The question is...

We've all heard it before, the cock-and-bull line about "Opposites attract." It's up there on the list of most cliched cliches about relationships imaginable. But it must have some truth to merit its overuse...

It's been plaguing me for days. I can't imagine how this can possibly be true. If you've got nothing in common, no hobbies or dreams, nothing, how can a relationship work? For the past few posts, I have been focusing on my undefined relationship with a once-upon-a-time-boyfriend. Today I realized that I have very little or nothing in common with this O.U.A.T.B. Actually, I may have mentioned it yesterday, but I fully realized today just how very little we share outside of each other.

In addition to the short list of differences I wrote yesterday, there is also this: He doesn't want to live in a big city and Philadelphia terrifies him, while I plan to live in New York City or Philadelphia for the rest of my life and I love the big city.

This, to me, couldn't be any more glaring a difference.

Ultimately, I found all of these differences too big to ignore. And because neither of us can change who we are, and despite our efforts to share one another's passions, we stopped being "us."

So, when you have nothing in common, the question is either: "What's the matter?" or "Is it everything that matters?"

I hope you'll find that for you, the question is the former.

(The above is an image of Sarah Jessica Parker, as Carrie Bradshaw, in Sex and the City: The Movie.)

W.W.C.B.D.?

In life, I find myself wondering "What Would Carrie Bradshaw Do?"

Today is no exception. I'm facing a possible Mr. Big situation. As in I may know who my Mr. Big is. And I'm not sure how to handle it.

For those of you who don't know what I mean, "a Mr. Big" is someone who comes in and out of your life because you will never be over them. Some would say you were fated to be together. And I think I know who I should be with. It seems the universe is telling me this is true. Even my best friend Nicole, the cheerleader for love that she is, is telling me I should get back together with O.U.A.T.B.

And earlier, O.U.A.T.B. and I were chatting on Yahoo! IM and he was flirting and I wasn't not flirting.

But there are things about him that drive me crazy. Like we don't have anything in common -- I love to read, he can't spell; I write, he doesn't read what I write; and most importantly, I want to be single right now. I've got too much going on to be in a relationship. At least a long distance one.

And despite what Nicole says, there are some things that I don't think love can overcome when nothing else has changed. Distance would still be an issue. And I don't know if he'd be better at keeping me in the loop. I just don't see where it could really work.

Plus, and I repeat, I want to be single. I like not having to report to anyone. I like that I can look at all the boys in my class and not feel guilty for staring at the really cute ones. I went to an all-girls school for high school and I don't want to have to be a nun in college because my boyfriend doesn't go to my school.

God... and the flirting. It was fun flirting with O.U.A.T.B. today but I don't know how to make sure he isn't getting the wrong idea about what I want. It actually made me a little nauseous, worrying that he wants to get back together.

Carrie could tell me what to do. I'm convinced of it.

(The above image is of Carrie Bradshaw dining in Paris from an episode of Sex and the City.)

Once upon a time, masochism, moments

"He your boyfriend?" Dominique asked.

"Was," the young co-ed said with a wistful smile at the guy in question. "Once upon a time."

"Once upon a time," Dominique repeated, watching while the once-upon-a-time-boyfriend, leaning forward, rolled closer to the young woman. The young woman leaned into him, their foreheads almost touching as they stared into each other's eyes.

What Dominique didn't know was this was the first time the two kids saw each other since that tearful phone conversation that ended their brief, but undoubtedly intense, union.

What she also didn't know, but which you should know, is: the young co-ed was me.

And the once-upon-a-time-boyfriend... well, I still present-day love him.

I do. It's sick and it hurts.

It's like my masochistic consumption of dairy products. As much gas and nausea as I get after I eat cheese, I shovel in mega fries like I'm leaving town for a place that doesn't know to top potatoes with two kinds of cheese and yummy bacon...

That's kind of how I feel when it comes to boys. Even the best ones end up making me feel miserable.

But today, the first day I saw my once-upon-a-time-boyfriend (hereafter to be known as O.U.A.T.B.) in over 2 months and all of those feelings I had for him which have laid unresolved, the algae on the fish tank of my heart, bubbled to the surface.

I've been crying all day since then... Mostly spurred on by a certain television show which seemed to have messages for me in every episode. That's the thing... Today the universe seemed to be delivering a message I'm not sure I liked.

Even in O.U.A.T.B.'s mother's minivan after his basketball game ended, the radio seemed to telling me that I should take this player off the bench and put him back in the game. First was Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" and who can't take a hint with the delightfully outlandish performer sang "I don't wanna be friends"? Then there was Gym Class Heroes' "Cupid's Chokehold" about a wonderful girlfriend, which I know I was. Then, and boy was this the kicker, there was an ad for some club event for which you gain free admission if you bring a picture of your hated ex to shred onstage. I laughed nonstop.

It was so easy being with him... It always was. But the thing is, when we weren't physically together, it wasn't so easy. And that's why it eventually ended.

What would be the point in trying it again if the circumstances haven't changed?

But boy, it felt so good when he put his hand on mine, his fingertips touching mine. I wouldn't let him hold it the right way because I knew I just might burst into tears if he did.

Now I wish I'd let him so I could sustain myself on the refreshed memory.

Oh, gosh, here come more tears.

Then there was the offer to go back to his house, when his mom wanted us to abandon our lunch plans because it was starting to snow. Only I couldn't because I have an interview first thing in the morning to be an RA next fall. I'm thinking it was a blessing in disguise. If I'd have gone with them, and if he'd have shown any interest in being "us" again, I would have said yes.

The truth is, I've been really happy on my own since we broke up. I'm more independent, I've taken drastic steps towards making my dreams happen. I have become so much happier with myself. And I like it this way.

But while sometimes it seems easier not to be attached to someone or make the effort to share my life with someone else, I miss those happy times I shared with the only really special guy I have ever dated.

Today, for a brief moment we had it again, and although it makes me cry, I'm glad to have had that moment.

(The above is an image of Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw and Chris Noth as Mr. Big in Sex and the City: The Movie.)

Here's to my really special ones

Yin yang.

It's a Chinese philosophy that states "opposing forces are interconnected and interdependent in the natural world, giving rise to each other in turn." That's according to Wikipedia.

My creative writing professor, Jeff Bender, said it is the concept that in our lives, we are looking for or are meant to connect with someone whose strengths make up for our weaknesses.

Bender offered up his one-time professor Walter Kirn's novel Up in the Air as an example. He explained how the protagonist's goal was to earn 1,000,000 frequent flier miles, while his need was to make a connection. Bender even quoted the tagline of the lauded feature film starring George Clooney which reads like this: "The story of a man ready to make a connection."

This all circled back to this yin yang theory of life, or of connections or of romance.

Bender asked for further examples and my classmate Jake rambled on, his bony hands flailing around and occasionally coming together like a steeple, about some work he'd read where the main character was so good at everything that he failed at relationships.

This, Jake said, was an example of the yin yang theory.

Bender agreed with this assessment.

And so I sat there listening to this discussion -- me, the girl who has never had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day -- worrying that I would fall victim to this yin yang theory... That I, who want the world and which I seem to possess by outside estimation, would end up alone because I had no weaknesses.

It's just about the shittiest feeling -- like you've suddenly aged 30 years and can feel the only other living thing in your life weaving in and out of your legs, purring for attention.

I almost purred for attention right there in room 1123 of Anderson Hall.

(Note to self: Never own your own cat. Don't even cat-sit for friends.)

I don't understand it. And by it, I mean two things: (1) that a life can feel so meaningless when there wasn't a second life committed to it and (2) that seemingly everyone could be so single-minded about the measure of a life's worth while bashing singles.

It's not that I cannot connect with others. Just this week, I had the chance to converse with two of my inspirations (Abigail Bruley, music and fashion editor at two.one.five magazine, and Tim Whitaker, former editor of Philadelphia Weekly and current executive director of the non-profit Mighty Writers) and engaged in intelligent, friendly conversation with them.

And other good things have happened to me. I have gotten assignments from two magazines and I have just had my first fashion column for The Temple News published. Plus, my relationships with my family members are going swimmingly. Ooh, and I've got at least two good friends and a plan to meet for coffee with a new girl who very well may become a good friend.

Everything I could hope for seems to be happening to me... except making a romantic connection.

I could be totally content with that if the GODDAMN universe would stop telling me that I'll end up a lonely spinster for an ever-changing list of reasons.

Watching Sex and the City tonight -- my not-so secret Secret Single Behavior -- I couldn't help but scrawl on a Post-it these words: "The fact is, sometimes it's hard to walk in a single woman's shoes. That's why we need really special ones now and then. To make the walk a little more fun."

Carrie Bradshaw really gets it.

Maybe slipping on a pair of really special shoes will cure my blues.

Avoidance

"You cannot find peace by avoiding life" -Virginia Woolf

I'm not really sure if I agree. Then again, I guess it's easy to confuse avoidance with acceptance.

Push comes to shove

So I have another little dirty confession: I'm lusting after a taken boy.

I know, I know. It's so wrong.

But he's the one who took to calling me by the nickname my family uses -- without me telling it to him -- and he's the one who smiles, real big, every time he sees me on the elevator or in the dining hall.

Therefore, can I really be to blame?

I guess the thing I can be blamed for is wanting to give him a gentle push toward a friendship -- and maybe one day more should he ever lose the ball and chain -- and for almost acting on that urge.

I do this.

Even with Mr. Athlete, who probably still doesn't remember my name.

Almost every time I see a glimmer of a romantic possibility, I get the urge to nudge, needle and push the boy toward liking me, toward making a move. And it almost always bites me in the ass.

Because while a guy who rarely or never receives encouragement rarely or never makes a move, guys seem to be really touchy about how much of a push you can give them. But they're hardly ever clear on where a girl is supposed to draw the line.

I mean really, when does push come to shove?

From now on, in the case of Attached Boy, and in most every other case, I'm going to try not to even nudge. You can push and shove all you want. From now on, if a guy cares enough about me, he can make the moves!

(You'll have to pardon the picture of Charlotte York and Harry Goldenblatt from Sex and the City, which was totally self-indulgent on my part since they've got nothing to do with this post. I've just been watching the episodes when they first started dating.)

The Law of Ex's

I have a dirty little confession.

I don't know how to be friends with an ex. Or even a we-were-barely-together-so-you're-hardly-my-ex-ex.

I've never had to be. The first boy I ever even came close to calling a boyfriend broke my heart so many times that I blocked him on every social networking website in the World Wide Web.

The second -- and he was bookended by the first clueless jackass -- dumped me after two and half days. By text message. For his ex-girlfriend. After the pictures of him and her kissing were put up the same day, and my sister helped me craft a deliciously wicked letter for him, it was cyanara, sucka! This one once attempted a friendship and I couldn't carry on with it. It disgusted me to look at his Facebook page.

Since him, another flame -- this one, weak, at best -- who I dumped because I just wasn't feeling him (especially given that he was given to talking about 'our' future and 'our' future made me want to vomit), did call me months later on my birthday to wish me a happy one but a few months after that, was tonguing my ex-best friend. Yeah, no meaningful friendship there.

Hmm, well the next one on the list... Him I want to be friends with. I need to be friends with him. When we were together, he was my best friend. I honestly, even if it was foolish, thought maybe, just maybe, I might actually marry him someday...

But how do you do it?

What are the rules? If you broke up with them, are you allowed to initiate conversation? And even if he starts it, do you need to watch what you say -- being careful not to brag about how great your life may be or having to hide just how bad it is sometimes because you don't want him to gloat that you didn't choose him and you got the short end of the stick?

And even if you're regularly holding friendly conversations -- and this is an 'if' cause it's never happened to me -- do you have to be careful to not write or say "you must catch me up on what I've missed" since you broke up with him and if you really cared about his life wouldn't you be part of it like you once were?

Seriously. Am I over-analyzing?

Instead of the theory of relativity, why couldn't Einstein have come up with the Law of Ex's? Someone just give me a concrete formula to follow.

God, then again, what about those times when you don't want anything to do with the other person, but he or she does and you're too chicken to just be honest? That's the worst I find -- only made more troubling by Facebook. I'm starting to believe that Facebook was created by someone who wanted to haunt an ex-girlfriend. Even when you're minding your own business, playing FishVille, and you decide to send your 20-something cousin a corral reef as a gift, you see his face. The face you're not sure you want to see.

And you can't delete him off your friends list because he's got your AIM screenname and he'll probably just IM you and ask why you deleted him. God, and you can't delete his phone number from your cell because what if he calls or texts and you answer unaware and yet you've got to see his name every time you scroll through your phone.

In one of these cases, it's simply the problem of being afraid to be mean but wanting to be. In the other, it's the case of worrying I'll look like a snobby bitch and really not wanting to. Don't look at me like that, like I just repeated myself. They're different scenarios, I promise.

Wonder Woman's plight: Loneliness

Wonder Women -- girls who, like me, want a lot (successful careers, meaningful friendships, satisfying family and home lives) and have every capability of making these things reality -- essentially set men up to fail. How can any guy measure up to Wonder Women, being as smart, sexy and funny as we are? They can't. And we're lonely because of it.

Maybe I just need Dr. Melfi

What if the thing you're supposed to want (i.e. a relationship) is at odds with your very personality? Unless its just that not having it has made it feel unnecessary...

Truly, I do sometimes wish that I had someone in my life who would help me shoulder my burdens -- even just temporarily -- by supporting me, listening when I need to talk it out, offering advice that would be beneficial to me. It occurred to me as I sit here, writing this, that I just described a therapist, but for the longest time, I've plastered the word "Boyfriend" above that description.

There's definitely something wrong here.

(The above image is of James Gandolfini as Tony Soprano and Lorraine Bracco as Dr. Melfi in The Sopranos.)

Stop drinking. Be thankful for what you had.

I got to thinking today about beginnings and endings and those things that time and emotional distance make us forget: the middles. Most things start well, most end unpleasantly if not badly or bitterly. What should determine the tone of your memories is the middle of the thing. This has given me a kind of peace tonight.