Proof that change is good

One year ago today, I was in a completely different place -- literally and any other way you can say the word. I graduated college on May 13th of last year. I had gone through college intending to be a TV reporter for three of the four years I was there. I had also been dating the same guy, Brad, for three of the four years I was there.

Brad was born in California, but he went to high school in Texas. He was like no other person I'd ever met. He was always always always thinking. My friends said I always smiled, and they said that Brad never smiled. We were total opposites. But I loved our story: We met freshman year in the dorms ... in a fire drill. We realized later that we'd both had crushes on each other most of the year. He had a "top 5" list of girls at OU, and I was number 2 on his list. Number 2!!! It seemed crazy to me that a guy I thought was so attractive would have a top five list that I would be anywhere near being on. OU was famous for its pretty girls. There was no shortage of sorority girls who could grace the pages of a Victoria's Secret catalog. But I was number two. He said he had always seen me on campus and in the cafeteria. What drew him to me, he said, was the fact that I was always smiling and laughing. And the fact that I was never alone -- usually even with a group. Oftentimes, with a group of guys -- dorky ones. This made sense, since after band practice we'd all hit the cafeteria at the same time. Most of my friends were guys, and I hated being by myself. The two times I ever went to the cafeteria alone, I didn't eat alone: The first time, I met a girl in line and ate with her; the second, I found people I knew inside and sat with them.

Brad and I were different in every way possible: He was a rebel in high school; I was nominated "teacher's pet" in the Who's Who of my senior class. He went to a Catholic private school; I went to a public school. He was Catholic; I was Baptist. He had never lived in a city small enough to not have a team in the NFL until Norman, where OU was; Norman was the biggest place I'd ever lived, coming from a town of 18,000. He smoked pot, drank and partied; I was still a goodie-goodie. (I went to parties, but I didn't drink. I said I didn't have to be drunk to have fun, so what was the point?) He had four siblings and a half-brother; I had my one younger brother. But we did both like to write. After I switched my major, we were both journalism majors. Naturally, we had very different writing styles. He hated TV news; I wanted to be a TV reporter. He hated Abercrombie; I worked there. He thought band was for geeks; I was in the band. He said I was a hot dork, but that was one of the things he liked most about me.

We fought a lot, and we broke up a billion and one times. We were both constantly asked why we were together. His friends liked me when it was just me. But when it was all of us -- Brad included -- in a party atmosphere, they thought I was the fun police or something. Brad always managed to go off and do something stupid or screw up plans or something, and we would wind up in a fight and the guys would think I ruined the night by being angry. There were a few times, though, that even they got mad at Brad for what he did and told him that he didn't deserve me.

I got annoyed after three and a half years of other people feeling I owed them some explanation about why I loved Brad. The thing was, he knew me better than anyone else in the world. I told him things I never thought I'd tell anyone. I was comfortable with him. And I hated change. Brad was also there for me through the worst thing I've ever gone through in my life -- my parents' divorce. It wasn't the divorce that was so hard, but the fact that my mom went on an emotional rollercoaster through it, and she called me two and three times a day, forcing me to go on it with her. I got to the point where I told her I couldn't listen to what she was telling me, that I couldn't help her because (1) it was my parents' relationship she was talking about, (2) I didn't break it, so I couldn't fix it, (3) I've never been married, and I don't have chidren, and (4) she needed to talk to her friends about those things -- not me. Sometimes, I would finally get through to her, and she would apologize and say she'd try harder. Then, a few days later, back to the rollercoaster ride. So I started getting angry at her. I would say terrible things to her and tell her I had too much to deal with to add that to it. I told her she made me feel like the parent.

Then, one day after we'd gotten into a fight, my mom did something really stupid. She almost died, and she told me a couple months later she wouldn't have done what she did had we not gotten in the fight (I told her to f--- off, a phrase not usually in my vocabulary, and said she couldn't blame her stupid decision on me.). When I found out, I rushed back home and called Brad along the way. He met me at a gas station and came with me to the hospital. I figured there would come a time when I'd sit and cry for days and days, but it never happened. Only a handful of times did it hit me, and I'd cry for about five minutes, and Brad was there each time. The hardest thing was the next time I had to go home after that. It was for Thanksgiving. I was anxious the day before and all the morning of the day I was leaving, but when it came time for me to go I finally figured out I felt so off because I didn't want to go. I went to Brad's and just cried for a while, and I felt better. I went home, and things went okay.

I wasn't close to ER yet, and CG had transferred to college in Lawton by then, so it was hard for her to really help on the phone, but she tried. My roommates (there were three) were either selfish or too weird about the whole situation (One kept telling me, "Jesus loves you." I didn't know what to say to that. The other one, who I'd known since kindergarten, kept saying, "Aww... awww..." -- not exactly what you want to hear.) to help. Brad was the only one who was really there. That meant a lot to me.

Brad had always planned on going back to California, and I'd known that from the beginning. He had wanted me to go with him. I told him it'd be crazy -- neither of us knew how the other was in California. Being there could make us both completely different people. I'd only been to California twice, but never to San Diego. I told him if I went out there, it would only make sense to get engaged, and we both knew that we'd be crazy to get married because we'd get a divorce. We knew we didn't go together. And I didn't want to start my life after college following him on his dream.

So one year ago today, I said goodbye to Brad. We packed up his car and he drove off to San Diego. I stayed in Norman, still unsure of where I was going or what I'd be doing. I said goodbye to the job I'd had on campus all four years I was at OU. I kept my job I'd had for almost a year as a carhop at Sonic (it was pretty good money with tips!). I spent my time off applying for jobs I could find in any state I didn't think it would suck to live in (California, the Carolinas, Florida, Texas, Illinois, etc.). The only things I knew about the future were that I was going to CG's on May 26th to help her get ready for her wedding, and my apartment lease ended July 31.

I had just gotten to Lawton to meet CG, who was running behind, when I got a call from the man who is now my boss asking if I'd like to interview. I scheduled an appointment for the following week. I met K at CG's wedding. I did well at the interview, and I landed a job better than I thought I'd ever get out of college.

I moved to Dallas and found a great apartment. I went from having three roommates to living by myself. I have new furniture, since my apartment in Norman was furnished. I have my own bathroom for the first time in my life. Being alone doesn't bother me as much anymore, but I still won't go out and eat alone (why bother, when I can just get it to go?).

I sold my crappy '98 Cavalier that had over 108,000 miles and bought a 2003 Honda Accord -- OU red -- with just under 20,000 miles on it (although I've almost doubled that already with all my trips to see K). I finally got my car with a sunroof. :) It would be nice to save my $300 bucks a month, but I love my car.

I turned 22. I have a practically new wardrobe, since it is consisting more and more of work clothes. I am in a much better relationship than I thought I'd ever be in with a guy who I really do think is absolutely perfect for me. I am ready to marry him.

It's insane how much life can change in less than 365 days. For someone who hates change as much as I do, it's so nice that a lot of them can be really good, and sometimes even just what you needed. Besides, 22 always was my lucky number!