the best laid plans

I've said it before (and I'm sure this won't be the last time), but I'm a "planner". Almost to a fault. I'm not good at relaxing. I'm not okay with 'nothing going on'. And I'm even worse at sitting still. I just always want there to be something to do. Something to look forward to. Somewhere to go. I hate a blank calendar. Especially when there's so many opportunities to fill it.

I know this isn't always the most desirable quality for those around me. I think I tend to drive my roommate, my friends, my family and pretty much anyone on my email contact list crazy with my constant wanting to be doing something. Add to this that I'm restless. I'm anally organized. I'm all kinds of type A personality. And when you throw all of these wonderful traits together and you have on your hands the perfect combination for one high-strung girl.

But I'm working on it.

And most of the time, I think I'm getting better. Sure, you won't find me hanging out on the couch for hours on end on a Saturday or Sunday, but I have stopped inundating whatver email inboxes I can get my hands on with all sorts of requests to do this or that with me. I even made it my New Years resolution last year not to send more than one mass email a quarter. And while I think that lasted maybe until May (if I'm lucky), the point is I'm trying.

But then there's the past eighteen hours where I booked 3 flights for the fall which 'required' sending about a million emails to my college roommates about a trip to Denver, a hundred-thousand emails with my Chicago gals about grabbing our cowboy boots and heading to Austin and about eight-hundred texts with Suzzle about the IU/OSU football game. A huge search for the perfect Non-Book Book Club July event - a movie in the park. And to top it all off, a massive email to all my Chicago friends trying to coordinate a country concert in August.

It's like I'm an addict slipping back into a relapse. I can't help myself.

And just when I think I'm making progress.

Someone better take away my planner and my access to gmail.

dot dot dot

Leave it to my favorite TV obsession (or maybe second favorite, next to Criminal Minds), The Bachelorette, to provide me with just the right bait to lure me out of my month+ blogging hiatus. I may be less than inspired these days, but there's just something about Bentley that makes me (and just about every girl in America) want to comment. And by comment I mean scream you're a jerk! every time he opens his mouth.

Now, I'd be withholding some incriminating evidence if I didn't admit that I pre-picked Bentley from ABC's website as my personal favorite before the season began. (What? It was important for our office pool!). I mean look at this seemingly innocent and rough-and-rugged face:

So, I guess I understood a bit when Ashley, despite being warned that Bentley was on the show for the 'wrong reasons' (my favorite over-used phrase in Bachelor(ette) history), started to get all over-the-moon for Bentley. In a situation where 24 guys were fighting for her attention and professing their love-at-first-sight for her, Bentley was the challenge. Bentley was the wild card. Bentley, therefore, was the one she wanted to win over.

I'd like to shake some sense into her if I wasn't guilty of the same thing more times than I'd like to admit.

Well, minus the 24 guys vying for my affection part.

It was clear to we, the TV viewer, though, very early on that Bentley was indeed not there for Ashley. He didn't give a hoot. But that didn't stop him from enjoying her woo-ing all over him at every chance she got. I guess when it comes down to it, we all like attention. Even if we don't necessarily like like the person we're getting it from.

Difference is the rest of us usually feel a little bad about it. Or at least don't brag about it. On national TV nonetheless.

But Bentley does.

Fast forward through countless you're a jerk! comments and you get to the first good, nobel decision we've seen Bentley make: to leave the show. Only instead of confessing that he's not feeling an ounce for Ashley of what she's feeling he decides to blame his leaving on the fact that he misses his daughter. Sick-o.

In his attempt to "console" (if I can call it that) Ashley, he insisted that they leave the goodbye with a "..." instead of a "." You're a jerk! While this "..." meant for Bentley that he 'wouldn't mind hooking up with her every now and then' to Ashley it meant that things were unfinished. Feelings were unsaid. There was still hope.

And hope, I unfortunately know, isn't always a good thing.

I've come to realize that in this crazy world of dating and boy-and-girls and love and things-that-feel-sort-of-like-love, there isn't anything worse than the "...". It's not fair to give them out in hopes of sparing someone's feelings. And it sucks, quite frankly, to have them handed to you. Only, the worst part is, it doesn't suck at the time. At the time you want anything but a period. Anything but something definite. Anything but the end.

Only later, when you're living in the "..." do you realize how bad it really is.

Wikipedia (yeah, I realize that comes out of left field) says that "when placed at the end of a sentence, the ellipsis can also inspire a feeling of melancholy longing." Melancholy longing. Emotional purgatory. Frankly, it's the pits.

So while you annoy me about 85% of the time, Ashley, I can't help but commiserate with you on this. Bentley, of all people (you'll realize when you watch the show yourself, girl), didn't need to leave you with a "...". Everyone deserves better than that.

But, man, I'm going to miss that Bentley commentary...

Yes, that "..." is intentional. After all, I'll be longing for it every Monday night.