Tag Archives: love

Rollercoasters to Ferris Wheels

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To most people, autumn means the color change of leaves and cozy sweaters. To others, pumpkins and spiced treats. But to me, growing up in North Carolina, autumn meant prize-winning pigs, boiled peanuts, and cotton candy. The fair had come to town.

Every fall was marked with the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes. Fingers covered in powdered sugar and stained by candied apples would dig around in coat pockets to fish out tickets for rides. My mother would hold our fairground grub and prizes while my sister and I rode the Himalaya. This was the true marker of the season’s change, a tradition that carried for eleven years straight until I moved to New York.

Here in New York, fall took on a new meaning. Fall of 2002, I entered my Senior year of high school. Fall of 2003 was my Freshman year of college. Fall of 2009, my nearly five year relationship ended. I was devastated and struggled to find comfort. Here held too many memories of the times we were happy… and the times we were not. There was only one place I wanted to be and one thing I wanted to do. I called Mom and told her I was coming home and we were going to the State Fair.

Though it had been nearly eight years since we were all together at the fair, it felt the same as before. Mom still juggled turkey legs and stuffed animals and we still rode the Himalaya. The carnival noises and lights still made my eyes go saucer wide. I was surrounded by love. And there, between bites of smoked turkey legs and watergun games, my autumn, which started with heartbreak, experienced a change of its own.

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Philia

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Yesterday was the not only the end of a year, but the end of my trip home to visit my family in North Carolina. I had planned and packed for a trip lasting only three days, but thanks to the Second North American Blizzard of 2010 aka Snowmageddon aka Snowpocalypse, I was in the Good Ol’ North State for nearly a week. Left with no choice, I took the earliest flight out of OAJ which was the 12:40pm flight with two connections, returning to LGA at 6:30pm on New Year’s Eve. After less than lovely flights on propeller planes, I almost succumbed to my bed’s calls. “I’ve missed you. You’ve missed me. Let’s catch up, shall we?”

“Some other time…” I had two hours to go from Frequent Flyer to Foxy New Year’s Eve Reveler. I could hear the tick of my mother’s kitchen timer in my head while I showered. Hurry hurry! You can’t miss this bus, the next won’t come for another hour. There would be no way you’d make it Downtown before midnight. My next thought left me frozen. You’d ring in the New Year, alone.

*Cue the Psycho scream*

Call it tradition or superstition, but for as long as I can remember, my New Year’s Eve celebrations have always been with loved ones and/or friends. The thought of me, alone, on a subway car between the Hunts Point and Longwood Avenue stops at the stroke of midnight was terrifying. Entering a new year surrounded by strangers? What would that mean for the rest of the year? Was my Spinster prophecy coming true? No, I cannot enter the New Year with negative thoughts. As I dressed, I began to spin the outcome and meaning of me ringing in the New Year solo. I moved back to New York in December 2001. Twenty-eleven will mark my ten year anniversary, for which I do plan to throw a party. I moved here alone, leaving all that was familiar behind in North Carolina. I was surrounded by strangers. I went from seeing the same people everyday to utter newness. I had no friends, didn’t know anyone in any of my classes. I even ate lunch alone. Were things coming full circle? You’ve got no time to think about this right now. Hurry hurry!

The transit gods were on my side. I caught my bus and the train showed up as scheduled. Leaping over piles of now tarnished snow, I arrived at our meeting place on time. However, my friends had not. They were on their way, but stuck in traffic. It’s 11:15 pm, no big deal. Fifteen minutes pass and then another fifteen. They still had not arrived. The pounding bass of the music was not enough to quiet my thoughts. It’s fate and a cycle completing itself. You can’t fight fate. Just let it be. My phone vibrates and interrupts my internal pep talk.

It’s a text. “Nside.” My arms fly above my head and my feet do a quick shuffle. People must have thought the DJ was playing my jam. He wasn’t and I didn’t care that I looked like Mumble in the middle of the dance floor. And as we counted down to midnight, the tradition continued. Philia had foiled my supposed fate.

Happy New Year!

New direction…

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I know it has been quite some time since I have posted… Heck, it’s been a long time since I have written anything.

Originally, Cupid’s Eros was to be a love blog of sorts. Not love advice, but a chronicle of the journey, my journey, to love. I’m not sure if people understood this, but all my stories on Cupid’s Eros were past events. I was in a relationship when I started the blog and wanting to find humor in every situation, thought it would be fun to recount the tales of all the awkward dates, poor choices, and straight-up weirdness that led me to my present (but now past) situation. Well, things did not quite turn out as I had hoped and as I never felt quite comfortable writing about present-day life matters, the writing came to a halt. Out of respect for myself and my dates, I could not bring myself to blab about my current (and again, now past) dating adventures. So Cupid’s Eros sat and collected dust… kind of like my love life. Eerie.

I’ll be honest though, you didn’t miss much. I putted through dates like a game of half-hearted mini golf. Everyone encouraged me to get back out There, and I still have not found just where this mythical There is. But, my pursuit of the Land of There lead me to sitting in a bar, on a date with this man who scratched his balls at the rate a human baby blinks. These were not minor adjustments… he was scratching with a deep digging vigor one does when trying to get pasta sauce out of one’s brand new cream-colored carpet. First and last date. Another time, I found myself sitting across the table from a man who let the check sit on the table for eons while bouncing his eyes from me, to the check, to his watch, and back to me. Only when I gestured to pick up the tab, does he say, “I’ll treat you. I normally don’t do this. I’m not going to go gaga over you, I know better.” Oh really, dude? First and last date.

Each date was more lackluster than the previous which ultimately lead me to dating someone I had known for years, but never paid very much attention to… myself. I took myself on vacation, twice, to places I had forever longed to see. I started to learn more about who I am, how I am, and what made me attractive in my own right. I learned that I am as fearless as I am chicken. As agile as I am clumsy. As “fantastically romantic”, as one friend called me, as I am a total goofball. In the past, I had never actively sought out a partner. I went about my normal life and if I happened to meet someone I wanted to be with and who felt the same about me, we got together. I was forcing myself to go on dates, forcing myself to find someone I liked and ended up not liking anyone, at times, not even myself. My turning my love and attention inward had led me to live again as my most authentic self.

So what does this have to do with Cupid’s Eros? For starters, no more date stories. Yeah, I know. **Tragic. But, I will be sharing my travel stories and general ideas and thoughts on growing into my mid-twenties. It will be a potpourri, little bits and pieces that contribute to a whole, lovely sweet-smelling experience. When I finally get my dSLR (I’ve been dreaming of the Canon T2i for some time), I’ll share my photography. For now, you’ll have to settle for a photo I took while in San Juan, on my first solo vacation, this October.

It was my first day in Puerto Rico and I was still in New York City mode. I hurried down the street like a mall speedwalker. I wasn’t making eye contact with anyone and mumbled a rushed Buenas to those who passed, until I saw this Stop sign. It had dawned on me that I had never seen a Stop sign in a language other than English, so I took a photo of it. Standing in the middle of the street, adjusting my camera settings, I had finally stopped. I heard the Coquis, the waves, and stopped worrying that I looked like the ultimate tourist taking a picture of a traffic sign. On the walk back to the hotel, I took my time and enjoyed the streets and residents of Condado, greeting and returning a genuine greeting of Buenas.

**said in my most sarcastic voice.

Bull’s Eye

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24. New York City.

After my boyfriend of over 4 years dumped me, I ventured back into the dating scene with little abandon.  I met men everywhere, from Twitter to subway trains, and boy was it an experience!  Not only did I get a glimpse into the mind of a man in his 20s (or teens due to my very brief, yet enjoyable stint with a 19 year old), I was able to delve deeper into my feelings of love, lust, and, “I am not into him!”  This blog chronicles these adventures and then some.

We’ve all been in like, in lust, and hope to one day, really, be in love.