Spackle, Shellack, and Glitter

I re-watched the Sex & The City movie for the hundredth time this weekend - saw it was playing on cable and decided it was time to dust it off and pop it in. I'd never actually cried at that movie before this most recent viewing, but when Big jilts her and she attacks him with her flowers... I totally shed a few tears.

Since then I've been thinking really hard about the meaning of family. One of my coworkers has a family that is similarly dysfunctional to mine (or, dysfunctional to my one-year-ago family, not the current state of my family, which is even more dysfunctional) and I'm often the sounding board/de facto therapist for her. So many people I knew growing up had really great families and best-friendy relationships with their moms and they just kind of seemed like Norman Rockwell paintings. Mine was way more Picasso than Rockwell, and at some point I was okay with that. I realize now that it was probably a defense mechanism, but I was glad that my family had some cracks and chips and stains, because it made life more interesting, less cookie-cutter.

Now, though, all I want is a calm, safe, semi-boring life. The guy (Holy Grail, or HG) from Sunday's post reminds me a lot of this guy E, who I had a thing for during my last few months before I moved: very sweet, very safe (the major difference being that HG drinks, and E doesn't - biiiiiiig difference, huh?). It sounds disparaging and lazy, doesn't it? Maybe I'm searching for stability because my life is so unstable right now, or maybe it runs deeper than that and I have more daddy issues than I think I do (great, just what every guy wants to hear!). When I moved up here, I triumphantly put E behind me and resolved never to be "boring" ever again and to live boldly and all that. This resolution did not under any circumstances take into account the turmoil I was going through with my family and job uncertainty.

Now, okay, I've taken some risks since moving here. I did hook up with Almost-Neck-Tattoo Guy, which was fun but now I'm not so sure how proud of myself I am for it. Mostly that's because deep down, I do want a relationship, not just a fling, and I don't want to do anything that would screw up my chances of finding that relationship. HG would be a great partner, I think, but now he's acting all weird around me, which is so annoying. Of course, I have no idea how to have the "so, we hooked up, now what?" conversation, so guess who's SOL?

In an attempt to wrap this up I'm going to circle back around to the beginning of the post and the idea of family. My family lets me down an awful lot, and I let myself down an awful lot, and apparently I am way more of a fuddy-duddy than I make myself out to be. I talk a big game, but I'd rather curl up and watch Real Housewives marathons most nights than go out drinking. But my friends are my life and my family, and I have basically jettisoned the Picasso and am building a Monet around myself: several tiny dots that all add up to a beautiful life.