for the guy.

In my entire life, I can honestly say there isn’t another man like Phil on the planet. He is hilarious, sincere, humble, smart, quirky, talented, down-to-earth, and introspective above and beyond most male species. On a few occasions early into our friendship, my gal pals would ask why we didn’t date; I never questioned for a moment if there could be something more.

Without a doubt, I knew we were destined to be great friends and play that special role in each other’s lives. Our goofy dynamic doesn’t even scratch the surface.

So to witness someone who is impossibly deserving of great love, finally find his match, is a real-life fairy tale come true.

To my good friend Charlotte, the eternal optimist, who always believes in love. - Carrie Bradshaw

Gut check.

Soothsayer. That’s what Mr. Big calls me. Honestly, I hadn’t heard that name before he branded me with the title. {Prediction: As soon as he reads that insight, he’ll think, “She’s so innocent” ~ then smile}.

It all started a few years ago. Well, even in high school I noticed strange premonitions, but the awareness of being able to communicate with spirits…as well as predict certain outcomes…came to light in my late twenties.

I have never, ever talked about it publicly. Only my closest friends and a few family members know about my private world of divine connections.

There is nothing special about me though…I don’t possess super human powers, or manifest magical witch skills, or even a full-blown psychic ESP. Ok, maybe Mr. Big will disagree since I’ve helped him win wagers on sports’ games more times than I can remember. 

We all have the ability to ‘tune in’ with messages from The Universe {or whatever you want to label ‘it’}; some have a higher frequency than others. Whenever I am spiritually grounded, have a sound mind, and am overall living in a space of grace…is when I am most connected to invisible, intangible energy. On the contrary, when I’m stressed out, have a bad attitude, or am disconnected from my higher, most authentic self…then the incoming channel is disrupted.

This metaphysical dynamic is confusing, and I don’t completely understand it, but I accept the ability whenever it’s presented. It took me quite a while to share the covert capacity with my inner circle ~ my ego worried they’d judge me, or think I am straight-up crazy. But they’ve actually embraced it quite a bit, and some even half-way jokingly want me to give ‘readings’ on command, which makes me laugh…because {in my personal experience} it normally doesn’t work that way.

People use the expression listen to your gut and obviously we’re not literally having dialogue with intestines. In fact, I’m not even on speaking terms with Miss Gut since she’s expanded when I wasn’t looking. I digress. Another popular buzz word is “intuition.” I believe our ability to tap into this interlocution is really spirit guides and angels trying to help direct us. But, you have to be open-minded enough to ‘hear’ it, let alone act and trust it. I happen to be extremely sensitive (literally as well as emotionally) which is probably one of the reasons my receptor levels are high.

The intuition Wikipedia page says that it comes from the Latin word ‘intueri’, which is often roughly translated as meaning ‘to look inside’ or ‘to contemplate.’ Intuition provides us with beliefs that we cannot necessarily justify.

It has served me greatly, sometimes beyond explanation. I have forecasted someone deceiving me behind my back with absolutely no actual evidence or even a rational explanation to have known it was happening. I have ended a romantic relationship because of an innate awareness that something sketchy was taking place. I have taken chances that, on paper, was not perceived as logicial…but I adhered to my inner voice. I have accepted/declined job offers based very heavily on my intuitive consciousness.

I feel extraordinarly connected to, well, basically anything that is living ~ nature, animals, and humans. My acute awareness that we are much greater than physical beings, but actually embody an eternal soul…changes the way I look at the world. The level of deep respect and empathy has put a permanent filter on viewing everything from daily life, to incomprehensible catastrophes. I operate in compassion and forgiveness. Rinse and repeat.

Last year a spirit unexpectedly came through, of all places, at a happy hour gathering. A gal I met for the first time was at the table with our shared acquaintances. She had lost her Mother several years prior. I became fixated on a ring that Sarah was wearing. There was nothing over-the-top about it, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her finger. It turned out to be her Mom’s jewelry. Next thing I know her spirit is speaking through me and I’m sharing insights about her daughter. Fast forward to recently, I learned that Sarah was driving without her seatbelt on. She kept ‘hearing’ a voice to buckle it. The nagging was relentless. She finally obeyed and within seconds almost got into an accident because a teenager ran the stop sign. Someone might call that her intuition. I call that her Mother’s protection.

In circumstances when I feel a spirit’s presence, I usually ‘see’ in my mind an object or some kind of symbol which always means something to the person I’m sitting in front of. On a few occasions, I’ve also had a vision given to me of a scene that actually happened. Like my best friend kissing her father’s cheek shortly after he passed away. Apparently no one knows that happened since they were alone and she never shared it with a soul.

One of the first medium-like encounters, which is also personally the most profound experience to date, is when I was walking on a treadmill at the gym and I suddenly felt my maternal Grandfather next to me. {I now know that spirits will try to come through when you’re most relaxed and/or your mind is quiet/zoned out…which for me has been during exercise or relaxed with a cocktail} He told me to tell my sister that she needs to have a mammogram and to keep tabs on her breast health. The sense was just precautionary and it did not feel like a tragic outcome, it was simply: Be aware, be mindful. Come to find out, after awkwardly approaching her with this information, my sister explained she recently had the invasive screening test done and something came back on the results. She was due to return for the follow-up appointment. The mass ended up being benign and thankfully she is fine.

The stories go on and on and on.

My newest adventure is learning about the color of auras. A fabulous and equally hilarious gentleman who I blogged about not long ago, is teaching a weekly class called Color is my Prozac. Ironically {or maybe not} before the seminar even began, for the very first time in my life, I felt a color surrounding a friend. It was orange. The words “orange” repeated in my head at least 10 times and I had absolutely no clue what was going on or what that even meant. She had been talking about her desire to get pregnant and fear that it might not happen due to medical circumstances.

Then it hit me, orange is the color energy surrounding her.

My fingertips started typing on the Blackberry; I Googled Orange Aura. The first sentence in the explanation stated: Relates to reproductive organs and emotions.

I have so much more to learn and feel very grateful for the gift of a ‘third eye’ that helps decipher who to trust, assists in bringing comfort to those who no longer have loved ones in the flesh, and steers my path to live everyday in peace.

We are not human beings on a spiritual journey. We are spiritual beings on a human journey. -Stephen Covey

Love is patient.

Every single one of us possesses an achilles’ heel. Evidently, mine is accepting that my grandoise master plan concocted in my subconscious hasn’t come to fruition.

The older and wiser I get, the more I realize and believe in the depth of my Being that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. That every single solitary part of my journey to date has a purpose; the good, bad and ugly.

Yet, even though I *know* this, sometimes, my silly ego with a poor memory forgets.

Like today, while on Facebook, I stumbled across professional photography of a couple {K & C} who recently gave birth to their first child. My computer mouse and I innocently scrolled through the delicious images and instantly got drunk on their love…which has expanded beyond just two individuals in a romantic relationship. Now, they know what love beyond reason is. They created a human life, together.

My mind took an unexpected detour and suddenly transitioned into a time machine; I am sitting at Mr. Big’s dining room table in or around 2005/06 {I told you my memory stinks}. Mr. Big and C are in the kitchen cooking, K and I are enjoying conversation over wine, waiting for our boyfriends to serve us their home cooked Valentine’s Day dinner. K is telling me about their plans to eventually move in together…and before long, the rest was history.

That basic story composition has been regurgitated dozens of times with other couples. It’s like watching the same movie, re-made over and over and over but with different actors/actresses. You know the beginning, middle and end. After a while, you wonder when you’ll be cast to play the lead part.

When I felt tears filling up in my eyes, partly because I’m so overjoyed for their joy, and partly because I have ‘future envy’ {why aren’t we there yet, or even half way there?} — once again, I gently remind myself:

Our journey had some detours. I hold onto hope that we’ll arrive ‘there’ too someday…

Wherever there is.

My story, my scripted plan laced in patience may still be in the editing room, but I don’t think I can hold on much longer to the table-for-one cliché.

A few weeks ago, Big and I hung out with another couple who had just celebrated their 6-year wedding anniversary. They know our entire history, and vice versa.

Me: I still can’t believe that she gave him an ultimatum to get married. I just couldn’t do it, not my style. Do you think he still would have proposed even if he didn’t have that declared cut-off date?

Big: Yes, he still would have proposed, maybe not when he did though.

Meanwhile, I’m reading and working on a review of the book, Blow Me. It’s authored by a smart, witty gal out of Los Angeles. Her literary work has been compared to Sex and the City…which had me at, Hello may I please have a copy? She is very active in the social media world and has a weekly column, Ask Lennie. I couldn’t help myself…so out of curiosity I emailed…and submitted a question.

I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that a fury of 20+ comments on her fan page plus another five on the web site were the result of such a controversial question.

How do you feel about women giving their man an ultimatum, like an engagement proposal deadline?

People vacillated between “absolutely not” to “hell to the yes.” I didn’t inquire because scripting a final proposition is something I’m considering, but because I truly find the dynamic fascinating. In my opinion, if your man doesn’t ask for your hand in marriage by {insert appropriate time based on your personal situation} then you either have an honest conversation about intentions, and/or you exit stage left.

As the brilliant Steve Jobs said, “You have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever.”

I trust that our time will come. I trust in love.