There Were Two in the Bed and the Little One Said Get the Fuck Out

For all my talk about dating and being in a relationship, I wonder if I actually even want to be in one at all. I like the idea in theory, but I'm so out of practice, I could be wrong. I mean I have a routine. It's my way or the highway and if you choose the highway I'll run you over with my car. I like the way things are now. If I brought someone else in then I'd probably have to accommodate them and I don't want to do that.But more importantly, I do not like sharing the bed. I move around a lot and like to sprawl, probably because I overheat easily.If I can't even share a bed, how can I share my life??

new girl i sing to myself

I haven't even lived in the same place for more than a year since I turned 18 seven years ago. Different dorms, different universities, different apartments. Everything was in a constant state of flux, but I think I wouldn't have minded staying in the same place for a couple of years. The only problem was the roommate situation.There is nothing inherently good about living with someone else. Best case scenario is that they have nice stuff they'll share with you. Unless of course YOU are the one sharing and THEY are taking. And taking. Andtakingandtakingandtaking and never giving back.But that's not even so bad. The worst thing about living with someone else is that they're around whenever they want. Even if you don't want. And I rarely want. The longest I've lived with another person is two years. It only happened once, against my better judgment, and it was awful.The only person I can count on is my cat.

But even our relationship is precarious at best. Like when she's meowing at me to pet her and love her but I'm trying to focus on finishing my large cheese pizza. But it's also pretty annoying when she shits on my carpet and pees on my bed.

Ok I mean that bed peeing thing only happened the first couple of months that I got her. But I was ready to turn her out on the streets. Honestly, one of the reasons why I got her instead of a kitten is because she's old and I know she'll die in a reasonable amount of time. Like 5 years tops.

How people my age are already reproducing ON PURPOSE is beyond me.AND THEN, just when I think I have it all figured out, some unreasonably hot guy strikes up a conversation with me at the grocery store as the sweat from my workout is drying and a new sweat mustache is forming. I'd forgotten a bobby pin so my bangs are all askew and I'm wearing my glasses, my makeup basically all melted off at that point.I basically looked like a monster.For some reason he asked for my number and then actually used it.I don't know. I don't get it. I give up.

At Least My Cat Loves Me

I haven't been writing much lately and it's because all things considered, my life is going well right now. Great new job, riding horses, volunteering, graduate school, friends, and no one in my family is recently dead or anything like that. But why focus on the positive when I can focus on the negative? The negative being that after a year and a half of being single and all alone, I am still single and ALL ALONE. Besides my parents and my friends and my siblings. Whatever. None of them fill that penis shaped hole inside of me.But the real reason I haven't been writing is because my parents are reading this and it's their job to ruin my life. My mom gave me some "advice" like 6 months ago that still (!!!!) haunts me.No sex before monogamy.Sorry mom, but seriously, it's not the 40s anymore and what do you know? You got that advice from a reality show.So anyway, I was just feeling bummed every which way about the fact that there's something about me that just makes me completely unlovable to attractive, well-adjusted straight men. For a while I was trying to figure it out, like hey, I know I'm not perfect and it's completely reasonable that there might be something I might need to change. So I ran through the list of things that are maybe just "too much" for other people.

  • Too smart
  • Too pretty
  • Boobs are too big
  • Too good in bed
  • Too funny
  • Too personable
  • Too endearingly awkward
  • Too driven
  • Too good with animals
  • Too many positive qualities
  • Too crazy

WHAT OH WHAT COULD IT BE? Oh right, it's that last one. I don't like to use the word crazy when referring to women though, so instead I'll say I'm emotionally spastic instead.

kim k all alone

But like, if you're gonna date a girl, I'm pretty sure that's a given, and considering all my other qualities, I'm really the best deal you're going to get. Yet somehow I'm STILL ALONE while there are great guys dating awful girls. I mean like controlling, condescending, rude, manipulative, mean girls. And here I am, all aloney on my owny, sitting on my bed of spinsterhood with my cat next to me.Even she runs away when I try to cuddle with her.I mean so what if I expect a date to be planned an entire day ahead of time? Or if I only text a guy that I'm casually seeing every few days? I know it's a bit much to start to have feelings for someone after a single date, but what can I say...I'm just completely un-fucking-reasonable.But hey, being an crazy spinster has its perks. I can eat all the S'mores Oreos and cake and ice cream I want and never have to worry about looking good naked. And then I can use my empty ice cream pints to cry my lonely cat lady tears into.

Run For Your Life

You know those slasher films, where the stupid teenagers decide to split up to go looking for a murderer? The movies where you KNOW what's going to happen and you just DON'T UNDERSTAND why those teenagers are such idiots? Well I'm pretty sure that can be applied to relationships too. Like when you see your friend making the same mistakes she always makes while you're just sitting there like WHY CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING?But then you end up in the exact same position with the most successful tunnel vision that's ever occurred in the history of mankind. We all have certain patterns that we're comfortable with which tends to cause history to repeat itself. To what extent do we try to change these habits, though? To what extent should we accept certain aspects about ourselves, rather than trying to change them, and instead make the most of what we have?At some point we're all saddled with some sort of baggage. I mean all a relationship really is is two people whose issues are compatible. Try as we might to improve our weaknesses, we're all flawed and we always will be.

Kill Your Darlings

Last night I had the most horrible nightmare and I'm going to tell you what it was. Before you roll your eyes and stop reading because NO ONE CARES ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE'S DREAMS, I preface that I'll keep it quick.I had a dream that a guy that I rejected on Ok Cupid was a fucking psycho and tried to exact his revenge by shooting me. My dream self hadn't even gone out with this guy. I hadn't even officially turned him down. I merely decided that I wasn't interested. So his reaction was to bring a gun into the house/college campus/store/wherever my dream self was. I'm assuming that his intention was to murder me, but things got a little murky after that.That's what I get for watching the Doctor Who Christmas Special before bed.I deactivated my account about a month ago during my writing workshop for school. It didn't hurt that I was also only interested in Quantum Physics. However, I'm no longer as busy and the account is back! It's now tinged with fear, but I shall persevere. Plus things didn't work out with Quantum Physics and I needed to distract myself.

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It's too bad because I really liked him. I don't mean "really" in the sense that I super liked him a whole bunch. I mean it in the sense that my feelings were genuine. Why him out of all the guys I've met over the past few months? He possessed most of the qualities I had on my check list, but that wasn't it. Those things don't magically make two people compatible, you know?It was that look. The look that two people share when something is there between them. It's that something that can't really be explained unless you're a complete stick in the mud and use science. It's a question on their part and an acknowledgment on yours. It's a secret that you create without a word. It's the seed of something bigger. It can create an entire world that belongs to just the two of you.The first time it happened was at the end of our coffee date, after he finally shut his mouth about science long enough for me to tell him I needed to move my car. With him feeling sheepish for blabbing about physics and space for like an hour and me feeling like an airhead for having nothing to contribute, we caught each other's eyes and that was that.It happened a few more times, enough for me to believe he did like me. I hope he did, if only to confirm that the wires connecting my instinct, logic, and feelings haven't gotten so completely fucked up that I can't tell at all anymore.That look isn't enough to build an entire relationship on, though. It's sort of embarrassing that I had to actually experience the extent of that truth to learn it, but I did. While Quantum Physics and I turned out to be skilled at making eye contact, we weren't quite able to build that "special world." Apparently he was too busy to say hi to me once in a while. Like that is legitimately what he told me. He was too busy. No buddy, you are not too busy. You are not so busy that you can't spare 30 seconds to text me in the morning with a simple "Have a good day." I don't think that even requires 30 seconds. More like 10. Or 5.

it's not a pen, it's a principle community annie gif

He was busy, I'll give him that, but not including me in that busy schedule was his choice. If we wanted to, he could have. It's that simple. I don't know what his reasons were for not. I don't know if he was even aware of what he was doing. But he certainly didn't have any business dating if he didn't have time for it. I mean hello.When I first noticed he was less than attentive, I was tempted to ignore it. I tried convincing myself that I was the problem and needed to calm down. I wanted too much from him. He said he was busy, didn't he? I told myself that he'd get to me when he had time.

tennenbaums i doubt that gif

Of course that attitude didn't last long because I wasn't being unreasonable. Wanting a guy you're seeing to SAY HELLO once in a while is not unreasonable. Having expectations and feelings is not unreasonable. Since I'm impatient and like to say what's on my mind, I took a chance and did something crazy. I told him what I was thinking. I told him that a little more acknowledgment of my existence would be nice. And he said he'd work on it. GREAT.Well he didn't. I brought it up again a couple weeks later. He was sort of a dick about it. So that was that.I mean really, if things started to become difficult that early on, it was not going to work. Either he was going to have to compromise or I would, and it kind of felt like we were both putting that effort in (at least I was and I'll give him the benefit of the doubt, even though he definitely wasn't) and it still didn't work.One month in and it was already stressing me out. No thanks. That is definitely not the sort of relationship I want to be in. Just imagine how difficult it would be in a year or ten, let alone a lifetime. He was busy and I was undervalued. I was not clingy or needy. I was perfectly reasonable.I've been that "crazy" girl before (as inappropriate as I find the term). The one who nags because she's undervalued. The one who hears all the excuses from him and even makes them for him. The one who stays in a relationship because she's too insecure to leave, who is convinced it will get better.It was definitely the same sort of situation. Thanks but no thanks.

modern family gloria never look back gif

The Limit Does Not Exist

I finally had my second date with Quantum Physics the other night.  As usual, I use the term date loosely.  All that I'll say on the subject is that I'm glad I decided to shave my legs.We had a good time.  I don't like him as much as I thought, but I'm fine with that.  Except not really.  If I made life that simple for myself I wouldn't be a writer.  So here's the deal.  I like my life the way it is.  Unfortunately, I also like him and I want him around.  That means my life will have to change.  Possibly for the better, but still.  I like my life.  I don't want it to change.  It's not even like I want a relationship with him, because I don't like him that much (yet??) but I also don't want our good time to be one time.Great.This is the the exact same position so many of my friends have found themselves in at one point or another.  Thinking about the insightful piles of crap I've spouted in the past, I'm just amazed that none of them ever strangled me for being so level-headed and obvious.I mean it was probably because I live too far for it to be feasible, but you know.I clearly had no idea what I was talking about.  Why did they ever talk to me in the first place?  Why do I have any friends at all?  Considering what shitty advice I give, I clearly don't deserve them.  I hate myself on their behalves.  Me and my stupid logical dating wisdom.Just talk to him blah blah blah communication is important blah blah blah.  Shut up self, you don't know anything.  OF COURSE you should talk to the other person and be open about your feelings.  Literally everyone knows this.BUT WHO THE HELL ACTUALLY DOES IT?

big bang hypocrite gif

I sure know what my younger self would have done.  Panic over my feelings.  Assume that since he didn't reply to a text right away, that he's not interested in me.  Send another text to "force" him to reply.  Panic that I'm being too over eager.  Overcompensate by sending another text because THAT will DEFINITELY make things better.  Then finally get my shit together, wait, get a reply, and repeat until I have proven that I am definitely not someone that he wants to associate with further.So I'm not doing that this time.There's a reason why I've more or less sworn off guys since January.  I may know what not to do, but that doesn't mean I know what the right thing to do is.  I mean I DO know, of course.  But I also know it's not as easy as the generic Magic 8 Ball advice I always spout.All I want to do is ask him what he thinks of the new Star Wars movie trailer but since I had the last word when we were texting last night, I can't.  If I were dispelling some of my usual sage advice to a friend in the same situation, I'd say rules are for fools and do what you want.

condescending wonka gif

Oh yeah?  How's that working out for ya now Zo?  Huh?

  

Would You Rather

I thought that unwanted makeout sessions were awkward.Well, they are, but I've found a situation that gives that one a run for its money.The scene:  Your date went well, but in a friendly way.  You think it's possible that there could be more, possibly worth pursing on a second date, but not well enough to already know that you want to make future plans.  You think about the end of the night kiss, of course, because despite my mother's surprise, kissing on the first date is fairly commonplace.You know, of course, that just by questioning whether you want to kiss this guy means that you don't and that you shouldn't.  But if he goes in for it you'll be okay, you guess.  And, well, given your brief but varied dating history, that chances are that he will go in for the kiss, because of course.AND THEN HE DOESN'T AND IT GETS WEIRD.You both know what's supposed to happen.  But it's not happening.  And neither of you know what to do, because you both know that you both know what's supposed to happen, which means that despite knowing, neither of you have done what you're supposed to do.  Knowing what you both know, you CAN'T kiss now, because you'd know that you only did it because you were supposed to, despite possibly actually wanting to.Instead, you verbally, though indirectly, acknowledge what didn't happen and what was possibly supposed to happen.  You say maybe next time and then run away.  Because you are you, and in this case you is actually me.  In case you didn't get that.  I am not a cool person, despite what my leather jacket collection would have you believe.awkward kristen stewart gif

So tell me. Would you rather:

be part of the most awkward first kiss ever

OR

the aforementioned catastrophe?

harry hermione potions gif

Thus With A Kiss I Die. Again. And Again.

And we're kissing now.  Okay.  Guess he missed the point of my pointed awkward hug, huh?  At least he's not terri- that hand better not move any further.  Smart boy.  Oh aaand he's pulling me closer.  And there's the tongue.  We could not have read this night more differently.Ok bye."I'll definitely be seeing you again," he said.OH WILL YOU NOW?

umm no ru paul gif

This was the guy who rode horses.  The equestrian from Pasadena.  Taking a page from Rory Gilmore's book, I created a mental pro/con list.  I had a good enough time.  I didn't go in expecting much.  He made several stupid/douchey comments throughout our conversation which I overlooked in favor of not killing myself, but when we parted ways I began to notice just how much of a jackass he really was.

Oh, your parents are both from Missouri, which means you're not the stereotypical L.A. douche?

regina george shut up gif

Yeah, it turned out to really just be a con list.


I went out with a guy who grew up in Portland.  Maine.  Oh, he also grew up in fucking France I guess.  When did we go out?  Wednesday I think?  What's today?  Saturday.  God this is exhausting.Yeah, turns out that agreeing to go out with someone just because they're from Maine is not a good idea.  I mean I was also impressed that he was finishing writing a book and had just graduated from Cambridge.  I was like ooh, he's fancy and smart and TALL.No.Despite not actually being British, he represented the stuffy stereotype like he was getting paid for it.  I think that part of the problem was that he was old.  30 I think.  Which isn't even old unless you're a pseudo-Brit.Apparently I'm mature for my age, at least in some regard.  Like, middle-aged Uber drivers are my favorite because we have the best conversations about life.  One guy even gave me his card to keep in touch.  He was partly impressed by me because I was so coherent for being so drunk.A true sign of intelligence.All of the friends that I've made since college have been older than me, at least by a year, but most of them by several.  I tried dating a guy who was younger than me once and it was terrible.  Boys tend to mature more slowly than girls, so even a guy who's mature for his young age is still behind me.I'm so not interested in waiting around for anyone to catch up.

little house on the prairie wait for me gif

No.You'd think that an old, basically British guy would be a good fit, right?  Or something like that I guess.  But no, of course not.  Because it turns out a 30 year old British dude is the equivalent of a normal 60 year old man.Poor Kate Middleton.He didn't really want to tell me about Medieval History, the subject he likes enough to write a fucking book about, and I was over here like if someone can make me interested in Quantum fucking Physics, you can make me interested in this.  And then he was scared to give me his opinion on how Gilmore Girls is misogynistic.I can't date a stuffy old man who isn't proud of what he does and doesn't stand up for his opinions.  The end.


Ah, and then there was last night's guy.  I don't even know what to call him because there's nothing significant about him, except that I liked him.  It was the most generic date ever, which actually worked quite well.  I guess certain dates become go-tos for a reason.  A movie followed by drinks?  Bingo.We went to see the newest Hunger Games movie and it was good, but not gonna lie, I spent the entire movie thinking about the dog I played with beforehand.

turner and hooch

That dog.  The Turner and Hooch dog.  I love dogs.  A lot.  Especially mastiffs.  Especially Dogues de Bordeaux.

Is that where the goes?  Is it Dogue de Bordeauxes?  I'm pretty sure it's the same rule that applies to passers-by but who am I to say?

These are the important questions.

So, um, yeah.  My obsession with that dog didn't scare him away, so that scored him like a million points.  Umm what else is there to say?  Good dates are particularly uninteresting.  Oh, but I do have a word problem for you guys.

Zoe and Brian go out on a date.  If Brian had two beers, Zoe had one, and they both had a good time, how awkward will their first kiss be?

awk-kiss

No actually it was adorable aw yay.

Pretty Girls Make Graves

I'm relieved to report that Horrible Kissing Guy did not contact me again after our encounter.  I'm curious why he attempted to eat my face if he wasn't really into it, but maybe that's just some sort of goodbye ritual that I don't know about.  I'm not very familiar with the ways of dwarves, after all.I have to say, I'm glad that we were on the same page. I mean of course I am.  That makes life so much easier.  But I'm glad for a reason that is maybe a little less obvious.  All things considered, the date went well.  We made each other laugh.  I actually made him laugh way more than he made me, but who's counting?  The conversation was consistent.  I wasn't tempted to go to the bathroom and escape through the window.  It wouldn't have been unreasonable for either of us to request a second one.Despite all of this, somehow, neither of us were interested.  Just because I didn't feel a spark didn't guarantee that he was in the same boat, though. I can only imagine how often this is the case.  It's impossible to tell how someone else is feeling.  Sharing a decent date only makes the impossible even more difficult.What if I had been interested?  If this situation presented itself a year ago, I would be wondering why he never texted me.  After a few days of waiting, I would have texted him.  I would have told him how much fun it had been.  I would have said we should definitely do it again.  I'd try to resist the urge to text him again and again.

whitney port not thinking about him gif

I'd fail miserably at resisting that urge.I'd probably bug him for another date.  I'd want to see him again.  I'd suggest something maybe a little more interactive so we'd have more to talk about - or an excuse to talk less.  I'd create situations that would make the relationship more likely to succeed.  I'd ignore the fact that it clearly wasn't.I'm glad to report that's no longer the case.  Er, well, I think, anyway.  I haven't met anyone whom I like enough to test that theory and honestly, I don't know if I really want to.  I've gotten comfortable with my current life.  I've built a solid foundation.  I don't need anything else and I don't really want much more, either.  At least not when it comes to a relationship.  That concept is so foreign to me now.  It seems like it would be a major deviation from what I currently have, and I like what I have.  I don't think I'd want to change it.Unfortunately for me, I've made it my mission to understand the dating world.  I prefer to be actively uncomfortable trying new things rather than stuck in the old.  I'm not dating because I need or even want to be in a relationship.  I'm dating because for some reason, I've decided I want to write about it.  I can't write about a topic I know nothing about, and since I've never really done much dating, I have to put myself out there.I started with that app called Coffee Meets Bagel.  It was fine for a time but became unsatisfactory when I had momentarily convinced myself I was interested in seriously dating someone.  I moved my way up to Hinge, another dating app that is apparently similar to Tinder (which I will never, ever try), but again, found it unsatisfactory.  I mean WHAT is the point of getting matched with someone if you're not actually interested in talking to them?Fun side fact:  The hot roommate of the guy I had been dating, No Real Feelings Guy, came up on that app yesterday.  I swiped yes.  In order to get matched, he has to do the same.  Updates to follow.

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Now I'm on OkCupid.  I don't know how it happened.  It's all a blur.  It was really fun for the first few hours.  Like crazy fun.  If you ever need a quick confidence boost, online dating is really the way to go.It quickly became less fun.  Way less fun.  Now it feels like work.  Every time I get a new message, I'm momentarily excited, for like half a second, if that.  Then I'm filled with dread  There are so many people.  SO MANY PEOPLE.  And plenty of them seem really nice and actually read my profile and make a point to ask questions and create a conversation.  And so many of them I'm just not interested in.  Because I'm being shallow.  I don't even care anymore.  I want to be considerate and give everyone a chance but it's just not going to happen.  Once upon a time I thought that I didn't have a type, but I do.  I have lots of types, actually.  But I'm not attracted to everyone, and if I'm not attracted to a guy, it's not going to happen.  I feel bad about it every time and occasionally will even reply with a rejection, but still.It's difficult to not give everyone a chance.  I don't want to be that superficial person who puts so much stock in personal appearance.  I don't want to be unreasonably picky, despite knowing there's nothing wrong with having high standards.  I think that physical attraction is an important part of dating someone.   I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in that thinking, either.I mean it's not like I see a guy I'm not attracted to and immediately assume he's awful  has no value to the world.  Come on.  Further, I know there's a chance I could become attracted to someone based on the way that that they carry themselves, but in this case, that's an unrealistic expectation.  I'm not going to plan a date with someone with the hopes that I'll find them attractive once I get to know them.  I simply don't have the time.  Plus there are so many other guys out there, it's really not necessary.  I used to have that "make it work" mindset, which, need I remind you, did not work so well.The great thing about online dating is that it gives you an idea of just how many people out there you're compatible with.  I know that it still has a stigma, but so far I've found it incredibly helpful for that one specific reason.  Having an online dating profile makes it painfully obvious that there's absolutely no reason to settle for less.  No, most of these interactions won't progress beyond chatting through the app on my phone.  But these guys are nice.  They're attractive.  They're interesting and they're interested.I actually have a date later today.  With a ridiculously adorable Israeli.  At the most awkward time ever.  Late afternoon, early evening.  It's too late for coffee if I want to sleep tonight, but too early for dinner or drinks.Oh who am I kidding?  I plan my life around food and it's not like I haven't had a beer at a far more unreasonable hour.The worst part is that I'm actually really excited.

effie skins gif

  

Thus With A Kiss I Die

I'm over this whole dating thing.  I gave it a shot.  It was kind of fun.  Kind of.  By "kind of" I mean people paid for my food.  And drinks.  And I like free things.But it's just so inconsistent!  Like, you meet someone, you hit it off, and you decide to arrange a meeting in a slightly romantic setting to see if the two of you share some romantic element or something.  And you're sitting there wondering if this is just the first of many first dates or if this will actually turn into something.  Or maybe there will be a few more dates before it turns into nothing.  And you wonder how many times you'll have to go through this weirdness before you find someone who you actually like enough to love.  But the problem is that they have to be on the same level of liking, which is not as easy as it sounds.Then the guy who has caused you to wonder all of these things is short, and not like kind of short.  Like my height short.  But you reason that you can work with that, because you're trying not to be such a shallow asshole with unreasonably high standards.  And you get along with this guy pretty well, all things considered.  Well enough that you wonder if there will be a second date, but not well enough for you to really want a second date.Then he's walking you back to your car because the date went well enough that you want to spend a little extra time together but didn't actually plan anything to do and you're not in an area that you really want to spend time walking around and the whole time you're wondering what's going to happen with that end of the date kiss because it went well but not really THAT well.And then he kisses you AND IT'S HORRIBLE.

gag me gif

I don't understand how a person can be 26 and still bad at kissing.  I just don't.NOT TO MENTION the guy who dumped me just a week ago decided to TEXT ME last night before this date.How do they always know?  THEY ALWAYS KNOW.  You start moving on and their Spidey sense starts tingling and they think "hey, Zoe has a date tonight.  I should probably text her before it.  That'll really fuck with her."There must be an app for that, one that only guys know about.  The government is probably involved.He asked about my Halloween costume.  I mean it wasn't a totally stupid question; he was genuinely curious.  But he didn't have to ask.  His life would not be lacking had he not.  But he did.  Being the really nice person that I am, I told him and, being confused about what the fuck was going on, asked about his.Then he wanted to know what I've been up to.  As if my life is so exciting that I would have breaking news in the week since we last talked.  I considered sending something like  "well, I haven't slit my wrists since you dumped me, in case you were worried about that," but I felt that may be a bit too sarcastic for the situation at hand, the situation being he wants to be friends.

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I mean that's what I assume anyway.  I, however, am not so sure I want to be part of a Kumbaya singalong session with him just yet.Or ever.Sure, I dated him for a reason, and logically that means we would make good friends as well.  I wouldn't date someone that I couldn't also be friends with.  That doesn't seem very sensible.  But that doesn't mean I want to be friends with him now that the whole romance part didn't work out.  I already have friends.  I'm not so sure his friendship would provide me with anything I don't already have.Then again, maybe he doesn't want to be friends.  Maybe he's realized that he made a huge mistake and wants me back.  Let's be real, THAT'S what I really want to hear.  Not because I want him back, but because of course he made a mistake and of course he wants me back.  Because I'm great.Yeah, that's not the reason.  I decided to continue being nice and pursue the conversation.  He just curious about what I've been up to.  I was so tempted to be all bitchy and snarky and tell him GUESS WHAT, when you decide to end things with another person that means you don't get to know what's going on in their life!  So next time curiosity takes hold, get a good death grip around its neck and choke it back.  Kill it with fire if you must.Just leave me alone.But I didn't.  Because I'm not really bitter.  He was being nice and I wanted to be nice back.  See, I'm capable of not being a total rage monster when a break up occurs.  You have to be quite the special piece of shit to induce that sort of passion.  For once, all parties involved were decent human beings.  And not gonna lie, even though there wasn't this huge "I want you back" reveal, he was curious about my life.  And that's some sort of satisfaction.  I may not be dateable, but I'm still awesome.  He was pretty okay, too. I think it's worth at least attempting to be friends.Plus he has a really cute roommate who is totally my type.

michelle tanner you've got to be kidding full house

Not that it matters, because I'm never dating again.

Like All The Boys Before

I caught Feelings.Yes, you read that right.  Feelings are something that you catch, like polio.  Unfortunately no one has come up with a vaccine yet.  They're in the air and spread their germiness around if you aren't careful.  I think Carey was the one who coined that term, as far as I'm concerned, anyway, but she fell down that rabbit hole months ago.  I've been fending for myself since the summer.  But even I was no match for Feelings.  I met a guy and he was pretty great.

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Yeah, he totally dumped me yesterday.  Well, dumped implies that we were together, and we weren't officially, but whatever.  We were together.  And I got dumped.  It's actually the nicest break up that I've had, even though it barely counts.  He was supposed to meet my friends yesterday and instead, when he came over, he said he wasn't "interested" in pursuing anything more.But he did bring the hot dogs that I asked him to pick up."Interested."  When I told my mom he said that, she literally didn't even know what it meant.  Because it's so stupid.  But I guess it's a thing now, that people say.  Interesting.  I mean what are the other options?"I'm not into it anymore.""I don't want to see you anymore.""This isn't working for me.""I'm dumping you."The more I over analyze it, the less sense it makes.  It actually makes me kind of angry.  Not the word usage, just the fact that it happened.  Like hey, only a few days ago we had agreed not to see other people.  You'd think that he would have realized he didn't have feelings for me BEFORE that conversation, right?  Because that was part of his explanation.  He realized he doesn't have feelings for me.  Totally legit.  Only took him two months, many great dates, and several makeout sessions to realize.

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Whatever.  He did it in person and was very polite about it.  I was honestly on the fence about the relationship the whole time, but I chalked that up to past experience affecting my present.  We were taking it slowly and I was a-ok with that.  But let's be real.  I liked him and he did not like me.  And I'm tempted to get really defensive and insult him and discredit the feelings that I had in order to downplay the whole thing.Except I don't need to do either of those things.  My ego is bruised and it seemed to come out of nowhere, but that's it .  There were a lot of things that I really did like about him, but I think I was lying to myself a little.  I wanted to like him more than I did.  I was settling.  I'm glad he ended things, because I know I wouldn't have.  I didn't trust myself.  I wasn't sure how I felt; my feelings were running hot and cold.  Looking back, that's kind of an obvious indicator.

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There was so much that was right, it didn't seem like it could be wrong.  I did have feelings for him, but that feeling was missing.  You know.  That feeling.  I was doing a pretty good job of ignoring that.  I'm glad he didn't.Regardless, I was pretty bummed yesterday.  I didn't think I was at first; it was like I went into some sort of instinctual protection mode.   He walked in, said "I need to talk to you," blah blah blah, the rest is history.  And I was just like oh, ok, thanks for a good time, see you never, bye forever.  No big deal, it's cool, whatever.  I think I even tricked myself into believing that for like a whole second.When the immediate threat was gone, the crying happened.  It's understandable to be upset, but to cry?  Yeesh.  I liked him, but I didn't like him that much.  I was definitely taken aback by my body's reaction, but it's good to let that built-up energy out. It's like a more evolved fight or flight thing.  I was faced with an unexpected high-intensity situation.  It wasn't life or death or anything of the sort, but my body's defenses went up.  I had an immediate physical reaction.There are two choices we all face when something like this happens.  Either letting ourselves channel that energy to rid ourselves of it, or to ignore it and bury it deep down.  Emotions may be mental, but they are also very much physical.  They're called feelings for a reason.  The reason is because you physically feel them, in case that wasn't clear.  They don't just go away if you ignore them.  They get cast to a far corner of your body.  They cause your back to ache.  They prevent you from sleeping well.  They sit in the pit of your stomach.  The more they get buried and ignored, the more they build.So I chose to be honest with myself.  I didn't brush anything aside.  I felt upset, so I let myself be upset.  And it lasted approximately five minutes.  I went to my friend's party, talked to a bunch of people, and got a bunch of hugs and sympathetic ears.Tears and hugs.  The perfect formula for feeling better.AND ON TO THE NEXT.

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Fuck You Very Very Much

What I should really be doing right now is a blog post (or 10) for work since I was MIA for 3 weeks, but I actually already did write one post and it got deleted TWICE so I'm kind of over that for the time being.

Instead I should be working on my grad school application (because yeah, that's happening) or at least looking into getting my car registered here and a new California driver's license... but that just sounds like too much work.

Plus I really just want to rant about both of my ex boyfriends.

Ok well, to classify this as a rant would imply that I actually care, which I must, since I'm thinking about it, but it doesn't really feel like I do.  It must just be the coffee that I've been chugging since I slept through my alarm this morning which I have literally never, ever done in my entire life.

Who cares?  No one except the caffeine circulating through my bloodstream, I'm sure.

Wait, does caffeine actually circulate?  Is that how it works?  How DOES it work?  These are the important questions, people.

Anyway, my ex-boyfriend Ryan, the one who just seemed SO GREAT in previous installments of this blog, couldn't hack it in Los Angeles (like why did he even move here in the first place? To follow me? How sad) and moved ALL THE WAY back to Maine.  After like 6 months.  When I kicked him out, I was expecting him to like stay with a friend or live on the street.

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6 months.  That doesn't even count as trying.

And you know, I wasn't even planning on writing about him, despite him being an absolute pile of steaming crap, if the past 6 months of radio silence regarding him has been any indication.

But then I discovered that back in Maine, he's been hanging out with my complete jackass of an ex ex boyfriend, Josh.  Who, make no mistake, I did try to get together with while I was back in Maine.  Not like TOGETHER together.  Just catch up with.  Why?  Oh who fucking knows.  I mean I had lunch with his mom.  Seeing him didn't seem like the most unreasonable thing in the world.

But yeah.  Shitbag and Jackass have found their way back to each other once again, which I guess isn't really surprising but IS kind of annoying.  Then again, who else is even going to hang out with them?  Browzilla hates everyone in Jackass's life, so it's not like he has any options.  Browzilla is his current girlfriend, by the way.

It's just kind of sad, you know, since Josh the Jackass COULD do so much better but just chooses not to.  Like in girlfriends and friends and just life in general.  Ryan, the pile of crappiest shit ever, couldn't do better (as evidenced by me dumping him like the pile of poop he is), so he's really just taking what he can get.

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Which is actually hilarious to me.  Since he had nothing but bad things to say about Jackass AND Browzilla when we were together.

BTW, that nickname comes from the way she just draw those fuckers right on her face with like a Sharpie or something.  Get it together girl.  Seriously.

She's actually never done anything to directly TO me to warrant me being such a bitch, but who doesn't care?  Oh right, that would be me.  If everything I've heard is any indication, she deserves it, which doesn't really make it ok or anything, I know.  But again, I actually don't care. 

Not that she even reads this blog.  And if she does...

Hi sweetie.

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So yeah, Ryan is back in Maine being a loser while I'm still in LA being generally awesome, despite him owing me about $2,000, $700 of which he actually STOLE from me (while we were still dating, no less) and trying to hide a camera to film me naked when I'd gotten out of the shower one day.

Right, remember a few paragraphs above, when I said I kicked him out?  That's why.

I mean Josh was a total dick, don't get me wrong, but there's seriously no comparison.  And I wasn't going to write about it!  Why?  Because I'm such a great person?  Because I didn't want to embarrass him?  No.  Because I actually had faith that despite sucking so much, he actually wasn't THAT horrible.  And honestly, he pretty much stopped existing to me after that little pervert incident.  I mean the guy wears Terry Richardson glasses (WHICH I BOUGHT FOR HIM).  I should have known.

OHWOW & HTC Celebrate The Release Of "TERRYWOOD" With Terry Richardson

Ok so they don't actually look like Terry Richardson's but they are equally as creep-tastic.  Fitting, since HE IS A CREEP.

Then again, he shouldn't have been such a craptastic little asstard in the first place.  That's probably difficult though when that's just the kind of person you are.

So yes.  It appears that he is happy, which does not make me happy.  It's only vaguely annoying, but I also feel that way about the fact that he exists in general, so whatever.  And it's not like he could really truly be happy since he just sucks too much for that ever to be a reality.

However, since as far as I'm aware, he never faced any repercussions for being a massive wad of dicks, aside from failing abysmally at his one single attempt to do something even marginally great with his life (dating me), I figured it was time to write this scathing review of his being.

But now I've gotten to the end of my coffee, which now kind of tastes like how nail polish remover smells, and I am, once again, over it.

Well, until the end of August, which is the more than generous deadline I gave him to pay me back the money that he owes me.  If not... well, let's just say he was stupid enough to forge my name on one of my own checks when he stole $700 and charging him with fraud will be all too easy.

I think it goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway.

Don't fuck with me.  

One Less Problem Without Ya

These past few months are the first time I've been really, truly single in four years.  No casual relationships, no dating, no potential boyfriends, nothing.  I've gone out with my friends and I've met guys.  I've gotten their numbers and exchanged texts and even gone out a time or two.

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 It's all just a fucking game though.  I know that I've kind of addressed this before, and how ludicrous I think the whole thing is and how adamant I am about not playing. This game that I'm talking about is the kind where a guy sleeps with a girl and doesn't call her back.  He strings her along just because he can.  He makes plans occasionally, just enough to keep her on the hook.The power play.It's a game that far too many people in my generation seem to play, for reasons I just can't understand.  Ok well I do, but that's really just regarding people with kind of low self-esteem or self-worth, who feel like attention from someone else will validate their own existence.And thaaaat is just sad.  Which I am allowed to say because for a little while I was totally that girl.

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It was hard to see the bigger picture when I was totally invested different romantic scenarios, as un-romantic as many of them were.  Just the possibility of attention was enough.  My masochistic streak runs deep.  But it wasn't so hard to get some clarity when I listened to my friends vent their confusion and annoyance about similar situations.  I found myself frustrated that they weren't treating themselves with more respect.  These girls are my friends for a reason; they're fantastic.  So why weren't they pursuing men who held them in the same regard that I did?

And ok, honestly, listening to them complain about guys who were clearly just not that into them was super annoying.  As much as I want to think that I finally learned to treat myself with more respect and have higher standards, I think it was really that I realized that if they were annoying me that much with their stupid guy troubles, I was undoubtedly annoying them with mine, too.

Phoebe-Buffet-This-is-Brand-New-Information-Friends

So I stopped complaining.  The less I talked about everything that was stressing me out, the less I thought about it. The less I thought about it, the less stressed I was.  Crazy, right?  I mean there are only so many times I can think the same annoying thoughts over and over.Then one night very recently, sitting on the bathroom floor with Kari (yeah, I'm still spelling her name like that), it all clicked.Yes.  The bathroom floor.  That's not the first time we've had some intense life talks with her sitting in an empty tub, me sitting on the floor, and it's why we clearly need our own TV show.  I can tell you with absolute certainty, the bathroom floor possesses some mysterious and magical quality that grant you access to insights you otherwise would have never realized.

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Anyway.Everyone is playing some sort of game when it comes to dating.  It's human interaction in its most basic form: looking for a suitable mate.  I mean it's obviously a lot more (or less??) than that, but instinctually, that's where we're at.  Each person plays according to who they are and what they want.  We're all just looking for someone whose game matches our own.This game is supposed to be played for keeps, but too many people my age are just playing just for funsies (as if it's even fun) and are real assholes about it in the process.  Plenty of people do it in the name of experience.  If that truly works for them, then great, but I just can't imagine that this whole petal plucking, "he loves me, he loves me not" game that girls get caught up in is particularly educational.  It took me several serious boyfriends to learn what I did and didn't want, not to mention how much commitment relationships really require.So whatever.  I'm done being a pawn in someone else's game.  I have my own to play.  I'm not interested in a power struggle.  I don't have to pretend that I don't care because I really just don't.  If he's actually interested, that will drive him crazy, and not gonna lie, I kind of love that.   If he really wants to get to know me, he'll put in the effort.  If he really cares, he'll show me.  I'm not going to waste my time with someone who doesn't know what he wants, who doesn't know what he's doing, especially when it comes to women.

duh

Like come on.And if he doesn't measure up, he'll miss me when I'm not there anymore.  He'll regret treating me as a convenience rather than a priority.  If a guy isn't man enough to realize what he has when it's right in front of him, I'm sure not going to wait around for him to figure it out.I have things to do.  I have a very long life ahead of me, barring a zombie apocalypse or freak accident.  Really though, I don't even know what's going to happen in five minutes, let alone five years.  But that's beside the point.  No, actually, that makes my point even better.  I can't spend however much time I have left angsting over some guy who may or not be worth it.  Angst is for high school, which I left behind a long time ago.  Thank god.If I meet someone who puts in the effort, I'll see where it goes.  If he compliments me and challenges me, I think we can figure something out.  If he proves that he's in it for the long haul, then hell yeah he can ride shotgun.  I'd like a partner in crime.I really can't bother with anything less. 

It's Time To Leave and Turn To Dust

Picture this.  You’ve just gotten out of the shower.  You’re doing your thing.  You know, that after shower routine that we all have, different as they may be.  And you notice that something isn’t quite right.  Something catches your eye.A cell phone.  Unusually placed, kind of tempting to snoop.  It’s just right there for you.  But you get distracted, by something else.  Why is it placed like that?  It’s so suspicious, but that’s just you.  You’ve gotten used to the paranoia, but you check anyway, knowing you’re wrong.And it turns out that you aren’t.  That your paranoia has for once proven true.  The phone’s camera has been turned on.  It’s recording.  It’s recording you.The moment that your privacy has been invaded to such an unthinkable extent is very unfamiliar territory.  It doesn’t matter what you were doing, what you were wearing.  Or what you weren’t.  There was trust, and just like that, there isn’t.  There’s just a blank.  But you know one thing.  That you’re crying.  It always comes down to crying.  Because that’s it.  How much worse, after everything, after this, could it get?  The one person who was actually supposed to be good, the best person you knew, was not so much anymore.  Not really.So that one person you were supposed to be able to depend on was unstable.  Certainly not the rock you’d always assumed.  What’s left after that?  Who even is there?I’m glad to say, and finally realize, after far too long, that I always have my parents.

Dat Dating Game, Yo

Uh, so, being single, if only for a month, has made me painfully aware that I’ve never actually had to go through the dating process aaand I don’t really know how.  My first 20 years were basically boyfriend-less, and after that they were just all lined up and waiting.  I would say they were literally lined up but I don’t want to be one of those people.  That's just literally how close it is to being true.I’ve actually never had to deal with meeting someone at a bar through a drunken first encounter, following that up with hesitant, flirty texts, then meeting for “casual-drinks-because-we-have-to-keep-lines-blurred-and-all-that.”WAIT JUST KIDDING THAT’S NOT TRUE.  The texting part isn't.  That’s always there, and I’ve always been terrible at it.  But the thing is that no matter what, I always knew the recipient was interested.  I mean come on, it’s me.Just kidding.But really.lily kane fabulous gifIt didn’t matter how pushy or forward or needy I was, because I actually already knew the guy, and he was already interested.  My own obvious interest was just a bonus.  Because yeah, once again, I’m great.  Or really at the very least the guy knew (THOUGHT) he was going to get laid.  Come on, now.  Come on.Turns out strangers do notttt feel the same way as other guys I’ve had text relationships with.  So yeah, good times all around.Just to be clear, I’m definitely not actually dating right now.  Not even kind of.  These are just observations and realizations I’ve had over the past few weeks during my severely limited though marginally improved interactions with human beings/potential friends.america's next top model antm awkward gifAnd that is my life.I mean, I’ve heard about all of this.  The dating games.  The whole, aloof, not really THAT interested, kind of busy, “I’ll see you when I see you” type of attitude that people try to have BUT DON’T REALLY HAVE.  Ugh, I can’t even.  I’ve always had friends who were (and are currently) dealing with dating hardships.  Honestly, I’d always thought they were exaggerating.Nope.How hard could it be?  You like someone, you make a point to talk to them and to make plans.  If they’re interested, it’s obvious.Nope.Right, so I was just talking to a friend about how she likes a guy, and there’s a good chance she won’t be seeing him again after this week.  Obvious solution is to get his number.  I don’t think it’s a big deal; go up to him, say “hey we should hang out sometime.  What’s your number?”  Boom, simple, done, no big deal.Nope.APPARENTLY PEOPLE DON’T DO THAT.  I literally have no clue how else to go about it.  But apparently THAT IS NOT THE RIGHT WAY.I knew that we never really leave the high school-type social scenarios, but have we actually regressed to middle school notes and middle-man friends?do you like me noteI'm just guessing, though I'm pretty sure, that the scenario is resolved by the guy asking for a girl's number first.  You know, laws of antiquated sexism in full effect and all that.  So I guess that's problem number one: done.  Awesome.  High five.  Get it, girl.Nope.It really only leads to the way more stress-inducing difficulties of what to actually say to this guy.  I mean, I really don’t find this to be a big deal.  First of all, if he asked you for your number, that’s a good sign, right?Nope.Apparently exchanging numbers does not actually have any substantial significance.  It only leads to yet another game, this time waiting to see if he’s going to text or call.  In my humble opinion, if you have his number, you better just shut the fuck up and text him.  We have fingers to dial and brains to put those fingers to use.  Just do it.And then flirt.  Obviously.  At this point, if you don’t know how to do that, then that’s not my problem.  Get your life together.So ok, cool, you guys have established that you want to talk to each other.  Then comes the most hilarious, Mean Girls-esque part that I absolutely love.  Relaying every single detail to your friends and asking for their approval and advice before saying it.gretchen wieners you wouldn't buy a skirtOh believe me, I'm guilty of it too, the whole "he said this, so I said this, so he said that, actually, let me just send you a screencap of the convo."  And my friends will give me what is probably good advice, and then I ignore it and do whatever I want, anyway.those rules aren't real mean girls gifAnd that's what is and will forever be my problem.  There are rules to this game, and I really just don’t care.  I’m pushy.  If I like you, you’re going to fucking know it.  And I’m going to be paranoid that you find me annoying and needy.  But I'm going to continue anyway.  Because if you don’t like me, unless you ignore me or flat out tell me, I will not take the hint.  I am CHOOSING not to take the hint.  Because you are an asshole if you'd rather lead me on that be straight with me.(This “you” is no one in particular.  Just all the “yous” of my potential dating world.)The way I see it is this: I might like you, you might like me.  So let’s just tell each other that and make it a point to see each other again soon.  Then if we decide we actually do like each other, great.  If not, make that clear then we shall continue on our merry way.  Separately.  Except when we awkwardly run into each other through mutual friends.  Then have kind of awkward “eh, why not?” sex.  Except not really, because I don’t do that.Nope.But here I am, realizing this attitude I have might not actually benefit me.  Because these games are played for a reason, and apparently you freak guys out when you're just fucking honest.  Except I don't want to bother with someone I have to play games with.  Except apparently everyone does it.  And that is just the worst justification for doing anything, ever.  I learned that in D.A.R.E.Yeah, and we all know how effective that program was.Getting involved in this whole dating scene, especially in L.A., is just grossly unappealing.  So I think I’m just going to revert back to my high school dreams of becoming a lesbian.  Or a nun.  Or asexual.  None of which seem particularly appealing or easy, but all more so than trying to date men.The end.  Forever.lafayette ciao bitches gif

Living in Ruins of the Palace Within My Dreams

When I was younger, like high school teenage years, I loved the idea of being saved.i am filled with christ's love saved mandy moore gifYeah no, not that kind of saved, thanks.  I’m talking troubled, jaded girl who is saved by an understanding, guy-of-her-dreams type.  Never mind the fact that I was totally not that girl and couldn’t even pretend to have a reason to be.  I’m sure I was just a bit of a bitch to my parents, though.  Just a bit.Anway.  I actually spent hours trying to explain that in a way that made it less embarrassing, except that’s just really not possible.  At all.  Because it’s just so ridiculous.  Whatever.  We all have our embarrassing teenage secrets.  I don’t know where such a warped idea of what love and relationships came from – oh wait, yes I do.(The answer, in case you still haven’t realized what apparently is the connecting thread regarding my entire life, is movies.  Also books by Sarah Dessen.  Thanks, bitch.)It took a shitty relationship where I played the heroic dude’s role for me to understand that’s not how it works.  Ironically, after all that time, after that relationship ended, I finally got the play the part that I’d always romanticized.  Yay me.  At first the jaded, manic pixie dream girl character was fun.  It totally was.  Then I realized that the problems went deeper.  And that was totally not fun.It’s not romantic and it’s not endearing.  There’s no one who wants to help you and make it better because no one knows.  It’s not something you talk about – except yelling at characters in rom-coms when your friends force you to watch them. Because yeah, I really hate rom-coms now.  Like a lot.  Because they are stupid.  And lies.janice ian suck it mean girls gifOk, fine, whatever.  I’m not going to get into that whole thing.  I’m not feeling sorry for myself and I don’t want anyone to worry or feel sorry for me.  I’d actually started writing this with one very specific thing in mind: to explain why I wished I’d never met him in the first place.  I'm talking about the guy who made me feel this way, in case that wasn’t clear.I don’t know, though.  Do I really feel that way about him?  Months ago, I wrote how time and time again I understood and that I’d always care about him.  That isn’t true anymore.  I don’t understand and I don’t care.  The truth is that I don’t feel anything at all.  I just do not care.It’s taken far longer than I would have liked and more patience from Ryan than I deserve.  The heart does what it wants and in its own damn time.  It most certainly was not fun, and I have absolutely learned my lesson.  Now all that’s left is for me to get back to that point I was at a year ago, this time with someone who actually deserves those feelings.

Yesterday's Gone, Yesterday's Gone

So I was talking to one of my friends a couple of weeks ago, in one of our typical 5 hour phone conversations where we stop talking about moving in with our boyfriends and living in new cities long enough to talk about the things that are actually important, like shopping and Doctor Who.Oh wait, I think I have that backwards.  Just kidding, no I don’t.She wanted to know about Ryan, since, you know, she was there for my first boyfriend experience, that breakup, and the whole Joshua debacle (before and after, twice).  The little she knew from our annual 4/20 reunion was simply NOT good enough.Honestly, most of my friends know little more than what I’ve written in this blog.  Ok that is actually a lie.  But few of my friends know a lot.  No, that’s actually a lie too.  I mean, my entire family has met him, and I’m talking about a ton of my extended family on my mom’s side, too.  I basically dragged him everywhere to meet anyone I could.“Hey this is Ryan, my new boyfriend.  How did we meet?  Oh, haha, that’s a long story.  We’ve been together for three whole months, and we’re probably going to get married.”annie edison ghost story community gifUh, so yeah, there’s that.Whatever.  There’s a lot to it.  I’m still figuring it out, and for once, I’m taking my time in that department.  My friends know as much as I do, to varying degrees.  By the time I finished writing the terrible, epic tale of the J’s, I had already moved across the country and was sharing a bedroom with my boyfriend of four months.  Granted, we’d known each other for a couple of years, but come on now.  It took me a little while to calm down and get my shit together.So yeah.  I wasn't quite ready to write about it, but I think it's about time that I started.  If the amount of time it took me to write this short bit is any indication, it's going to take a while.  I want to get it right.  Plus there’s that whole book thing that I’m working on.jennifer lawrence funny face hunger games awesome gifRight.What it comes down to is that I’m still learning to accept that the guy who is wrong for me in all the ways that I thought were important is right for me in all the ways that actually are.Like how he’s on the shorter side.  I’m taking one for the team on that one, ladies.sadie awkward you're welcome gif

You Are So Much Less Than the Best of Humanity

I have something to say, but I don’t really know how to go about it.  It’s annoying, considering that I’ve written plenty on the subject in the past week.  I just don’t know how to go about it now.Bri decided to start her own blog, citing the same purpose as my own.  They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  I suppose that’s true, even if it is an insultingly sub-par imitation.The majority of this blog has been fairly restrained in terms of me acting on my feelings.  No, I was not always nice, but I didn’t want to be nice about things that weren’t.  No one spared my feelings in their actions, and I didn’t spare theirs in my writing.  I do not take the events that I wrote about lightly, and I didn’t want anyone else to, either.Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.I did my best to never let my emotions get the best of me, despite their constant attempts to.  Writing is the way I deal with anything and everything.  My emotions can be overpowering.  I don’t know what they are and I don’t know what to do with them.  So I write what I’m thinking.  It allows me to create some sense of order.  The more I write, the more it soothes me, and the better I am at piecing together why I’m so emotional and how to move away from that.Simply put, it’s something that I need to do.Naturally, when I found out what Bri was doing, I was livid.  I knew she fancied herself a writer, but this thing was mine.  Her attempt to steal the one thing that defines me isn't something that I could just laugh off.  If she had just decided to start a blog with her own intentions, that would have been one thing.  I would have scoffed, rolled my eyes.  But for her to copy me?  Bitch, please.So I read what she wrote.  Of course I did.  My curiosity will very likely be the death of me.  I didn’t know what to expect.  At first, I actually wasn't very bothered.  Her writing was fine and she hadn’t said much of anything.  Of course, the more I read, the angrier I got.  No, not angry.  Offended.  It had nothing to do with what she’d written about me, actually.  That part is minimal, and more or less true, though she was not-so-subtly nasty about it.No, what I’m offended by is her audacity to pass off her biased, manipulated version of events as any sort of reality.  I’m offended that she’s using my blog as a foothold for her own.  I’m offended that there’s any possibility that she believes that what she is doing is in any way the same as what I’ve done here.I could point out every inaccuracy in her writing.  I could point out that she never mentioned how she and I were actually friends, that this guy she was pursuing was not only her ex’s best friend, but MY ex, who I was still in love with.  That about a week before she slept with him, he and I had slept together again.  How there was simply no way everything just drunkenly “came pouring out” to Ryan because she had first texted Josh that she was “going to tell Ryan everything.”I could point out all of those things.  Oh wait, I just did.I know that it doesn't really matter.  No one really cares.  Anyone who is bothering with her blog will choose to believe what she writes.  I could point out the inaccuracies, but to what end?  For a time it felt like my life's mission was to make sure that everyone knew what an ax-wound she really is.  However, that would entail spending the rest of my life with her, if only mentally, and I can think of nothing less appealing.  Anyone who wants to know what actually happened during the time that our blogs overlap can scroll way back here and do so.You've got to sell your heart, wrote F. Scott Fitzgerald in a letter to a friend and aspiring writer.  Do not come lightly to the blank page is what Stephen King wrote in his memoir.  In a letter to a class of high schoolers, Kurt Vonnegut encouraged them to practice any art… to practice becoming… to make your soul grow.(Read the letters by Fitzgerald and Vonnegut by clicking on their names, respectively.)When I first got the idea of creating a blog, I was not so eager to bleed my soul on to the page.  It was personal.  I had been stupid.  I was embarrassed that I hadn’t seen what was right in front of me.  Everybody else had.  Looking back, it was just so obvious.  I was also ashamed of how I had treated some people.  The way I’d felt about Cal in the end and my ridiculous, catty behavior with Bri.I had been an idiotSharing that was difficult.  I had two choices.  Spin a version of events that left out all the ugly bits.  Create a dramatic story in which I was this two-dimensional character who had made mistakes and excuses, where I had merely been a pawn in a game played by others.Or I could tell the truth, as far as I could see it.  I could take responsibility for the bad, for things that up until writing this blog, I still hadn’t completely accepted.  I could write about my thoughts of cheating on my first boyfriend, my disregard for a friend’s feelings, what it was like to be helplessly, hopelessly, pathetically in love, about how I completely lost respect for myself in favor of those tragic feelings.I felt brave.  I wanted to share what I’d gone through, guts and gore and all.Bri went with the former option.  I chose the latter.  Really though, she can write whatever she wants about the events that transpired.  She can be completely honest or she can lie.  Of course, her manipulation of those events does irritate me, but I can’t change it, and I accept that.  So really, it’s not such a big deal.When I started reading her blog, I was actually looking forward to something more.  I was expecting to find sympathy for her through her words, to be able to relate to some sort of inner turmoil.  All that I had wanted since May was to find any sort of good in her, to find some common ground, to have some understanding of why she was so vicious.I suppose that would require some sort of self-awareness on her part.  That is, as I know all too well, one vital characteristic that she desperately lacks.  Why I thought she might have suddenly discovered it, I don’t know.  And so I was disappointed, yet again.It seems unfair of me to judge her so harshly.  Who am I to say that she isn’t bleeding her soul like I’ve done, or isn’t at least trying to?  Well, I can only assume that fictionalizing the events that happened to make herself look better would somewhat hinder her ability to express her true feelings about everything that she did, and what others did to her.I’m not one to judge skill, and I don’t pretend to be any sort of literary authority figure.  I still have my opinions, though.  I am not criticizing her writing.  I am not criticizing her right to write whatever she wants.  What I am criticizing is her attempt to pass off her fictionalized version of events as the truth.  In doing so, she has insulted the craft of writing and has therefore insulted me.I’m sure that was her intention, though, to some extent.  To upset me with her blog the same way mine upset her.  And of course, it looks like I’m falling into her manipulative trap, but I know fully well what I’m doing.  Time and time again, I overlooked the terrible things she said and did in favor of not stooping to her level.  While I do feel morally superior, ignoring her existence hasn’t changed the fact that unfortunately, she’s still around.Let it go?  Eh, sure, of course I will, all in good time.  She has made a point of making that rather difficult for me, though.  Every time I think she’s finally done, she pops her head back in with some sort of something.  Before this blog it was an email that she sent me a couple of weeks ago, with no purpose that I could see.  Before that it was the obnoxious comments she was leaving on this blog under a fake name.  Even before that, it was her apology for writing such unforgiving things about me in response to this blog.  But really, the one that I’d thought was the end of it was the night we met up, the night we were friendly, the night everything actually seemed nice and good again.Apparently, and most disappointingly, that seems to be the farthest thing from possible.For those who became curious while reading this, here's a link to her blog.  Knock yourself out.

I Refuse to Join Any Club That Would Have Me as a Member

With Halloween approaching and no plans in sight, all I can think about is how much I miss my friends.  I miss our late night shenanigans, smashing our heads on tables, wiping out on the sidewalk, the never-ending battle of the wits and slinging insults.  I miss those smartass comments and snarky grins.  I miss those friends who said goodbye to me multiple times before I moved, who were upset I didn’t see them one last time before I left.I’ve talked about how difficult it can be to make friends.  I’ve always had great people in my life, people with whom I fit in very specific ways, ways that will undoubtedly make them stick with me throughout life.  But they aren’t friends that fit in every way.They are people will always be there, no matter how far away they are.  They’re a constant.  They have helped shape who I am.  They are part of me, no matter what.  I love them, but I don’t miss them.  I don’t need to miss them, because they are always with me.  But they exist away from me.I am impatient and easily annoyed.  I prefer to spend the majority of my time alone.  Socializing is exhausting.  It is a rare person that I enjoy spending time with.  It takes a person that I can be a bitch to who will be just as big of an asshole back.  The only people I can truly stand are the ones who can truly stand me.A year ago, I finally found friends who do.  What in the world was I thinking, leaving them?Everything changed the moment that I realized those kinds of friends exist.  It was kind of terrible, actually.  I suddenly understood what I’d been missing all this time.  Knowing what I could have now makes it that much harder to not have it.  Sure, I’d give anything for any sort of friends right now, but what I’d really like are my people. The ones who get it.  Knowing that they’re out there makes it impossible to settle.Sure, it was terrible, but it was also the best.  There’s nothing like exchanging mediocre, fake friends for these new, majestic beings.  It’s kind of great to have people who like you for the weird creep that you are, odds and ends and all.  After all, they’re weird creeps too.  It’s nice to know that you are not alone in your own unusual existence.It was realizing that I’m fine the way I am.  Of course I always knew that, logically, but it’s one thing to be bombarded with that message and another to actually experience it.  I am me, and there are people like me who like me.  People who will put up with me, even when I fuck up a stupid joke.Even when I accidentally punch them.Hey.  Miss you guys.

The Only People That Interest Me Are The Mad Ones

"But then they danced down the street like dingledodies and I shambled after as usual as I've been doing all my life after people that interest me, because the only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing but burn, burn, burn like roman candles across the night."Jack Kerouac, On the Road: The Original Scroll

I have best friends that I’ve known since I was four, friends who know everything about me, who I constantly keep in touch with.  I have friends I don’t talk to for countless months at a time and can still pick up right where we left off.  Friends who I can have a single conversation with for hours at a time.  Friends with whom I have genuine conversations about shampoo.

I had my group in high school, the fun, wholesome geeks.  I’m not really sure how I ended up with them.  Our little clique was a puzzle and we were all just trying to fit in where we could.  Pieces were always coming and going.  Being included and discarded.  I was that awkward little piece whose place was never found, despite numerous attempts to wedge myself in.  The puzzle was fine without me. 

All these years later, I’ve kept a few souvenir pieces.  After many high school friends quietly fell off my radar, several stuck in there.  Those are the friends who know me intimately simply because it’s been so long, who I don’t really have to tell anything, because somehow, they kind of just know.  They’re the ones who are the most protective and judgmental, because they were there for the bad times.

Then there are my Portland friends.  The group that I managed to drunkenly infiltrate and become part of.  They’re the friends I wish I’d found sooner.  The ones who fit together so well.  They were clever and quick, their conversations were duels of insults and wit. 

They just got it.

The first time I met Matt and Nate, they were dressed as Wayne and Garth and were bowing down to me.  It was Halloween, and I was their Khaleesi.  That’s the group who met me at my worst and liked me anyway.  The ones who loved to argue, whose conversations consisted of slinging insults and shit eating grins.  They were elitist, judgmental, and weird.  They liked me and accepted me, strange looks, random comments, drunk crying, and all.  Those were the friends I never knew I’d always been looking for.

They’re the friends who made sure I was around.

Rumors Make Bad Lovers

A few weeks later, I got another message from Bri*.  I’d finally started feeling better about everything, and she just had to let me know, yet again, how sorry she was?  Oh, and this time, she told me that she missed me, and that Josh and I were cute together.Great, thanks a lot.The problem was that I missed her too.  I wanted to believe that her apology was sincere.  It was far more believable than the last attempt a couple of months earlier.  She wanted to talk in person.  I did not.  Well, I did, but I also got that terrible gnawing feeling in my stomach when I thought about it.Ultimately, I decided not to.  I didn’t trust her, and I didn’t want to be friends with her.  There was no point in meeting in person.  Her apology was enough; we had some sort of truce, however precarious it was.  That was that, and it was fine.Besides, I had made a new friend.  Her name was Kari.  We’d actually met years prior and had run into each other ever since.  She had been at the Drag Show, and we got to talking.  Turned out that her birthday was the day after mine, we were both lefties, and we’d actually mistaken each other for ourselves in photos on Facebook.  We were written in the stars.We met up for a drink.  I told her all about what happened with Bri and Joshua.  She and Bri shared a lot of friends, so I was slightly paranoid that she would immediately go back to their lair and tell everyone exactly what I’d said.  She returned the favor and told me what she’d heard about Bri’s version of the story.  I had, naturally, been painted in a not-so-great light.What we really bonded over was our relationships.  We resembled each other to a freaky extent, and our relationships were not excluded from that.  She told me all about this guy, how much she loved him and the problems they were having.  I was so glad that I had found someone who finally understood.Sure, I’d talked to my other friends about Joshua.  They listened to me go on and on and discuss and dissect any problems we had.  Kari was different though.  Kari was in love the same way I was.  She got it.As I listened to her talk about her boyfriend though, I realized it wasn’t quite right.  As in, ugh, this guy kind of sounds like a jerk, but I can’t judge because I’m on the outside and don’t know the whole picture.  I reminded myself that my relationship was similar.  It probably sounded not-so-great to others not involved.  But I was on the inside, and we may have had problems, but it was ok.  I wasn’t in a bad relationship.That, my friends, is what denial looks like.  This was the first time, though, that I had the slightest inkling that maybe things weren’t as ok as I was convincing myself they were.There was nothing particularly wrong or bad about my relationship with Joshua at that point.  We didn’t get to see each other as much as I would have liked; mainly on weekends.  He had to work at a ridiculous hour in the morning, so sometimes I would drive up on weeknights just to spend some extra time with him.  He occasionally returned the favor.We would Skype almost every night and talk about our days.  I would do or say something that he liked, and he would just look at me with those wistful eyes and tell me he missed me.  That always made everything ok.  That look at those words.  Nothing else mattered, because I knew how he felt.He wouldn’t say it, though.  Those three words.  I couldn’t understand why.  There were so many times when he wanted to say it.  The time we were out with Ryan at dinner and I just couldn’t see the appeal of the bacon dusted fries.  Josh is the only other person I know who feels that way.“Yes!  Thank you!  God I – “ and stop.  We all knew what he was going to say.  God I love you.  But he wouldn’t.I could see that he wanted to.  Lying in bed, we always talked about our secrets.  When we couldn’t talk, we’d just look at each other.  He loved me, and he wanted to tell me, but he couldn’t, and he was sorry.But I needed him to say it.It was different this time.  So much had happened.  Too often Bri popped up in my mind.  Certain things didn’t quite add up, and I tried to ignore them.  I’d rather not know the answer than get one that I didn’t like.  It was hard to move past it.  He was having trouble in a different way, but we didn’t talk about that.  The difficulties that I had only made it worse, because he was the subject of them.As we continued trying, it progressively got more difficult.  I didn’t quite trust him, with good reason.  On top of that, he was going out more with some other friends, some of whom may or may not have been girls.(They were.)This one girl, oh she was hilarious.  He tried re-telling me this joke she’d told, something vulgar and just so funny.  But no, they were just friends.  She wasn’t the one I worried about, anyway.  She wasn’t interested in him, and that was cool.  But he was sure as hell interested in her.  How did I know?  Because he liked to talk to me about her.  He was always friends with girls though.  Always had been.  I understood, although I was starting to just a bit less.  I was glad he was making new friends.  But couldn’t I go out with them sometime?  No, no.  He wanted his own separate life.  He didn’t want to share everything with me.Well Joshua, that’s the point of being in a relationship.  We both knew he didn’t really want to be in one.  But he was trying so hard, in his own way.  We both were.  Why?  I don’t know.  We were both unhappy.The difficulties didn’t matter though.  One night I was joking about how my presence was an intrusion on his video game playing.  Except I was serious and we both knew it.  He looked at me, completely earnest, and said no.  No, you’re presence is never an intrusion.  That look was enough.  It was always enough.All the other signs that I chose to ignore, because hey, what was I going to do, break up with him?*Some names have been changed.  If you know what happened, you know who I’m talking about, and if you don’t, then it doesn’t matter anyway.