Life is not always pretty.

I've been wondering if I should blog about the not so pretty side of life. I think I'm going to throw caution to the wind on this one and go for it. 

I took a picture in Omaha at the concert I went to. Two couples were acting affectionately towards each other, holding hands, kissing, and generally being touchy feely and grabby.

I blogged in the past about how I want a love like that. 

On this trip, I did not have a love like that. In fact, I had just watched someone walk out of my life.

After I took that picture in Omaha, I went to the bathroom and threw up. 

Life is not always pretty. 

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I think me getting sick was a combination of things. I'm going to blame anxiety, a relationship ending, a sinus infection and a touch of the flu. All of those things hit me at once, and when I saw people around me kissing and being happy, I couldn't take it anymore. 

The funny thing is that at the concert, I knew I was going to get sick. I walked to the nearest bathrooms, and a guy told me the bathrooms were closed and that I'd have to go to another floor. 

Um, dude, have you ever tried to throw up on command before?

I rushed downstairs. I fell down the last few stairs. I made it to the bathroom in time, stood in line for a few minutes, and then did my thing. 

I ended up staying in Omaha an extra day because I was so sick I couldn't move.

(For the record, the only drink I had was a Pepsi.)

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In that moment, I honestly did not believe that I'd ever be that girl at a concert that would be snuggling up next to someone. 

I've had that in the past. Will I have it again in the future?

I have no idea.

When my last relationship ended, I was okay with it. He didn't like to travel, so when I went to Oklahoma and was front row at a concert, I silently thanked him for dumping me. If he hadn't, I wouldn't have experienced that concert.

But this relationship was different. 

I thought to myself sitting at the concert that I'd much rather be doing absolutely nothing with him in Kansas...but that's not how life ended up. 

Instead, I drove through a winter storm by myself, went to two concerts by myself and fixed a broken headlight kind of by myself (I had some help with that one). 

I am perfectly capable of surviving and traveling on my own. 

But how much more alone can one person take?

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One of the things I enjoyed the hell out of in Omaha was the fact that the crowd liked the break up songs the best. Specifically, they loved Over When It's Over and Record Year. 

(I swear I'm going to get a Record Year tattoo one of these days.)

I blogged about one of these songs in the past: Damn it baby, damn it.  I wrote that in 2016, after a relationship that I was in tanked. 

It drives me crazy that I'm pretty successful in life, but I have yet to be in a successful relationship. It drives me crazy that men start relationships with me and then decide one day they don't want me anymore. 

It drives me crazy that my opinion on the matter makes no difference. 

From my 2016 blog post: 

It wasn’t my choice. I didn’t even have a say in it.

Yeah it’s over

Yeah it’s over

And that’s probably the worst feeling in the world.

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From a 2015 blog post: Stay

I was thinking about this last night.

After my friends get married, a few months after the ceremony and reception, I always ask them how they knew they married the right person.

I'm single and prospecting, as one of my co-workers put it this morning (ha, ha). I ask my friends that question because I don't know the answer.

My oldest and best friend had my favorite answer. I remember that conversation like it happened yesterday.

We were sitting in a garage last summer, playing with dogs. I was talking about my personal life - which doesn't happen very often - and I remember specifically what she said to me on how she knew she picked the right person to marry.

"He stayed."

It's a simple answer.

All you have to do is find someone who will stay? I always thought there was some unknown magic trick to love (or something like that...).

It turns out that nope, there's no magic trick or formula.

All they have to do is stay.

Last summer, I thought that answer was bullshit. There has to be some way to know, I thought. 

I get it now. Staying is important.

One of the consequences and side effects of being human is finding a person who won't stay.

When I look at my married friends, how happy they are and how their spouses blend seamlessly into our group of friends, I have a little glimmer of hope.

Eventually, someone will stay.

Eventually.

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I wish this blog post had a happy ending but it doesn't.

One day I was with someone and the next day I wasn't. 

One day I was planning concerts and road trips to take with him and then the next day he was no longer a part of my life.

How do you get over it? 

How long does the pain last?

Jesus stick.

For the past few days I've been in Nebraska at a farm show for work.

At every farm show I go to I see people wandering around with walking sticks.

Yesterday morning while roaming around the show, an old man stopped me and asked me if I wanted a walking stick.

Sure, I said. Why not?

He told me I'd have to listen to his story. His story involved being inside of a tent and dry grass, so I figured it wouldn't be bad.

Might I tell you that it was 45 degrees and raining yesterday in Nebraska? And that dirt roads in those conditions turn into mud soup?

Going into a tent seemed like a good idea.

The old man sat me down with a couple of other older men. He was part of a Christian organization, and he explained that life is short and can end at any second.

You don't have to tell me this, especially on Sept. 11. I admired what he said and listened on.

After a few inspirational messages, he asked each of us (me and the two other gentlemen listening to him) whether we would go to heaven if we died soon.

I said, yes, I think so.

He asked me why I think that.

I said something like, well, I think I'm a pretty good person. I also go to church sometimes and try to treat people respectfully (although I mess up sometimes).

The old man got kind of agitated. That's not good enough, he said.

It's not good enough! You're not going to get into heaven just because you're a good person!

He then told me what I could do to get into heaven, but honestly I stopped paying attention. Some guy basically told me I might go to hell in 45-degree weather while I was wearing an $18 Wal-Mart coat, all because I wanted a Jesus stick.

My thought? Dude, look around. We're already in hell!

I think it's worth noting that I did get my Jesus stick after the old man prayed for my soul. Or something, like I said, I wasn't really paying attention.

And I still maintain that I'm a pretty good person with a pretty good shot at seeing those pearly gates.

So there.

Losing my mind and my car keys.

I fiercely protect my car keys when I travel out of town in my personal car.

I don't have a spare set. Every single time I leave my car and put my keys in my purse, I double check and triple check that they're there. I have my car and house keys on a big key chain that I can spot easily.

That being said, I do a terrible job of keeping track of my company car keys during business trips.

It started on Monday night. By the time I got back to my hotel room to eat dinner and unwind, it was around 8:30 p.m.

I sleep terrible in hotel rooms. At 4 a.m., I decided that three(ish) hours of sleep was enough to function and that I was going to go about my day.

I pulled out my phone and Googled local restaurants to see if they were open for breakfast.

No dice. The world is still sleeping at 4 a.m.

I waited until 6 a.m. to go get breakfast. I got ready, looked presentable, then went to grab my car keys.

Wait. There's my hotel room card, there's my jewelry, there's my cell phone.

Where are my car keys?

I tore the hotel room up looking for them. I looked in the trash cans, in my luggage, on every surface of the hotel room, in the bathroom.

They were nowhere to be found.

I even went outside near the car, looked on the ground to see if I dropped them on Monday night, and then got down on my hands and knees to look under the car.

They had magically disappeared.

I frantically called the front desk to see if anybody had found a pair of keys. They said no, but they were very nice and offered to help me look for them. I declined.

I went back to my hotel room to look again. I finally found the keys at 6:50 a.m., after almost an hour of looking.

Where were they, you ask? They were right where I left them, the same spot I searched frantically multiple times.

From now on when I go on business trips, the company car keys will be attached to my bulky personal keys.

I would lose my brain if it weren't in my head, I swear.