Tag Archives: single woman

a year older and who would know

I couldn’t seem to muster any fragment of intelligence in the romantic arena this past week. Logic, sensibility, or desire to do anything that isn’t ultimately destructive didn’t appear to be present.

Bailed on a date with a cute guy I met at a bar. We had hit it off that night and he asked for my number shortly after he took my hand and led us off the dance floor to talk. We texted back and forth for several days and set up a date for the next week. So what’s the fucking problem you ask? No idea, I reply.

Hours before the date, I just didn’t want to go on it anymore. I felt like I knew too much about him already, through our texting for almost a week. I guess that what I learned about him I didn’t like? I lost the attraction? The intrigue was gone? All of a sudden the date seemed like a waste of time because I already knew I didn’t want to continue anything with him.

But why did I suddenly care about whether it’s going to go anywhere or not….? I’m in a “have fun” phase currently so why would our future status matter. Why did I abruptly find this fun date so reproachful? I made up some excuse about another guy to get out of it and he actually seemed rather disappointed about it.

The following weekend my ex joins us for bar hopping. Him and I are okay friends and are both still part of a large circle of friends, that are mostly paired off now. I was pretty hammered even before we got to the bar and when my ex got there I pretty much went after him right off the bat.

Danced with him all night and probably didn’t even let anyone else near him. Girls approaching us I probably hissed at and threw ice cubes in their face. I was so lost in it that I missed key things happening in our group through out the night such as someone in our group getting kicked out of the bar. We probably all left the bar with the trouble maker friend and I’m sure my mind was on holding my ex’s hand as we exited instead of hey why are we exiting.

My ex left early and my group finished out the night with some typical drama, losing phones and cussing out bitches who have the phone and don’t want to give the phone back. Sigh, life.

Somewhere in route to Taco Bell I sent my ex a text saying what a good time I had with him and that it got my hopes up.

The next morning with coffee in hand I laughed about the text, brushed it off. Oh silly me.

Three hours later, this time holding a sandwich, and it hits me. Why would I text that? OH MY GOD.

He never responds to it. Probably because he thinks doing so will in fact get my hopes up MORE. Let me throw in the kicker, in a months time he and I will be the only single people at our friends wedding.

Do I just have no self control at all? My friend had even tried to discourage my ex from coming that night because she had a feeling I might do something….not so intelligent. It’s sad that my friends know that certain people cannot go out with us because I will not be able to behave normally.

Eleven thirty am today I was sitting on the curb outside my friends house contemplating parts of this past week while still in my clothes from the previous day and clutching a bottle of wine I had gotten as a birthday gift. I was waiting for a ride because I do not have a car and my friends who took me out for my birthday had taken me to their house for more drinking and I had ended up spending the night.

I’m sure I looked a hot mess sitting there barefoot and hungover. It’s either that or your basic definition of a homeless alcoholic. I was playing with the ripped holes in my jeans and thinking about how I’m 25 now and how hysterical that is. Does any of this sound like someone who is 25? Could anyone deem this person as being a responsible 25 year old? An adult even?

Thinking about these recent dating woes and my current unemployment just makes it look like I’m making all the wrong decisions right? Like I’m fucking up all over and it’s anyone’s guess what I’ll do next.

Here’s the funny part, I think I’m okay with it. For the most part I mean, not fully. I’m not saying I want to go around making bad decisions, but a part of me is not much looking forward to the day when I have to have it all together.

I mean I’m twenty five years old and my life kind of feels like a joke, but it’s a joke I like telling.

crying in the driveway, hi mom and dad

I just want to publicly state, and revel in the shame of the fact that as of yesterday I am moved back in with my parents.

Yup. Humbling. Is humbling the right word?… Humiliating comes to mind. Yes lets replace humbling with humiliating because that is more accurate.

So yes I’m back in my hometown, in my old room, starting my new job tomorrow.
At the least I can say there is a new job right? Does that make it better?

It doesn’t seem better, as I currently look at a card I drew my friend when I was twenty, placed next to an obnoxiously pink fake flower next to cds I bought when I was 18. At least I found a good magazine cut out of Adam Levine, he just gets better with time. The photos hung up around my room are of my friends before they got married, you know, like back when we did things together.

I found tickets to a show that my favorite musician was playing at. I probably had thrown myself at the stage and tried to sing all of his songs the loudest. Two days ago twitter told me he was engaged so should I get used to not seeing him at shows right? Or do married musicians still do things?

So yesterday when I pulled up in my little prias into my parents driveway, my backseat and trunk stuffed to the max, I cried. Yup, just cried in the driveway. Parked the car and latched my arms around the steering wheel and just cried.

I think at some point I should tell my parents that most of that sob session was actually due to the guy I’ve been infatuated with having ended things with me earlier that day. I believe one of the last things he said was “text me when you’re ready, to be FRIENDS.” How about I lose my phone forever instead.

Now granted I didn’t expect to show up at my parents house with all my stuff, all smiles and bursting with pride, but I didn’t expect to start bawling upon arrival either. Remind me to tell my parents thank you, for letting me live with them for awhile, and that I didn’t mean to start a cry fest the moment I got there.

So yeah, not the best start. But now I’m going to rifle through my journals from fourth grade and remember when I used to be real good at tether ball.

A pen? I’m not familiar with this word

This past Monday night I screamed MY LIFE IS COMPLETE, I CAN DIE NOW, FINALLY!!, and other novelty exclamations about having finished my life’s work and giving the world permission to end now.

Because I finally got his number.

I mean it’s been a year people. A whole flippin year of being infatuated with one person and this Monday night I got his number.

Do I care that in a weeks time I’ll be living in a different city that is about three hours away? No. Okay well maybe a little, but mostly No. Because I did it! I did that thing! That getting the number thing! I got the number of the guy I literally think about on the daily, who I wait extremely impatiently to come in every day, who is so cute it’s hard to think.

He comes in to tell me that he will be out of town for my last week at work, that this will be the last day he’ll see me. I was pretty sad but I had known that I would only see him a couple more days anyway.

And then he says, “Do you have a pen?”

I look at him blankly. Seconds pass and I’m still looking at him.

A pen…hmmm…I feel that I should know what that is.

I love that in this moment I know that there is indeed a pen in my apron pocket, but those signals have no intention of telling my mouth at all. Finally after probably an eternity I fish it out of my pocket, shocked that it could be found in this pocket where I always have it. I give him the pen (somehow) and he writes his number down on a card and says here is my number if you want to keep in touch, you can call or text me.

I just want to state that I could not love him more for giving me his number even though I couldn’t figure out what a pen was.

Now the ending of this story is amazing. Like amazing. Did he swoop me into his arms and dip me into a deep kiss as the sun was going down? No. But did I crazily sprint to his car like a psycho? yes.

I was still behind the bar when he left the store. We kept saying bye and then finding something else to talk about and then we’d say bye again. Finally he was really leaving, we said bye and we both paused standing there before finally he went out the door.

And then I stood there, and it all felt so unfinished. This is when I slightly lost it.


Her words did the trick “fucking go. go right now”

And I did. I was sprinting out of the store while taking off my apron. I was sprinting out of the store and around the corner. I sprinted almost all the way up to his car, where in my panic that I thought he was leaving, I knocked on his passenger side window. He was getting out of his car by the time I was at the drivers side door. I can’t remember exactly how this moment went down or what words I said really, I think I said something to the extent of I don’t know when I’ll see you again so would it be okay if I gave you a hug? He must have said yes because next thing I know were in a full embrace.

I remember almost nothing after the hug. Like seriously nothing. I know he smiled and I smiled and I said something and looked down a lot and then he said something? Ah well, I mean the hug was a big thing for me, it can’t all be perfect.

Safely back in the store is when I began to scream about how the world can end now, I’ve had a full life now, life is complete, etc. My coworkers were all very excited for me, when they weren’t laughing hysterically about the way that whole event unfolded.

Two days later and I’m still sitting here like damn, I have his number. Can you believe it?

and that hug wasn’t so bad either…

When even your mom is thinking it

not sure why this memory resurfaced, or how I had managed to forget the incident in the first place…

Maybe my mind did one of those protective let me save you from reality techniques where it blocks out the event entirely, but then I suppose it’s not completely full proof based on how I’m remembering right now…

Last week my mom told me I should online date.

Maybe all of your moms have been saying that for awhile now and this post is like umm errr..ok what’s the big deal? The big deal is that my mother has never portrayed marriage or boyfriends as a big deal. She is more of the just do that when you’re ready but take your time because you’re still damn young kind of moms.

Even she must see the path of forever singleness that I’m planted on, which has given her away to worry, which is why she doth speak the name of an online dating account.

What was most disturbing about the dialogue is that when I told her, “I’ll start online dating when I turn 30” Her response: you probably won’t have as much luck when you’re 30, better to start now while you have good pickings.

Now granted those aren’t the exact words because my overly protective mom of a brain won’t relay to me the entirety of the conversation, but I swear to you those words were close and that vibe you get from the conversation, that you’re running out of time to find someone decent online vibe was intensely present.

Just typing this into my computer screen right now is frightening. I think there was a good reason why my short term memory hid this from me.

And could my mother be right? When I make that online dating account at the age of 30, will the other 30 year olds be nauseatingly creepy and awkward while all those 25 year olds on the same site are striking up golden matches and bliss?

Ugh. I just want to meet a guy at a bar and be done with this.