Spring Break Recap

I know, I know. But better late than never, right?

Here is South Padre Island Spring Break 2006 in a nutshell:

Number of hours it took to get from San Antonio (where all the El Paso people picked me up) to our hotel on Padre: 7
Number of hours it probably should have took: 4 1/2 (Why it took so long? I have no freakin' idea. We stopped. A lot. Eleven people traveling together is not exactly conducive to doing anything quickly or easily).
Number of days I was in various stages on the Buzzed-to-Drunk scale literally from the time I woke up in the morning until I went to bed at night: 4
Number of beers I drank daily on the beach: I have no idea because I always lost count somewhere around number 3 or 4 and then continued to beer bong long past that point.
Number of times I got really drunk and ran into the ocean with all of my clothes on: Once, at 3 in the morning on our first night there. About six or seven of us all ran into the ocean fully dressed. And it may have just been because I was really drunk, but it was one of the most fun moments of my life so far. The moon was shining, it was all cold and exciting, and for a few minutes I felt like I could do anything in the world and that I could get anything I wanted. I then went back to the hotel and showered with all of my clothes on, figuring what the hell, that would get all the salt out of them and get them clean. I'm still thanking god that I somehow had the presence of mind to take my cell phone out of my pocket before I went into the ocean.
Number of days it took my jeans to dry out completely after the swimming-in-the-ocean-in-the-middle-of-the-night fiasco: 3
Number of times Matt, Bob, or Luis said things that made me laugh so hard I almost died: 53, at least
Number of times we almost got our asses kicked by scary Mexican gangster guys at Taco Bell because Bob was being obnoxious and Matt felt like picking a fight: Once
Number of clubs we went to for dancing and ENORMOUS house drinks: 3
Number of free tank tops I got: 2. One came from the condom booth on the beach (it says "Trojan Hottie" and I wear it proudly), and the other one Luis stole out of a box at a club when he was drunk
Number of times Carla and I stood in the freezing cold ocean having long conversations about how stupid guys can be: 3
Number of times I got so drunk I passed out: NONE!! I was so proud of myself! Sure, I was buzzed the entire time I was there, but I can honestly say that each time I fell asleep it was through a conscious choice. Go me.
Number of times Mike got so drunk he passed out and then lay on the bed blowing spit bubbles in his sleep: Once. And I took pictures!
Number of times I had to sleep on the floor: Only once! We only had four beds and 11 people, so 8 people got beds and everyone else had to sleep on the floor.
Number of times this girl named Sarah that was part of our group went absolutely fucking psycho, had a fight with her best friend Rachel that included throwing Rachel to the ground and slamming all the hotel room doors with superhuman strength and the shouting of the words, "I'm nice! And I'm HOT!", and then packed up all her stuff and left the hotel still wearing nothing but her bikini and dragging her suitcase behind her, never to be seen again the rest of the trip: Once (And just so you don't think we're completely irresponsible, awful people, she did have other friends on the island and we figured she had gone to stay with them. Sure enough, the next day on the beach some guy she was friends with came up to us and said she was fine, so it's not like we left her to wander the island aimlessly and get raped or murdered. We're not that uncaring)
Number of sleeping bags that Matt "allegedly" peed on in his sleep: One (and there was no "allegedly" about it!)
Number of times Luis sang that godawful, "Rompe, rompe, rompe!" song: about 90
Number of people getting wasted on Coca-Cola Beach every day: Approximately equivalent to the entire population of the state of Wyoming. That's a hell of a lot of people on one beach.
Number of times I got really sad and honestly wanted to go back to Austin: Only once, after I left a club in anger and came back to the hotel by myself and Mike didn't care enough about my safety to follow me or even call to check if I was okay. I'm still pissed about that whenever I think about it, so I'm gonna change the subject rapidly now.
Number of times I thought, "This is fun, I'm so glad I decided to come after all.": Way more than once (thank god!)
Number of resolutions I made before going to Padre: 3. And they were 1) Don't cry, 2) Don't get so drunk you throw up, and 3) Don't fool around with Mike no matter how drunk he is because he has a girlfriend now.
Number of those resolutions I broke: 2 out of 3. Which leads us to...
Number of days I broke down and cried at some point: 3. Considering that including the days we drove down and the day we left the island Mike and I spent a grand total of 6 days together, I'd say the fact that I only cried on half of them was an accomplishment. It also helps that he was at least somewhat comforting, although not nearly enough (but what the hell can I expect?) It also really helps that every time the other people I was with could tell I'd been crying, they were really sweet. They fed me gummy bears and force-fed me sandwiches (thank you, Carla, I really was way too drunk and needed that sandwich, BADLY), and said things like, "You can do so much better. You're really hot and Hash...well...trust me, you can do better," and, "He loves you, he's just being stupid right now. She'll do something flakey and he'll come back to you, I know it" and, "You're the best girl he could ever be with, and if he doesn't realize that then he's an idiot," and, "We love you and we don't think you're crazy." I don't necessarily believe (or want to believe) some of those things, but the fact that they were coming from his friends who definitely should have been on his side and not on mine meant a lot.
Number of times Mike and I fooled around: 3. And only two of those times were because we were drunk. The third time it happened in the middle of the night after we'd stopped drinking at about 5 in the afternoon, so he can't blame that third time on being drunk. There's a lot I could say about how I feel about that, but it would be another entry entirely and I just don't feel like getting into it right now. At least he told his girlfriend that it happened. At least he's honest with her. I'd hate to think that of all the things that have happened/changed recently he's become a cheating liar, because he's not that kind of guy.

Anyway, all in all I guess I was glad I ended up going. I'm obviously still not convinced that Mike and I can be "just friends", but we had a pretty good time all things considering.

Since then I've continued to have ups and downs about how I feel about him. I still wish more than anything that he was with me, but I'm also realizing that there's absolutely nothing I can do to make that happen. And deep down I know that if he loves this other girl enough to actually want to stay with her, then he was never supposed to be the guy I'm going to spend my life with in the first place. There's no such thing as "the man you were supposed to be with" because if you were supposed to be with him, YOU WOULD BE. Maybe my relationship with Mike really has run its course. Or maybe by this time next year we'll be back together again. Or maybe by this time next year I'll have a new boyfriend and I'll only talk to Mike once a month to see how he's doing. Who the hell knows? I hate the not knowing, but I also know that there's nothing I can do about it.
I like to plan everything out as much as possible, but I'm trying to take the relationship portion of my life day by day for now. It's still hard and I'm still unhappy, but I know it will get better somehow. Mike and I will get a chance to really try being together, or I'll find someone that is such a fun match for me that for the rest of my life I'll laugh about how stupid I was to ever think I could spend my life with Mike. Either way it's going to work out okay in the end, I'm just not to that end point yet. In the meantime, I'm only 23. And even though I'm in the perfect position to be in a relationship right now, that doesn't necessarily mean that I need to be.

HBO told me in a commercial yesterday that "Everything worth having comes back eventually." So that's my new mantra. If he doesn't come back around, he was never worth having in the first place.

Last night I had a very vivid dream that I was picking out a variety of colorful candy and putting it in a bag to take home from a hotel I had been staying at. There was gummy candy, rock candy, cherry sours, jelly beans, on and on, and I was grabbing handfuls of it all and tasting everything and laughing with the unknown guy who was helping me pick out all the best stuff. I woke up still thinking about the dream. And while I don't put a lot of stock in dream decoding, I have to admit that it made me really happy to read that dreaming about candy is a "positive prophecy" and means that soon everything that is troubling me will be resolved.