It’s not breaking up because you haven’t been together for the past 2.5 years, but there are times where it feels like you’re still in some sort of psuedo-relationship. But let’s get brutally real here, honey. It’s time to end it. Stop dragging it out. Cut the cord. Move on. (Do I need to keep going, or do you catch my drift?)
It’s time to dump him for once and for all.
As if you needed more reasons than are already in your arsenal. But just in case, here are 21 signs. Big red flag signs you need to stop hedging and actually break it off with him in every way possible.
I haven’t written in a while. I know, I know. Boo-hoo, cry me a river, build me a bridge and get over it, blah blah blah.
I hate that I’ve taken so much time away from this, but there were other things to focus my attention on. Plus, I adore my sleep. I do not adore waking up with bear breathe and out-of-this-world bed head. I tend to imagine myself falling asleep the way a model does, cute and all put together, every beauty product well at work on this body. The image remains in the morning, and the instant I look in the mirror, its shattered. Tiny broken pieces everywhere. Watch where you step! (And this is every single day of my life!)
That sounded very melodramatic, didn’t it?
Doesn’t matter, really. There isn’t a single person I’m waking up every day to try to impress. Except maybe myself. The most important person to impress, after all. I’m taking to heart the #1 lesson of Jedi dedication: There is no chaos, there is harmony.
What does this 3rd line of the Jedi Code mean? Personally, it means to stop warring with myself, to stop warring with others. I need to be at peace with myself before I can have true harmony in the world. One major part of my life where there was massive conflict? Looking for my soul mate (or at least a boyfriend for the time being.) After one too many heart breaks and painful metaphorical knife stabbings to the gut, I’m finally yelling it high and mighty:
“No matter how cute and sexy a guy is, there’s always some woman somewhere who is sick of him.”
Carol Henry, a romance writer, probably hasn’t met Ryan Gosling. How could anyone ever get sick of that lovely hunk of man?
Not to be entirely tossed out. My eyes are still peeled for that lucky son-of-a-gun who one day I will call mine, and come home to every single night. Until that day, I live my romances through movies and fiction, the stories that keep our hearts full and wishful. I’ll hold on to the romance I know is waiting out there, but until then, my energy and efforts are going to be put towards making me a happy individual, and to helping others.
So, to quell the romantic beatings of my heart, I want to share the best heart-melting moments of my second all-time favorite romance tale of all: The Notebook.
– “What happens if a car comes?” “We die.”
– “You’re a terrible singer…But I like this song.”
– “She is out foolin’ around. I didn’t spend seventeen years of my life raising a daughter and giving her EVERYTHING , so she could throw it away on a summer romance.”
– “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”
– “You look different, too. In a good way.”
– “You wrote me?” “Yes! It wasn’t over. It still isn’t over.”
– “You got my letters. Finally. What are you going to do, Al?”
– “It’s about security. He’s got a lot of money!”
– “They fell in love, didn’t they?” “Yes, they did.”
Seriously. What’s not to love about that entire story? Not a damn thing. Every time I watch it, I pray to the higher powers watching over this earth, and over me, that I will be blessed with a romance as passionate as Allie and Noah’s. Love isn’t worth having if it isn’t a passionate affair with one another. All my fave love stories have it: Titanic, The Notebook, Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Wars.
The dream I had last night doesn’t help matters any, either.
Let’s get one tiny detail out of the way. Right now. Straight from the start and straight from the heart: It sucks being the only single girl at the table.
Even worse? Hearing your gal pals talk about guys they know, mostly single guys, in the hopes of possibly giving me a chance to find someone nice, someone who will treat me like the lady and princess I am, and someone who will fight their battles against me but still like me all the same, and the end result? They’re all too old or not in the same interest fields.
Trust me, I know opposites attract, but these ones just would not mesh with me. One happened to be a vegan. How die-hard a vegan, I can’t be sure, but if a guy can’t stand the thought of me eating a juicy burger or medium-rare cooked steak, it’s a done deal. I like my meat more than any guy any day.
It might sound stupid, but it’s the truth. I like to eat, plain and simple.
We had a few beers, but I wasn’t really in the mood to be drinking. Pineapple Habanero salsa and tortilla chips along with a glass of water with lemon sufficed perfectly well for me. And Jeez, we went through three baskets of chips! Damn, they were delicious. The perfect mix of crunchy and salty — my two favorite kinds of food of all time.
Sitting with my water and listening to two other women squawk about how their boyfriends/husbands piss them on the most random things, I’m sitting there, thinking, “Be happy you have someone to be pissed at about something as stupid as whether he’s standing beside you the entire time you’re shopping at Target.”
“When I think of some of the men I’ve slept with…if they were women I wouldn’t have had lunch with them.”
Carol Siskind, a nightclub nabob, has hit it right on the money. Which is why I have recognized the fact I really don’t get along with that many women. The ones I do, great! There are a handful I tolerate. The rest? Forget about them. I’m not nose diving into your catty, passive-aggressive ways of tearing a person down, and that includes over a meal. If I want a damn platter of onion rings, I’m going to have a damn platter of onion rings!
Me? On the guy front? I have no one. Not even a dog to cuddle me to sleep when I’ve had the roughest of rough days. I don’t even have a fish to come home to watch swim around his little bowl and spew my deepest inner thoughts to after everything is said and done. I have Yoda, sitting here patiently on my couch, always watching and always waiting for me to come and sit by him, possibly use him as a pillow. He’s usually the one who sits in the passenger seat when I make a solo trip anywhere, and we talk. Or I should say, I talk and he listens with that calm smile plastered across his face.
Yoda is an excellent listener. I wouldn’t keep taking him on car rides if he wasn’t. He’s seen me sing so loud, other cars next to mine are surely able to hear me loud and clear. He’s seen me laugh on the phone with my best girlfriends. He’s seen me freak out because I’m lost in the middle of the cities yet again. He’s seen me swear and cuss at idiot drivers and at myself. He’s seen me cry over unexpected break-ups, sad movies, or terrible conversations that should have gone differently.
He’s seen me through a lot, and he will always be my Master in that sense. Why? Whenever I have one of the above explained moments, I talk to him and then the resolution usually dawns upon me just as quickly as the problem settled on my shoulders.
The radio is always playing in the car. There are songs for everybody which remind you of someone or a specific moment in the lives we’ve led so far. ‘Gangnam Style‘ takes me to a time my best friend and I were sitting on the couch after months of not seeing each other while watching A New Hope. Faith Hill’s ‘This Kiss‘ takes me back to singing karaoke at the hometown tavern a mile from my home after a successful opening night of the first summer stock show I starred in, leading role and everything. ‘The Joker‘ will always and forever bring me back to my cousin’s wedding when my most recent ex-boyfriend and I were the only ones tearing up the dance floor, and I never smiled so much in my life (and he wasn’t that much of a dancer, either.)
These moments are heartbreaking, smile-inducing, and embarrassing. Along with the great dancing moments, there are the songs that played in the background during first kisses, first dances, and innumerable flirtations. A warning for all: the Rascal Flatts is not the best tunes to be playing when you think things may go beyond kissing. Seriously, heed my words.
We’ve all been there, we’ve all been transported back in time to that one moment specific to the song. Music is a magical thing and speaks to us in way normal words never will.
Yoda knows this. He gets it.
Maybe I’ve found my dream man after all.
These fits of frustration and anger towards no one in particular need to end, and they need to end now.
They come completely out of nowhere, too. Well, that’s not entirely true. Lately, I’m set off my the littlest sign of affection between two people clearly in love with each other or clearly enjoying the genuine flirtation of another human being towards them. The worst? When I’m in a room and my sister decides to start macking on her husband. Yes, I realize they are newlyweds and this is totally acceptable behavior. When my lucky day comes when I get to walk through my front door and come home to a delicious hunk of men, I hope I do the same thing.
But right now? Not only does it make me want to chuck a teacup at the back of their heads, but I also want to vomit. After the wave of nausea passes, I then proceed to sulk out of the room. I could exit with my own theme music blaring through the room, and I bet you they wouldn’t even notice. So now what have I started to do? Whenever they happen to enter the room I’m inhabiting, I just slip out. Unless I’m cooking. I can’t exactly leave the stove on with a pot of soup about to boil over.
I knew this was going to happen. It was bound to. It’s not like I didn’t have enough forewarning. But lately, I just can’t handle. Why? Oh, I don’t know…Maybe because another member of the male race reared his ugly head and proved just how downright awful men can be. Now, let me stop you. I’m not saying all men are scum. Not true. Each of my sisters has found a gem, and they better hold on to them with all their might.
Me? I’m keeping the scum occupied so every other woman on this planet can find their true, genuine soul mate while I’m left in the dust wondering what the hell just happened.
“Good judgement comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgement.”
Rita Mae Brown, a high-profile book writer, where were you when I started to get all interested in this dating business? Where were you to shake my shoulders like the demon devil himself was festering inside of me? To be fair, I can’t really say no said ‘I warned you.’ There were plenty of warnings. I simply made the decision to “have fun” and see where the wind would take me, but even “having fun” starts to wear on a person’s soul pretty heavily.
Is this going to be the never-ending story to my love life? I really hope not.
The fact is, I let myself be happy for a few minutes. I was aware I was letting my guard down, and as I walked to my car one night, I felt it all trickle in. I felt the ooey-gooiness take over, and I reminded myself not to feel like that. Something was bound to happen (the wise and powerful Force speaks loudest when we need to really hear something). So I made a choice. I allowed myself the drive home to smile like an idiot, to sing wildly to the songs on the radio, and fall onto my couch with an equally ooey-gooey romantic comedy to settle down for the night.
Not even ten minutes after I hit play, I read a text message that I had forewarned myself against. Good thing I was prepared, and my defenses weren’t far behind. What I couldn’t prepare for? Two days later, it was like walking through a door someone booby-trapped with a bucket of water. Drenched and unsuspecting, I sat staring at the text messages on my phone, and vowed right then and cut off all ties.
God and I had a very serious talk that night. I told him I was done with duds. I was done with being run over and taken and being thought of as a piece of pie. I am done with putting in too much with no hope of getting anything back in return. I told him a few choice words, too.
The best part? Once I was done, I didn’t feel frantic, scared, or worried I would never find my match. Instead, I felt incredibly calm, like God was patting me on the back, saying “No worries, girl. I got your back. Until then, you’re going to be okay. Promise.”
I sure hope you’re right, G-man.
Dating. I’ve never had such a nasty taste in my mouth after saying a word.
Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to be in a committed relationship. I’d love to have someone to cuddle and call whenever I was feeling blue. I would more than certainly love to have someone to say “I love you” to at the end of every phone conversation. But the road I need to take in order to get there? Yeah, I may need a breath mint right about now since this taste in my mouth is getting worse.
Maybe I’m at a point in my life where I’m content and need to focus on me. Or, like many other women, I’m sure, it’s scary to think about dating. But, wait…what about those dates I went on with New Guy, and a few other chosen males in the past year or so since my ugly break-up? What about New Guy’s Best Friend who keeps things interesting with he occasional text here and there? About the gushing cries of “omg I really like this guy, oh man I can’t wait to go out again?”
Yeah, I think I was still in a phase of the break-up. They were all very nice guys, the ones I went out with (until they pulled a very douche bag move and made me change my perspective on the male race entirely yet again.)
There are nice guys out there. I know this. Everyone knows this. They’re not just going to pop out of the ground like gophers and say, “I’m a nice guy! Date me!” No, I’d certainly be in a fantasy world if that were the case. I think I’m tired of looking for them. Come on, what sounds better? Sitting on the couch, watching the TV show YOU want to watch, eating an entire bowl of extra buttery popcorn without having to share (and no one poking your waist, giving you a hint to watch the caloric intake), and the fact you look like crap with your hair up in a loose ponytail and a large, polka-dotted headband holding the loose hairs out of your eyes? No one cares! Your roommate might say something, but hey, it’s your roommate, and we’re friends. Tell her to go eat another Ding-Dong and get back to your show.
Then there’s the primping and the prepping for who knows what kind of night. Will you go to a nice restaurant? Will he pull a 180 and take you for a walk instead? Is it just a coffee date? If it’s dinner, what do you order? Not a salad, because let’s face it, we all know I like to eat. But not a steak or a burger…too messy. Hair up? Down? Jewelry…too much could be a bad sign, but not enough could show you might not care at all. Plus, you have to shave your legs, tweeze the eyebrows, gloss the lips, and make the eyeliner perfect. Perfume can’t be too heavy, but it shouldn’t be too light so he literally puts his nose into the crook of your neck to try to catch a whiff of something other than B.O. and sweat.
Attractive, isn’t it?
“Dinner is a waste on a first date, because you don’t want the guy to se how much you can really eat. He’ll find out soon enough I can put my entire head in a Haagen-Dazs tub.”
I love your words of wisdom Maryellen Hooper, a professional leg puller. Seriously, what is considered the “right” thing to eat when out on a first date? It’s a question I don’t think any one person can truly answer with definite confidence. Maybe Cosmopolitan magazine, but sometimes I wonder if they test their own advice. Buffalo chicken wings on a first date? Um, no thank you.
The date isn’t over yet, meaning the panic should only be setting in. You’ve made it through dinner, he’s walking you to your door (or maybe you’re still sitting his car!) He reaches a hand over, places it on your knee. You turn to say good night face-to-face. Omg, is this the part where he kisses you good night? What if none of this stuff happens and there is no kiss good night at all? Multiple reasons could be true, but if you had a good time and he’s cute, you’re not going to think logically at this point in time. Instead, you will be calm, cool, and collected on the outside (like any great woman would be), but on the inside, you are screaming, crying, smashing your purse against the door the minute it shuts behind him….Lots of crazy action no one should ever be privy to.
Dating is a lot of panic, a lot of heartache, and a lot of waiting. It’s so much easier when you’ve known the person, and suddenly, it’s not dating. You’ve just become the couple you’ve always felt like you were. There’s no more questioning, and it gets to be fun saying, “I have a date tonight!”
I haven’t had a night like that for some time. Know what? I’m okay with that. I need to figure me out in so many ways yet. If Mr. Wonderful should pass me on the street and ask me out, I won’t decline the offer. You never know, he might be my Special Someone. He could be the next on the long list of guys I’ve been out on a date with. You just never know.
The Force likes to keep us guessing…or it likes to remind us that relationships aren’t exactly the Jedi Way. But if I can successfully hold a steady relationship with Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, I can certainly keep a steady relationship with the right guy.
In the meantime, I’m enjoying the start of fall and the month of September, and here are my fave things about this month:
– Autumn Leaves
It’s hard to believe this month is practically over already. That’s what happens when you’re having fun…and pinpointing all the possible ways why I am still a single woman in this day and age.
HA! I know the real reason. Men are scared of me, plain and simple. I know I’m a lot to handle, but you know what? If there’s a guy out there who can handle me without thinking he can tame me, we’ll get along just fine. I just have to wait for him and I to cross paths.
In the meantime, this Jedi is going to keep being real…and that means eating what I want in whatever quantities I want.
Salmon sounds good for dinner, doesn’t it?
Here’s to the husbands who’ve won you, the losers who’ve lost you, and the lucky bastards who’ve yet to meet you.
Well, what do you know? It’s another Friday, and is it sad to say that I’m sort of dreading it? My work day isn’t going to be all that bad. I have the office all to myself again, and I have an event in the middle of the afternoon where mostly I’ll sit, wave, and clap to those walking through a Welcome Line. The I return to my office to finish up a few things, head out for the day to home and throw a few clothes and my toothbrush into a duffel, jump back into my car to head off to my part-time job. When that is done, I jump back in my car to drive 3 hours down to the cities because tomorrow I am getting my day at the State Fair.
I can taste that deep-fried candy bar already. Mmmmm-mmmmm good!
While I know that one food indulgence takes care of my calorie count for the entire week, I don’t care. It’s the State Fair. You’re supposed to consume more than three times your normal food intake, feel terrible about yourself, and then go home and rave about all the things you ate.
I don’t feel guilty about it at all. In fact, I’m officially joining a gym on Tuesday, so I’ll be raring to get those extra 2000 calories off my behind and sweating onto the gym floor.
I do have to share this one little funny story. It’s kind of ironic considering the state of bliss I was in after being swept off my feet by Josh Groban in Dreamland the previous night, but my sister and I stopped at our old apartment for the last time. A desk I inherited from her previous roommate free of charge still remained in my old bedroom and it needed to be moved out to the dumpster yet. After tipping it every which way to find the best carrying position for it, we managed to rip it apart more than a little bit. If you’re thinking about buying a desk, one thing to keep in mind: How hard it is going to be to move? This particular desk was not well-thought out. Awkward, heavier than heavy, and none of the doors stayed shut (maybe why I got it for free?).
Us two girls managed to get it out to the trash and shoved into a dumpster ALL MY OURSELVES! (Hear us roar!!!!) I must not have dusted the thing ever. Once it was in the dumpster and out of our hands, I looked down at my sweatpants and there were streaks of gray and fuzz all over the place. (Not going to lie…dusting furniture is not always a #1 priority with me.) Anyways, we continued to get the last few things moved out and I was carrying the top compartmentalized portion of the desk (which we managed to rip off…YES!) This was no small piece of shelving. Not that it was heavy, just slight cumbersome.
I’m struggling to get the door and miraculously do not lose my footing walking down the steps, and start walking to my car. Suddenly, I look up and a nicely dressed guy is grabbing his bag out of his car. A small buzzer goes off in my head, saying, “You know him! You know him!” He starts walking in my direction, and his face lights up when he sees me. He greets me rather enthusiastically, and I respond in kind. “Hey hows its going?” “Hey there! I’m doing pretty well!” We go out separate directions.
The entire trek to my car, I’m asking myself how I know him and from where. Then it dawns on me. He’s the guy I met randomly at a bar about a month back while checking out a band with a work friend of mine. He’s the one who approached me and tried holding a conversation with me when the band was blaring so obnoxiously loud, and I couldn’t hear a word unless he literally stuck his lips on my ear and spoke. So freaking loud! After awhile, he bought me and my friend a couple of rounds of drinks and eventually we left where we were sitting so we could actually talk elsewhere in the bar. I didn’t know at the time if I thought he was attractive because of the tequila I’d been downing or if I genuinely thought he was cute.
Anyways, after getting back to the house, I just had to text him to see if it was him. Sure enough, it was and he had recognized me, too. We chatted for a bit, and I brought up the fact he had asked me for drinks about a week or two ago, but I had never heard from him since. If I remember correctly, he was out-of-town one week and then seemed pretty swamped with work the following. But whatever. I never heard from him, and just assumed he lost interest or was really busy. I could deal with that. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve also been swamped.
But we have a potential date for next week. He’s no Josh Groban, but hey, it’s a date, isn’t it?
“Don’t waste time trying to break a man’s heart; be satisfied if you can just manage to chip it in a new place.”
The tempting words of Helen Rowland, a modern maximist.
I can’t say I left him drooling and dazzled at my charm yesterday enough to make him regret not getting a hold of me sooner. I was covered in dust fuzzballs, gray chalky dust, make-up smeared, and hair half-thrown back hazardously. In my professional opinion, not cute at all. But that’s my opinion.
Sometimes, I tell myself to stop trying to figure out life. The Force will guide me one way or another, but it will not steer me wrong.
Trust in that. Trust in that.
And because I’m now obsessed with this song….Happy Friday!
Dreams are always too delicious.
I didn’t want to wake up this morning. I did not want to get out of my bed. What I really wanted to do was slip back into slumber and return to the ah-mazing dream I was having before my alarm clock decided to be a total party pooper and rouse me from dream world AKA what should be my reality.
“They were kind of dirty looking pebbles. I didn’t know. I’m used to seeing diamonds shiny and in a box. These are the kind of diamonds I am used to seeing.”
I have to admit, I think Naomi Campbell, the supermodel, makes herself sound more than a little silly here, when asked about accepting the gift of diamonds from an African dictator. But, if we think about diamonds here as if they were dreams, I would have to whole-heartedly agree with her.
Some dreams suck. More than suck. They are downright frightening and terrible.
Others? They make your heart soar higher than any caffeinated beverage ever could.
I love dreaming. Not just in the fantastical sense, but also in the REM sense. They are so interesting. I’m a firm believer our dreams are the gateway to what is happening in our live. They make us look at ourselves in a new light and force us to confront what we refuse to when our eyes are wide open in daylight. I’ve learned a few things about myself through the interpretation of my own dreams, and it’s utterly fascinating.
In other words, yes, I am that nerd who will be found looking at dream interpretation books at Barnes and Noble (although I have to admit I find Freud to be incredibly frustrating when it comes to dream interpretation. Just because I dreamt about a blue Laz-E-Boy chair does not mean I have a repressed sexual urge of any kind.)
You know what? I don’t care if you see me. I like what I like and there is nothing you can do about it!
So, what was this dream that made me momentarily hate my real life? Let me tell you…
Myself and a few unknowns (but I felt their presence about me, so I knew I had friends with me)were attending a rather intimate concert of none other but Josh Groban. So, he is up on his stage, sitting on a bar stool of sorts and doing his thing. He finishes his song, and he starts talking tot he audience. He asked us, the audience, to shout out the reasons we decided to come to his concert that evening. Much closer to the stage than I had earlier thought, I jumped up with my hand in the air and shouted, “It’s my birthday! I tweeted you about it. Did you see it?”
His reply, “You also sent me a card, didn’t you? For my birthday?” I nodded quite vigorously (I must have been nodding in my sleep, too, because my neck is just killing me this afternoon!) He smiled that boyishly charming smile of his, and told me, “I thought so. I actually kept the envelope, so I knew how to find you.” Ever so coy, I tucked my hair behind my ear, and said, “Well, I’m right here. Guess you found me.” He held out his hand to me, and I took the stage with him where he wrapped me in the warmest hug I have ever experienced. (Seriously, I am getting goosebumps just thinking about how great that hug was!)
Next thing you know, he’s leading me by the hand backstage, out the door, into his limo, and we’re back at his hotel suite. His room quickly became the gathering ground for his fellow band mates and they soon were creating new music for us to listen to. What were we doing? Cuddling on his bed, listening to his friends create new music on the spot. Very much an improv music session. We sat and listened to the music for a short bit, but then after a short time, while a sweet looking dude with long Jamaican dreads started tapping away on his metal-topped drum, he whispered in my ear, “I have something to show you. Let’s sneak out of here.” No one even looked up when we quietly stood up and slipped out the door.
Still holding hands, we walked quickly down the hall, stealing glances at each other and giggling the more and more we walked (honestly, this part reminded me of the scene in Titanic when Rose and Jack quickly duck out the back door of Rose’s stateroom after Lovejoy decides to stop by and try to crash their party, and they quickly, but calmly, walk down the hallways in the opposite way of Lovejoy’s soon-to-happen discovery of them.)
Anyways, he whisks me out the hotel’s front entrance, despite rampant staring from people in the lobby as we passed. We escape the rotating door, and like he can’t resist a moment longer, he grabs me around the shoulders and waist, and pulls me in for a deep, deep kiss. (Siiiiiiiiiiigh!)We pull apart for a moment, start to laugh….
And that’s where my dream ends. Do you understand why I didn’t want to return to reality? I mean, I was making out with Josh Groban! That’s a dream come true in so many ways.
Good thing I have my Josh Groban station going on my Pandora.
Thinking about it at this moment really makes me wish I had a guy to run home to and kiss until the sun set. (In case you haven’t noticed, I am a hopeless romantic…and yes, my heart is pitter-pattering at the recalling to mind of this dream.)
I have a feeling I know what Freud would say about this dream, and I would really want to tell him to shut it. Yes, a relationship is always at the back of my mind, but at the same time, I just don’t know. Currently, my love life consists of seeing a cute guy at Barnes and Noble or at a work reception, I smile, lower my eyes, and scurry past as soon as my legs will carry me.
There’s no hope for me…but there is for you and I hope you grasp those opportunities with all the muster and might you can with both hands. In case you need a little uplifting, here are my weekly words of encouragement to lift your spirits:
– Every dream starts with a first step.
– You are someone’s hero.
– Easier times are ahead.
– Give yourself some applause.
– Love will fill your heart if you let it.
– One positive thought can set a whole new future in motion.
– You’re a star. Let yourself shine!
Do you think Mr. Groban will appear in my dreams again tonight? I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
Until I find myself getting ready for some deep shut-eye, this little diddy will have to do.
Basically, I packed up my entire apartment and found myself moving.It wasn’t an unexpected move by any means. No, not at all. I knew I was moving, and had been packing up all week. But the weekend came much sooner than anticipated, and now I can happily say I’m moved into my new bachelorette pad.
What else does a girl need? I have a bedroom, a living room/work space with a couch and (hopefully soon to be operating) TV with DVD player (my first Big Girl purchase!) I have a walk-in closet that I am almost embarrassed to say is already plump full with clothes, and this is after going through and donating a good chunk of things to Good Will. I need to do it about three more times, except I cannot be present to argue why I should keep that stretchy blue sweater in my wardrobe. I just can’t be, otherwise nothing will be taken away.
And being a woman, I only know more clothing items will call my closest home before I find the next place to move into presently.
I won’t be staying in this bachelorette pad long-term. Sadly. it’s really starting to become my space and I’ve only been there for 3 days! When you take away the fancy words of ‘Bachelorette Pad’ and ‘Walk-In Closest,’ you will discover I’m living in the basement level of my sister’s house which she bought with her fiance a few weeks ago. Since starting my new job, the wedding coming up in a few months, and the chaos of moving, I really didn’t have a ton of time to track down potential roommates or a place of my own to move into. For the time being, I’m living with them in their basement, which they have graciously allowed me to inhabit.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Isn’t it going to be weird when you move back when they become newlyweds? Yeah, maybe a little bit, but guess what? I have a door that I can escape out if I start to hear awful noises above my head…and by that time, I’m hoping to have bought a new music sound system so I can blast Hans Zimmer whenever I feel like it and just get lost in my own little world.
It’s really fun having my own space to decorate and play around with. Sadly, I’m not being allowed to hang any of my Star Wars posters or inspirational quote boards on the walls. Nail holes would only wreck their new walls. Oh, and did I mention my level is the only one that has carpeting? It’ll be nice once winter hits. I’m thinking the hardwood floors are going to get awfully cold in the winter time, but I guess we’ll see. I’ve only been in the house for 3 days, and I already spilled a touch of Rockstar on the carpet. Shhhh, don’t tell anyone. All I can say is Thank God it wasn’t the red-colored one I usually tend to get.
Watch, I’ll go home tonight and there will be the ugliest stain I’ve ever seen i my entire life. Of course I spilled it while getting my shampoo out of its moving box in the wee hours of this morning, too. FML sometimes. (By the by, whatever happened to saying FML?)
“I suppose that if you want to be famous, and suddenly it happens and you don’t like it, it’s nobody’s fault but your own.”
How many present-day celebrities need to hear this? I wish they were as wise and clever as you Margot Kiddar, the film phemon back in the day.
At the same time, one could look at this and decide that it all comes down to attention given from actions taken. If you don’t want people talking about you three weeks later after that one amazing part that absolutely everyone was going to be at, then you probably shouldn’t make out with every other guy you run into while you’re there. Don’t want annoying people you half-remember calling you for booty meet-ups at midnight every other night? Don’t give you your phone number like a drunken idiot.
The opposite could also be said. Want people to notice you? Go out on a limb and try something new (without embarrassing yourself, of course. Keep your best interests at heart!) Sometimes, I just don’t know what I’m getting at. I haven’t done anything completely and ridiculously crazy as of late. Could be a good thing, could be a bad thing. I haven’t decided yet.
The most daring thing I’ve done in the past seven days? Jump into the lake when it felt like the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of December. Just because it’s 80 degrees on the sand doesn’t mean the lake is the same temperature, people. It’s the beauty and curse of the water.
A part of me is also yearning for that next relationship. It doesn’t help living with newlyweds, that’s for sure. Yes, I could have tried super hard to find my own place to live in the last month, but knowing myself, I would not have been satisfied with anything so quickly available in a month’s time, and I’m not daring enough to live in the ghetto part of town. Sorry, I’m just not. I probably could have done a lot of different things, but in the end, I moved with my sister to her new house. 1.) The house is really cute, and I wish I had a picture to show you to prove it, 2.) My sister is my best friend. It’s nice knowing my best friend is just a floor above my head instead of all the way across town (even though eventually, this will be the reality of things), and 3.) I already don’t deal well with change. When we started moving things on Saturday morning? Oh, it was bad. I was crabby, I didn’t want to lift anything more than I had to, and I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Apartment #9.
I’m still not ready to say good-bye.
My mind kept jumping to the final episode of Friends, when each one of them gives up their key to that apartment with the purple walls and it sits empty of every piece of furniture we spent 10 years loving. Like Monica said, “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
A lot of great things happened in Apartment #9. Moments I’ll hold on to for time to come, I’m sure. But like everything else, it too shall pass. It’s time to move on.
A new residence means a new turn of events in my life, right? Fingers crossed. I mean, it’s still the year of the Dragon. It’s still my year to shine and have good fortune smile upon me. So far, I’ve got the job, the sweet home hook-up. Now, the romantic side of things can start to heat up. I miss being in a solid relationship. Sure, one-night trysts are all fun and good, but eventually they’re going to lose their excitement value, too.
I’m still holding out for engagement by the age of 30.
(Since I have missed two Fabulous Fridays in a row, expect a deluxe version of the two missed weeks tomorrow! My special treat. No ramblings or wonderings. Just a quote, and the amazing, Fabulous things I’ve come across in the last two weeks prior to the big Moving Day 🙂 )
I haven’t written in a few days, and I feel terrible.
And to make you feel even better, this post is going to be fairly short. In fact, I’m writing this today (Wednesday) and it might not be posted until tomorrow (Thursday). I’ve been a little busy and preoccupied. (And wouldn’t you know it? It’s actually Friday when I’m posting this. Woooow…this week has been Cray-zeeee!)
Like I said, I feel terrible.
A little recap of what’s been happening over the past couple of days (really, I’m recounting the few days that took up the previous weekend)….
Last weekend I headed down to the cities to see my best friend. See, the last time me and this friend talked, she was calling to inform me about how she and her boyfriend/fiance had broken up. Well, okay…I do what any best girlfriend would do. I had the weekend off, so I told her I was going to jump in my car and come see her, spend the weekend with her. To make sure she is okay and all that.
Little did I know, I’d get there only to find out they got back together the next day. Ummm what? How is that possible? “It’s too much time together to just throw it away.” While, yes, I agree, I honestly think she does need to spend some time on her own. She is a year younger than me, has been dating him for 5 years, and I think about myself and I know I would have said hasta la vista to him the moment we broke up. She needs to experience other guys in her life. A person changes quite a bit ion 5 years. Trust me, I am an expert at that.
Look at the type of girl I was 5 years ago, and look at me now. Leaps and Bounds of difference and change.
Anyways, so they got back together literally the day after she called me, breaking down in tears, telling me it’s over. Does she bother to tell me they got back together? Not at all. I found this out over turkey sandwiches and peaches with her parents that weekend. Wow…thank you for considering me a good enough friend to break the bad news, but when it comes to this? Not even a text message.
I worked my last day of work at the KGC, and it was utterly fabulous. I know to this very day they still haven’t hired anybody to replace me. Maybe by the time I post this tomorrow (really, on Friday), they may have someone. I sort of doubt it heavily.
But, as a token of farewell and good will, I was allowed to pick one thing off the entire menu to enjoy as my last meal with the club (my last supper, if you will.) I chose the château briand, and on top of getting to eat this delicious piece of steak with béarnaise sauce and the loveliest mashed potatoes you ever did eat, our club was graced with the presence of quite the celebrity on my last day.
Who, you’re probably asking yourself, who is this mystery person? None other than Laura Linney, whom I fell in love with when she was in Love Actually. I had since followed her into her days of playing John Adams wife in the TV series John Adams. So pretty and much taller than I suspected. I held a short conversation with her, and had the instinctual moment to grab a napkin and a marker, thrust them into her and politely demand an autograph, but I held back. I didn’t want to disturb her for an autograph when she was clearly there for a family event, or as some call it, a groom’s dinner.
“I have been treated as a freak, rather like the fat lady at the circus.”
I didn’t want to treat Ms. Linney like this on her visit to the KGC. I’m sorry for the way you felt, Margaret Patricia Hughes, an English sportswriter. But at least I hope you were treated differently because you stormed into the men’s locker rooms for the stories and quotes needed for the best of sports writing. And not just for the job, but also to catch a glimpse of those abs on them athletes which I know they were sporting.
Hey, once a single woman, always a single woman (in the mind, anyways.)
Along with the excitement I have detailed already, I also started my new job, and I’ll have to dish on that more later. I have already stayed 30 minutes past what I’m scheduled to work on a daily basis to get this done (since I am still without a laptop), so I shall leave you with my Midweek Smiles and get the heck away from this office. I mean, I’ll be here 40 hours a week. Why spend more time here than I need to!?!
– This day is filled with small joys just waiting to be noticed.
– You have the strength you need.
– Everything will be all right.
– See yourself as you truly are: amazing.
– Dream. Create. Achieve!
I’ll need these reminders as much as the next person in the upcoming weeks ahead. I fly solo in the office already on Monday. MONDAY! I will only have a week under my belt at that point. Start crossing your fingers now, folks. It could be a bumpy ride.
Well, where to being with my weekend.
It started out with the best Friday imaginable. I got the phone call I’ve been waiting for since graduating from the Academy. Oh, yes. After dozens of applications and too many hours to count of energy being poured into cover letters, I can now say it has all successfully paid off.
That’s right. In the matter of a few week’s time, I will be assuming a position behind my new desk and working in the field of communications, marketing and event planning. The best part? I’m only working the occasional night and weekend, whenever an event is going on. In a few week’s time, I’ll be working normal business hours like the majority of the world. I’ll be able to plan evenings out with people…I won’t have to fight two different schedules if I happen to get asked out on a date…When I say I’m coming home for the weekend to visit, I can actually go home on the weekend to visit!
It’s the little things that are making me the happiest individual in the world right now. Well…I wouldn’t say the happiest, but at this current moment in time, two out of the three major areas of my life are successfully working.
In case you’re unsure of what three areas of life I’m talking about, I’m referring to the Social, Professional, and Love areas of my life. My professional life is preparing for take-off. I’m assuming my first Big Girl Job (with my own desk, computer, and everything! They’re even bringing in someone to adjust my chair and computer to the heights required for me to work in a healthy work environment. Like, holy crap! I’m getting my chair adjusted as a part of my job!)
My Social life is doing pretty decently. I’ve been reconnecting with my sister in new ways, which has been really nice. Especially with her wedding looking ever closer with each passing day. But, I’ve been catching up with friends, hanging out with old ones, and just living life the way its meant to be lived.
My Love life on the other hand…well, let’s just say it’s lacking. Incredibly lacking in every way possible. I don’t know where things went wrong, or even if things are wrong. The guy I’ve been seeing for a couple of months now and I clearly on two different pages, and I’m not quite sure how it got this far separated. Since we started seeing each other again up until now, we always texted each other a little something throughout the day. Nothing lovey-dovey or mushy or anything like that. Little tidbits of information, like MMA was a huge factor in defining Bane’s fighting style in The Dark Knight Rises, or how Peter Jackson might be turning The Hobbit into a three-part saga. Things we’re both interested in, and as we send it, we know the other person is going to appreciate it.
This past weekend was the first time we didn’t communicate at all. No phone call, no texts, no nothing. Even when I went home for a 3-day weekend for the Bachelorette Party, he texted me merely to say ‘Hope you’re having a good time.’ Something like that.
“It’s not that men fear intimacy…it’s that they’re hypochondriacs of intimacy: They always think they have it when they don’t.”
Lorrie Moore, a major American novelist, makes me think the worst in my current love life situation. I don’t know what else I can do here. Any major, drastic moves I make will either scare the poor guy away or he’ll really think I’m crazy and just write me off as the nut job he’ll never associate with again.
On top of everything, we’re now on a sort of unspoken radio silence. Why? I have no clue, and all I want to do is get it all out in the open. If we’re on the same page, then fine. But if I’m under the impression this relationship is going somewhere different from he’s thinking, we both need to be aware of that.
At this point in time, I don’t want us resorting back to dropping off the planet from each other for month’s on end like we’ve done in the past.
Only time will tell, however. A part of me didn’t want to give in and text him first, merely so I could see how long it would take him to text me, if he even decided to text me at all. But I gave in about an hour ago and shot one off asking how his weekend was and if he’d want to get together this evening.
Like I said, time will tell.
Other than the three ares of my life trying to figure themselves out, it’s been a pretty freaking spectacular weekend. I was in the best mood ever while at work on Saturday (where my main other coworker quit, so who got asked to pull a double with only 8 hours notice. THIS girl, of course) because I see the light at the end of the tunnel. In three weeks time, I will be starting my new job, and hopefully will never face the possibility of working on Christmas Day ever again.
Sunday turned out to be unbelievably gorgeous, so what else is there to do but hit up the beach on one of the hottest days of the year. We hit the sand, blew up a few kiddie sized inner tubes and floating mattresses, and floated in the lake for a solid hour and a half. Finally dragged ourselves out of the water to grab refreshments and a tropical frozen fruit bar (which was remarkably delicious). Laid on our towels for a tiny bit before flipping ourselves over on the floaties to go back out on the water.
At the end of the day and looking at my tan lines in the mirror, I can happily say I am well-done 🙂
Since I missed it due to my brain exploding in happiness, here’s my overdue reasons (besides the big obvious reason) why my Friday was so Fabulous:
Fabulous Summer Outfit:
Fabulous Video: The Dark Knight Rises meets The Lion King. Winner!
Fabulous Bit of Inspiration:
Fabulous DIY Project:
Fabulous Healthy Summer Recipe:
Fabulous Olympian to Watch:
Fabulous Superhero Obsession:
Fabulous Weekend Calorie Splurge:
Fabulous Packing List:
Fabulous Under Garments:
Make sure to tune and cheer for your country as the Olympics continue to unfold! I know I’ve found myself shouting at the TV on more than one occasion in the last three days, and I’m very upset you can’t live stream simply on the internet so I can watch while I’m at work here. Oh well, if the weather continues to be cloudy, I’ll be plopped on the couch cheering for the good ol’ USA.