and so it begins....

I didn't try to keep him.

Brown Boot.

I could have fought harder to get him to say he loved me. I could have fought harder to have our first New Year's together. I kept having the same dream, with us kissing at midnight for the first time with fireworks going off in the background.

But I didn't.

And it wasn't easy at all. It was one of the hardest things I had to do.

I waited for him to say something. For him to do something. I'm not really sure what I was waiting for, but I was waiting for something. Some grand romantic gesture? For him to randomly show up at my doorstep or at work with a massive bouquet of lilies? I have no idea what I was waiting for.

No, I do. I was waiting for the bike. He told me so many times that he wanted to give me a real bike.

I need to backtrack a few years. Back to our first pretend Christmas together. We never got to spend the actualy holiday together, because he was always with family in other states. So over a month before he left one year, we decided to have our own.

We set up a little tree and lit the fire and baked the Pillsbury orange rolls, because that's part of Christmas. That was the year I made the quilt for him. I have no idea if he still sleeps with it at night. Last I heard, he still has it. But who knows if it's even in the same state as he is. I tried to make it like his favorite things... The fabric had snowflakes on most of it, and then there was fabric I picked because it reminded me of the ocean. Two seemingly different things coming together to form something beautiful... A tribute to us, if you will.

He kept going off about how excited he was about my gift, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. He kept dropping hints... and all the hints were totally off.

He was so excited to see me play on it.

He couldn't wait to put it together.

It's going to be so exciting!

The last one was right, but the others were totally off. Of course, I had no idea at the time.

So when I sat in his dad's old white(ish) chair while he went outside to get my gift.

Um... Outside?

That chair was comfortable... worn down from years of relaxing... worn down so much, that the stuffing was coming out of the armrests. And it was very hard to tell the chair was ever bright white. The chair was comfortable, and I was nervous.

Then he walked in with my gift... which happened to be a bike with some wrapping paper wrapped around the middle and a bow. It was his dad's bike. And he was beaming.

He had apparently bought the bike from his dad to give to me because his dad was giving me a new one. He had the biggest grin on his face, and was literally bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Go ahead! Ride it! I want to see you use your gift!"

Um.... okay....?

I climbed on the bike and started to steer it outside, and felt his hand on my elbow, and I heard him laughing. He told me to stop, and told me to sit back down, that the bike wasn't really my gift.

The bike went back outside, and I went back into the chair. Nervous. Palms sweaty. Heart racing.

Then he brought out the little silver bag.

A little silver bag, with white and green tissue paper poking out of the top.

He got down on one knee in front of me and waited for me to open the gift...

I pulled out a little red box, with a tiny little snap that kept it closed. And my heart started beating faster. Tears started forming in my eyes, but I didn't want to get too excited until I saw what was inside that little red box.

I opened it.

I looked into his eyes.

And I started sobbing.

Inside, I found one of the most unique rings I have ever seen. White gold and small diamonds. A heart with three diamonds on either side, and seven diamonds forming a flower (or what looks more like a snowflake to me) in the middle. I loved it.

I wrapped my arms around him while he told me how it wasn't an engagement ring... It was a promise ring. A promise that no matter what happened, he would always love me. That one day, he knew we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.

So, since then, we joked about him giving me a real bike. He promised me multiple times to make me an actual mountain bike so we could ride together, and he promised to get me a different kind of bike.

Was that what I was waiting for? No. I could have gone after him. I could have kept pushing to talk to him, but in my experience with him before, that didn't work. So I tried my hardest to let go. I tried to push him out of my life and out of my mind.

Drinking helped. Drinking gave me liquid courage. It gave me an escape... so a good part of my life in Florida became a drunk blur. I can't tell you how many nights after work we went to the bar, because it was pretty much every night. Usually the same bar.

The same freaking Coconut Willy's. I gained courage and sang a lot of karaoke as time went by. I got my confidence back. I tried to find myself outside of Brown Boot.

That's why I left Utah in the first place. I didn't go to Florida so he could follow me there. I went there to find myself, specifically to not date anyone or get involved with anyone in a romantic way.

I was knitting a sweater.

Sometimes, before you can get the courage to find yourself, you have to be able to totally lose yourself. And that's exactly what I had to do.

My songs for Brown Boot at this moment?

"Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie
"Sober" by Kelly Clarkson

To this day they still make me think of him...

(That will be it for Brown Boot for the next few posts... because after this, things really started getting interesting.)

when doubt starts to set in...

There are a lot of moments that are engraved into my brain from the few days I had after I came back to Utah from Florida to pack up my small apartment... And all of them started running though my brain while I sat at my parent's counter top in their kitchen after I had brought my last load of crap to their house. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe, reminding myself that it was the right thing.

Between sobs, I talked to my mom and my brother. I had said goodbye to a majority of the family. We had a little, "Amanda is moving out of the state, time to say goodbye" party, which consisted of a BBQ and as much family as we could gather, but that still isn't something I remember very well.

I remember sobbing, resting my head on the cold counter top, and telling myself to breathe.

And listening to Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson over and over again. The words spoke to me. The explained my situation. They hit home, or Florida, if we're speaking in a literal sense.

This time that I was spending, crying on that counter, was the last time I would see both of my parents for a year. And that was hard. Little did I know, it was the last time I would see both of them living in that house.

It was the moment I realized what I was leaving behind. And that was everything. My materialistic belongings? I would only have what I could fit on the plane. And I was okay with that. I was prepared for the adventure. Or so I thought.

The past week was running through my head. My apartment was totally empty, and I didn't even have my keys anymore. I would be staying with my cute adopted sister in the apartment below me that night, and she would be driving me to the airport in the morning... And memories started flooding my mind, like they were attacking me one by one, trying to get me to stay.

Mike is this guy that I had dated off and on when I wasn't on with Brown Boot... He started out as a drunk accident when I was in a terrible emotional state, and just kind of stayed around. He was hard to get rid of... I knew I loved him, but I also knew that he wasn't good for me and that I didn't honestly want to be with him, which is why I kept leaving. Here he was, ready for marriage, and I knew I didn't want it with him...

Anyway, when I had made my decision to leave, Mike was dating another girl. They were pretty serious, living together. He kept telling me he would never love her like he loved me, yet he wouldn't leave her for me. Like he was trying to keep me around for whatever reason... There was a night when I was packing up my things and he wanted to come over to say goodbye. I was sitting on his lap outside on my balcony, looking at the city stars and having a cigarette in the sweet summer air, and he started crying. He begged me not to go. He was afraid he would never see me again. He cried again when we went back inside and talked on the floor of my living room. The bed he bought me for Valentine's day was gone. Everything was gone. All that I had was clumps of dog hair all over the floor, and some other items that I was still sorting through. He kissed me and I cried... But I sucked it up and told him to leave... And kept telling him that

I had to do this. I had to leave. And he kept begging me to stay...

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I had to. I knew that if I didn't leave, I would stay in this disgusting cycle that I was in with him, and that it wasn't going to be good for me. I needed to get out. There was something for me in Florida. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was there.

The morning after Brown Boot and I had our "last night" together played in my head. I woke up, totally wrapped up in him like no time had passed between that time, and the time we woke up in the same bed before that. Our bodies were totally intertwined, and I can tell you for a fact that since I was with him I have never woken up like that. I woke up smiling. We were both smiling. Sweaty. Loved. It felt natural, like we had been doing it forever, and like it would continue until the day we died. I could feel his breath on my neck and his chest hair tickling my back when we breathed... and each breath was taken together. I was scared of leaving Utah,

because I knew it would put me farther away from him,

and he was the big thing I wanted. If he asked me to stay I would have. But he didn't... In fact, he encouraged me to go.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

At the coffee house, people kept telling me that I wouldn't really go. They kept telling me that it was a joke. They didn't believe me. Which made me want to go even more. I loved my job at the time, but now I know I would never go back even if the owner asked me to (and he has, by the way...). I knew that there was some thing better

for me in Florida.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I have to leave.

I had images of the city blurring through my mind... The coffee houses, the trees, the avenues, the U of U, the mountains, the lake... All of was wizzing through my head. And it started spinning. Breakaway played in my head, over and over.... and I knew I had to go.

I have to leave.

Keep breathing.

I have to leave.

Keep breathing.

Before I knew it, that little adopted sister I keep mentioning was dropping me off at the curbside check in and giving me a kiss goodbye. We took a couple pictures with our phones, hugged, kissed a few more times, and I was on my way in through security. It all blurred past me... The only thing I remember from the airport now, was getting on the plane and listing to the Florida mix I had made on my iPod before I had packed away my computer.

Once the plane took off and I felt the pressure change of being up in the air and flying over the mountains, my mantra changed. I felt okay. I knew I could do it.

This is right.

This is right.

I'm headed where I need to be.

This is right.

This is right.

I'm headed where I need to be...

Palm trees.

the hard goodbye... part 2

Tears were streaming down my face. I was sobbing. It was one of the most romantic things I had ever heard. It was sad, but romantic. I had an insane combination of happiness and sorrow running through my body from the top of my head, down through the tips of my toes.

It goes back to that last season of Friends. Things ending. Different things beginning.

Brown Boot was my lobster.

And yes, that's another Friends reference. Look it up if you don't know, and then slap yourself in the face once a day until you've watched the whole series. Or I'll slap you slap bet style. (That one was from How I Met Your Mother... another show you need to watch if you haven't already.)

I'm not really sure of when we had talked before this conversation. I take that back. It was Mother's Day that year. Right after I had told him about losing the baby. I asked if that day counted for me too, and he said no. And then I hear from him while I'm getting things ready to move as far away from him as I could get....

The message he had sent me after he asked me about leaving, was something along the lines of, "I know you're leaving, and I don't know when I'll see you again after you go... But we always talked about having one last night together, and I'd like to see you one more time. Can we have one last night together?"

I sobbed as I read the text to my friend. She was in shock. I was in shock. My heart was in my throat. One hand was wiping tears away from my eyes, and the other was holding my phone and the steering wheel.

One last night... Would it really be the last night? Would it really end after this? I had always said that it was never goodbye with us. "Love is not dead" is permanently engraved on my wrist.

I said yes.

Yes?

Did I really say yes? Was I putting myself in that position again? That position where I would potentially hurt myself all over again? Destroy myself?

Apparently so.

His 21st birthday was July 16, and he would be leaving on the eighteenth to go down to Georgia to stay with his mom for a couple weeks, and then I'd be leaving for Florida a couple days after that. His choice. Not mine. Honestly, I would have settled to see him whenever, but the night of his birthday was his idea. He chose to be with me one last night instead of going out and drinking like crazy with his friends. He picked me.

I spent all day getting ready. I trimmed up my hair, styled it a million ways, tried on a million different outfits with a trillion different accessories, and played with my makeup. I showed each option to my friend, constantly running up and down the stairs to grab new things and try different suggestions. I mu

st have driven my land lady crazy.

His plan was to buy beer for the first time when he was done with work, and then come to pick me up. There was silence on both ends of the phone while he was at work. For a while I was nervous that he would back out. That I would have wasted a day getting ready to have one last night that would never happen. Something that would have only happened in my dreams. I waited down in my friend's apartment. I sat on her couch, and we talked, wasting time and waiting for my phone to make a noise and let me know that he still wanted this as much as I did.

And then my phone buzzed and danced on the table around 10PM. He was on his way. And he'd call me when he was there. My heart jumped again into my throat. That seemed to be its new home. It didn't want to stay down in my chest. Good thing hearts aren't colostrophobic, because mine seemed to spend more time making its presence known in smaller areas of my body.

By the time he called me, he was already at my door upstairs. And it was time for me to have my staircase moment. You know what I'm talking about. In a lot of movies, the girl has her staircase moment, where the camera catches her walking on the stairs, and that's when the guy gets hit with a brick and realizes that he is in love with her. My friend kissed me on the cheek and wished me luck.

I opened her door and turned towards that staircase. Two flights. Thirty seconds. About a dozen stairs. I could make it. I took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other, and reminded myself to keep breathing. I focused on the smaller details of that hallway and the stairs of my 1920's apartment building... The worn carpet... The old light fixtures... The window that didn't open between the first and second flight... and then I saw him.

I swear, angels started singing in my head. My heart fluttered, and butterflies multiplied in my stomach. And the biggest smile spread across my face. There were a few times I had felt this way, and every time it was when I saw him. He looked good. It had only been a couple months since I had seen him, and to me he always looked good. He was wearing his hat and jacket and work polo, which was one of the few times you could actually catch him in a polo. He was holding his first six pack in his hand with a huge grin on his face, and a smile in his eyes. And he was wearing the brown boots.

Before I knew it, I was in his arms. I felt his scruff against my cheek, and smelled work in his clothes. He was warm... Cold from the summer air outside, but warm once our bodies made contact. And he kissed me like he always had, a hand up in my hair, pulling me in closer. He always kissed me like he meant it.

I showed him my empty apartment, and that was the moment he realized that I was really leaving. We didn't have a whole lot of memories in that apartment. Enough for him to remember what it looked like when I actually had stuff in it. Enough for him to recognize that once I left that place, I would never go back. My life was changing before his very eyes. I was growing up.

We drove separately so that I could leave when I needed to the next morning, and he could focus on getting things ready for Georgia. I met him at the front door and we tiptoed our way down to his bedroom.

I had only been in this bedroom one time before, and that was right before Mother's Day. Then, we couldn't stay in there for long, because we both knew where we would end up if we stayed down there. The quilt I made him was still on his bed. The stuffed animals I gave him were still in his room...

Now I don't need to tell you what happened between the two of us in that room. I can tell you that it felt like no time had passed between the last time and that night. We stayed up all night talking and making love like we had done so many times before. It didn't feel like goodbye. It felt perfect. It felt right. It felt like that was where I was supposed to be at that moment in time. I felt beautiful. I felt loved. I felt complete. That one thing that I knew I was missing had been found again. But I knew that we both still had to get on our planes when the time came.

The next morning, he gave me a pair of PJ pants to wear and a shirt. We talked for a couple hours that morning and decided that we were going to see Transformers that day... A date. A goodbye date? Or something? Whatever. It was like old times, but different. Something was changing. We were evolving.

I hate to tell you this.... But with Brown Boot and I saying goodbye? There is a part 3. He promised to see me when I moved to Florida while he was still in Georgia.

I told you, it was never goodbye.

the hard goodbye... part 1

There I was. In the middle of my living room floor. My furniture was gone. All that was left were some items in my kitchen so I could eat, my CD player and my TV and DVD player so I could have some entertainment.... some good quality entertainment.

I'll get to what I was doing in the middle of the floor in a minute, but first I need to explain some things...

My brothers and my dad had come to my apartment to take the big items away and haul them away to my parent's house. My bed? Gone. My couch? Gone. My coffee table? Gone. My dresser? Gone. I had piles of clothes to sort through, dishes and whatever kitchen stuff I had to pack and send to my parents, and some personal items. Where was I sleeping? My friend, and adopted little sister lived in the apartment below me, and ages before we had swapped keys and kind of combined our apartments, so if I needed to sleep or anything, I just needed to go down to my other apartment and help myself. We would snuggle every night, and wake each other up in the morning anyway, so it just made things easier. {sidebar, this friend is now in Africa, doing her first semester abroad. Pretty awesome, right?}.

My massive dog was staying with my friend, Brettley, who has now officially taken him as his own. Which was amazing. I can't thank him enough for what he has done for me, and he seriously has been an amazing friend.

So back to me sitting in the middle of the living room floor. I had been watching the last season of Friends, and if anyone has a heart and has seen the last bit of it, knows that it's about things ending. If you haven't seen it, I'm going to ruin it for you. And slap you across the face for not watching one of the best shows on TV. PS... Spoiler alert.

So, in the last little bit a lot happens. But I'm going to focus on one main thing. Ross and Rachel. The epic relationship of Ross and Rachel. Everyone knows about it.

I was watching the last few episodes while I was sorting through my clothes, trying to figure out what to donate, keep, and store. I was sitting, literally sitting on a pile of clothes, clutching my teddy bear, Frank Hernando, that Mr. Brown Boot had given me. At this point, Rachel had gotten a job in Paris, and was saying her final goodbyes to everyone at her goodbye party. Everyone except Ross. Because it was too hard. Of course he was offended. I would have been too.

Bla bla bla... The end up having sex, and they both realize they are in love with each other still. That's the thing that hit me. And she is going to leave for Paris anyway. I already know how it ends. Bla bla bla happily ever after.

But there I was. Sitting on a pile of clothes. Hugging the Brown Boot bear. My red, puffy eyes fixed on the TV, with tears streaming down my face. Friends was making me cry.

Remember how I mentioned my friend that had they key to my apartment? My door was already unlocked, and she came in to see that pathetic sight. Me, crying, holding a damn teddy bear... PA.THE.TIC. So pathetic, she actually sad, "AWE!" out loud. I'm not even close to kidding.

She dragged my pathetic ass out of my pathetic apartment. Dragged me to the coffee house I wasn't managing anymore, and made me breathe fresh air and sunshine. Did I mention that I was carrying the teddy bear still? Yeah. I was. Did I say pathetic? PATHETIC.

A day or so later, I had my mom's car and I was running errands. There were last minute things I knew that I needed to get in Utah before I moved to Florida. My sweet friend was with me still. Every step of the way. Sure, she wasn't very happy about me leaving, but she still supported me. She even went with me to get to my birth control.

We were leaving Planned Parenthood, after almost getting pushed off the road by an idiotic trucker (two years later, and I still remember that jerk...) when I got the fatal text message.

I don't remember how it started. I don't remember what the first message said. I just knew who it was from. When I saw his name on my screen... I was shocked. I started freaking out to my friend who had been there with me through the past year of my hell. It was Brown Boot.

He heard I was leaving.

He wanted to see me one last time.

He wanted to have one last night with me.

who, what, where, when, and... WHY??

July. 2007.

My best friend had left months before to Florida, and I felt miserable. Sure, I had my own friends. I had an awesome apartment in downtown Salt Lake City. I had a really cool job that would never pay me enough for the work I did, and I was kinda satisfied with how my life was going... But a lot was missing. I still felt empty. The lease was up on my apartment, and I could go month to month (with some extra money I didn't have involved....), I could find a new place, I could get roommates, or I could move out of the state. So how did my decision finally get made? Why did I do what I decided to do? That will come with some more explaining...

My head was a mess. I knew I wanted something new, and that I could do so much better than I had been. I had been in my dark and twisty place for a long time, and couldn't seem to pull myself out of it, for whatever reason. I let the same guys keep messing with my head, and it just seemed to get worse day by day. One in particular had seriously destroyed me, almost beyond repair, and there will be more on him later... or in previous blogs if you care to look. (www.notsogeniusmind.blogspot.com).

It took a lot of coaxing... Maybe I just needed to get out for a little while and see what was out there. Check my options. Listen to the advice of those that knew me best.

I'm not really sure how, but I decided that I was going to move out of the state. I'm pretty sure it was because I wanted to get away from everything that reminded me of Brown Boot... Every time I saw the damn mountains, trees, anything downtown (especially the U of U campus, and sadly enough my own apartment...), bodies of water... Every time I thought about camping, riding a bike, or doing anything, I thought of him. Seriously. My life was tainted by him, and I needed to get out. I needed to forget. And I needed somewhere I had never been to with him. I knew I could never move on if I thought about him every where I looked and every corner I turned. That damn Brown Boot had been walking all over my life and destroying everything as if he were Godzilla...

Or an even better description would be the scene from "Lelo and Stitch" where stitch builds a city, and then destroys it. Mr. Brown Boot had literally built up my life, and was taking his sweet time destroying every little part of it. He built me up, and tore me down... I don't think he'll ever know the amount of damage he did. And I still don't believe that he knows he was a big reason why I left in the first place.

As for moving out of the state, I had three options. Hawaii, Florida, or Oregon.

My best friend from first grade lived in Oregon, where I grew up... and I was dying to live there once again. She had a place for me, she had dogs, and I already knew where stuff was around the area. I was more than welcome, and in fact, she had been trying to convince me to move back.

Someone who used to be a friend, but never really was that great of one... Actually, they were the worst friend I ever had to be completely honest. I'll talk about that stuff at some point. Only we'll change her name so that if she ever reads this, she won't get even more mad at me than she already is.... Anyway. Someone I thought was my friend had moved to Hawaii, and loved it. I used my best judgement, and ruled this idea out completely. I needed something a little less "stranded-in-the-middle-of-the-ocean-away-from-everything-I-know" if you catch my drift.

My best friend, that I had ironically met through Brown Boot, lived in Florida. She hated the Disney College Program that she had originally gone down there for, finally broke things off with a friend that was much like the friend I mentioned in my previous paragraph, and she had broken up with her boyfriend and found someone so much better. She had a job where she made plenty of money, and she was happier than she had been in a long time.They lived close enough to hear the fireworks at DisneyWorld, they went to the beach, and they had a good group of people, and a lot of fun.... She was still having just as hard of a time without me as I was having without her... And her boyfriend, who is amazing by the way, said that he would buy me a plane ticket to come visit for a week and then let me decide what to do. Maybe this was what I needed.

I took the bate for Florida. I needed my friend and she needed me, and some palm trees and sandy beaches wouldn't hurt either. Jamie, my friend's boyfriend, bought the ticket, and I started packing my bags for a trip that would change the rest of my life more than I could imagine.