lost in a crowd

so i was watching this commercial for eharmony or match.com or something of the sort and they said something about a question about self awareness.

and i wondered, am i self-aware?

and then i thought, am i an idiot because i'm not 100% sure what that even means?

so i looked it up.

self awareness:

is the explicit understanding that one exists.  Furthermore, it includes the concept that one exists as an individual, separate from other people, with private thoughts.  It may also include the understanding that other people are similarly self-aware.

OK

so now i wonder if there's such a thing as being overly self-aware.  and if so, i think that describes me.  i am too conscious of my existence as an individual, separate from others.  

how would i answer that question: yes, i am self-aware, but can anyone ever truly be sure?

side note (involving my obsession with coincidence and the meaning of everything):  wikipedia goes immediately from self awareness to self consciousness saying that "self-consciousness plays a large role in behavior, as it is common to act differently when people 'lose one's self in a crowd'."  

and this right after i named this post "lost in a crowd".  

dammit.  what does it all mean?

maybe that i am acting differently now that i feel lost in a crowd?????  

i think there is Good lost in a crowd and Bad lost in a crowd.  

i would venture to guess that feeling lost in a crowd might make you act more natural as long as you want to be there.

Although if you are uncomfortable in the situation and didn't necessarily want to lose yourself, maybe you are acting awkward and over-thinking the most trivial things.

i'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that if i were acting one way or the other, i'm more prone to act like awkward and deliberate.

i find this to be a swell way of looking at it.

maybe i can relax a little if i attribute my awkwardness to feeling "lost in a crowd".  

no witty anecdotes to sum up this post.

just a lot of hope for self-assurance in the near future.

wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

what you once were is not what you want to be anymore.

dear me,
you can't possibly love him this much. he has already hurt you.it is too soon.he is selfish and spoiled and arrogant. he is not attracted to you or your small boobs or your eyes or the wrinkles that he so kindly pointed out that you will get on your forehead.it is hard to remember the awful moments when they are hidden underneath the tender fragments of "where are you? you are too far away from me. i need to feel your hands" and "my little princess."
god, don't be so fucking delusional. he visited for 2 days. you gave him 3 blowjobs, got finger fucked twice and did not once have sex. not once. who travels across the ocean to see someone for 2 days and doesn't even fuck them? and steals a gazillion glances at other girls. so many.
and the excuses.oh the fucking excuses.
"as i said before, i don't believe in cross cultural relationships......." "don't forget the difficult situation i am in with my ex- we were together for 13 years" blahblahblahblah.
he is not handsome or sweet. but he is charming and dashing. and you are so fucking stupid! you cried last night and hated him so much. and still today you were hungry for his approving kisses on your forehead and cheek and shoulder and always letting him have control. what the fuck is wrong with you? that is not you. you are always the powerhouse.

he arrived finally around 2:30 on friday. you were so nervous. visibly shaking when you went down to meet him. and you tried to overcompensate like a fool. and you felt ashamed of yourself. you are never ashamed of yourself. you are always told that you are amazing and beautiful but for some reason this one has the ability to make you doubt everything about yourself and analyze and focus on and maybe magnify every flaw.
you were paralzed with anxiety and nervousness during the first awkward moments you chatted on the bed. and he seemed so collected and comfortable, arriving with two dozen tulips which you, in your complete clumsiness, forgot to put in water. and you talked more and played with the ipods and you let him make every first move. and finally the first kiss. it was nice. and you had weird tights on under your jeans when things started getting more heated up. dressed like fucking fort knox. he fingered you. you finally gave him a blow job which he found to be the most amazing thing. his dick was fucking huge, terrific. and terrific meaning that it terrified you and you are not afraid of this- ever. you are a little slut, remember? but this time scared you. and he did not try to fuck you, which was a relief - because this would come later and be beautiful. and your secret place flowed like an angry volcano. and he hugged you so tight. and you said, "welcome to the united states."

and you went out and about, walking to the stores- prada, chanel, etc. you were quiet but happy. he kissed you on the shoulder while looking at TOD's and you felt good even though you felt ugly and out of place (which you NEVER EVER do, especially in the finest stores). you went to the ipod store where he bought you some covers for your ipod because you dropped it and scratched it on a run in the park last weekend. and you thought this was so incredibly sweet. and then you walked a bit more and decided to get a cab home so that he could order some pizza for dinner. you did not dare have a piece- you are fat and ugly enough. and you thought you would take a nap and go out, but he fell asleep for the night-- still on belgium time. fucking jetlag.

and then at 12am you finally fell asleep too.

you were awoken at 3am to him planting dozens of kisses all over your face and shoulders and arms. and you loved it and though you were asleep on the couch because this spoiled brat had complained about the small bed, he asked why you were so far away and you got in bed. and though you were exhausted you stayed awake and talked and hung out with him until you finally fell back asleep at 6:30 or so.

and he woke you up again at 8:30 with kisses. and you went out and about. more shopping and sightseeing, though the original plan, however far out the window it was at this point, was to spend the whole weekend at home, discovering each other. he held your hand and kissed your head and called you princess. he bought you the lost in translation dvd because you love that movie. he also bought prada shoes because you just loved them. at some point the future was brought up, and his thoughts on the two of you, though once so bright and optimistic had turned to a very bleak "we have to be realistic." followed by "let's not talk about this right now." you pouted and poured over this but did not want to drag it out and possibly ruin any of the only 48 hours you would be together. you saw a billion stores and went to times square and grand central and the empire state building. and he told you you were a terrible tour guide. and then he started being a bastard again. maybe sleepy or just difficult for the sake of being difficult. and you smiled and ordered dinner and made sure he was comfortable and he went to sleep. and then you did, on the couch again. and then you were awoken at midnight to kisses and him wanting to go out, which you also wanted but were too tired and full from dinner. which you only ate after he was asleep. you wanted to tickle his back and kiss his fair skin until he was relaxed before you would eat.

this is what you do. you yin to everyone's yang. if there is a sweet and passive and kind and compassionate person that only wants to love you, you push them to test their breaking point. and you run from them. if there is a spoiled ego grumbling and acting annoyed in your bed, you pet them and stroke them until they feel better and pull them close to you. there is a power over you bending you backwards to test your breaking strength and you are flexing with it. what the fuck is with you?? you are the embodiment of reverse psychology.

regardless, you went out and it was a little weird. you don't mind him looking at other girls because you are very comfortable in this setting and you know you are a beautiful girl. it is mostly alone with him that you feel so inadequate. and then you were a little drunk and left and went home and you felt so sure about having terrific sex. but no. he did not want to have sex. you cannot remember the excuses though you know there were many. and at some point after the long laborious blowjob that seemed to take hours, you started bawling. hysterically crying. and he tried to comfort you. and you went to sleep at 6am with salty tears in your eyes. the honeymoon is over, if there was a honeymoon.

he woke you up at 10am. and you felt rushed so you got ready and on your way downtown you talked a little but now you can't remember much of it. and you feel so happy when he compliments you because you feel like you are winning his approval which means so much to you. it is as a rigid parent with inadequate child trying so hard to win their love. and you walked and kissed and held hands and said nice things and acted happy and lovely and went to canal street and wall street and ground zero and walked across the brooklyn bridge and it was lovely and flowery. and then you went for lunch at grimaldi's where you ate a slice of pizza because there was nothing else on the menu- which you promptly wanted to throw up.

and you went home and he said he was purposely distancing himself from you otherwise he wouldnt want to leave. and you hurt on the inside just knowing he would leave you and maybe never again walk across your doorstep in just one hour. and you talked about how awful he was last night and he was sorry. and you talked about the weekend. and about the future. and you said that you believed that if two people felt strongly enough about each other and their hearts were 100% into it, that any distance could work. and suddenly you feel so vulnerable, so exposed to the elements. so you shield yourself by digging up your past affairs and retreating to your shelter of promiscuity. and he tells you about blowjobs from a brazilian visiting paris and a black girl in st. tropez that he ultimately told to fuck off because she had a child but that you are the best he's ever had in 28 years. and the slut soaks it up and you honestly dont care- it is not about that for YOU. but the whore is stirred and thinking about the next conquest.

and then he talks about how much you will love paris and how you will want to move there and how much fun you will have on your visit there next month. and he talks about the ex. and she's still fucking living with him. 2 months later and she is still there. and he says that she may still be there when you visit in a month. and you should be in shock, but you are not. and he says you would have to meet her and are you capable of this. and you recall some of the horrific moments of the weekend and tell him that you are quite good at smiling through unpleasant moments.. she has been a part of his life for so long- she is everywhere and basically cannot just be erased. she controls him, he controls you. everyone is in control in this situation but YOU. you are in danger and need to get out.

and as he packs his things he kisses you and tells you that he feels like he has known you for years and that you are sweet and amazing and perfect and that he doesn't think he has ever met anyone as wonderful as you. and you discuss how you are both pretty sure that you are not the person for each other, but you will see how europe goes. he is too much ego for you- you are the yin to the yang and sweet is not your style. and you tell him that you think that he will hurt you a lot. and he agrees. and he tells you that he will still call you every day. and plays with your hair and looks at your hands.

it is time to go downstairs. the car will arrive soon. he buys a lot of candy and gives you lots of kisses and tells you that this has been the most fantastic weekend and he is so happy he made the trip and it was so worth it. and the car has arrived so you watch him put his things in the trunk. and he runs over to give you one more kiss.
and the car door closes.
and your heart continues to tear.
and he blows you a kiss and you turn to walk inside so you do not have to watch him disappear from sight.

for one second you decide.
and you come into your empty apartment wanting to cry. but you can't. so you pen a stupid email:
My dear P van R from Belgium,
you have just left me. maybe half an hour ago. i feel so cool and full and broken and empty all at the same time. of course it is possible because that=me. there is so much to mull over from the weekend. so many details that i don't want to think about because they are too many and i just want to remember how happy and perfect i felt at your side.
and everything else i want to wrap up and put in a little box and hide it away until i am feeling less wrought with emotion. i wish i could burn down my bedroom around me. let it just crumble. it is hard because i am left to look at my room and every single thing reminds me of you. it was so tidy when you got here and now it is a big mess that i can't clean because somehow it feels painful. maybe though it is like having a piece of glass in your foot. it is so piercing to pull it out, but once you do, you are already that much better and the pain begins to subside. so i will clean everything -sweep it away- and go back to life as usual.
i am jealous of you. hopping in a car and leaving me trapped in my snowglobe with pieces of you swirling around... such a crazyfeeling. you left graffiti all over my life. little marks, signs of your existance here. everything still so electrically charged. and you can escape from it completely!
i will have to retreat to my emotionless world now.
what a monster you can be mr. p from belgium.
but how amazing you are.
and oh how i love/hate you to the very last drop.
and how brilliant it will be to see your face and kiss your mouth in paris in just a month.
thank you, thank you for coming to visit and taking a chance on me. i learned a lot of things this weekend- a lot about myself and a lot about the person i am versus the person i want to be.
ok enough. i don't want to cheapen this feeling i'm left with. so raw..
for some reason iam having incredible difficulty with this email. i have looked at it off and on for 3 hours now.
you are somewhere in the sky. far over the ocean. so i will say this last thing.
"sometimes inconvenient situations, problems, or difficulties conceal opportunities for growth; very often in the heart of difficulties shines the light of a precious jewel. it is therefore wise to welcome what is inconvenient and difficult."
ok cool. see you soon.

and you sleep through his call from the airport to thank you again and say he misses you. and you read the end of 100 strokes of the brush before bed and it makes you cry, cry, cry. it ends in beautiful, entire self consuming love.
what you once were is not what you want to be anymore.