Tag Archives: single

Cakes and Categories

One of the hottest women of my acquaintance delivered a cake to me, made for me, just for me this weekend and I feel like the universe is finally getting my voicemails.

Even if I have to watch this girl bring a cake to every one of my coworkers over the next week, this moment still stands in the Top 10 Things I Actually Want to Remember About This Fucking Year.

I asked for her number that same night that she brought the cake in, all in nerves and rambling but received minimal words and mostly smilies via text after and since then I’ve been pretty much all real smiles myself. There are also so many Marie Antoinette quips that I want to make but I don’t even know where to start with them, you all are welcome.

I wish I could stand a little sturdier in my certainty about her being 100% interested, but if you’re like me at all and you’ve placed people into romantic categories, you know that certain categories come with little chance of returned favor, and so when they show up with cakes you can react internally at yourself like this:

It’s a cake you dumb fuck not a date

Jumping to the don’t get your hopes up is such a reflex! As a serial non-dater who hates rejection passionately, I have created categories for self protection, specifically to not find myself reaching for people beyond my reach, if you know what I’m saying.  It’s like universal law, you can’t just go after ANYONE you like, there are rules! Categories! And these categories help me manage expectations.

The categories of crushes are informally ushered in as the following:

The Objects

Don’t think actual objects, think instead the phrase “object of my desire.” Folks in this category are tangible, meaning you touch them, brush shoulders with them, you are in their society. The Objects are people in my groups of friends, coworkers, classmates, neighbors and roommates. You are almost constantly with people in this category and often you show at least a handful of commonalities or shared interests, for example if you’re both around age 26, then drinking would be your main interest and also commonality.  What’s great about crushing on someone in this group? You get to get all tangled up in those feelings all the damn time because if you’re not around this person then you’re at least seeing their witty remarks in group texts. What is sucky? When you get to see them hitting on other people/are asked for help to help them hit on other people.

The Elites

This is basically your highest category, the most unattainable, giving you least reason to exercise any potential hope. These are folks who shouldn’t be seen with you and you wouldn’t expect them to! Call it being rich or just of a higher social class, these folks just feel out of reach and whom you have no intersecting groups or connections with. Those crushes in this group have far superior social graces so they will always be kind to you in passing but who feel more like local celebrities than friends. Elites in my world often times look like a bosses niece or nephew, a trainer contracted to come out to my work for a seminar, an out of town relative to the bride and groom at a wedding, a coworker of a  friend of a friend. In general these people don’t appear too much in my society so seeing them is temporary. What’s great is that those small glimpses leave a lot to the imagination of who they really are and they millions of ways they could fall in love with you, were you a completely different person. What’s sucky is that you might feel that you can’t measure up, that you wore your best skirt but it doesn’t even strike a cord to their level of fashion.

The Runners

This is  a middle ground between the two groups, where people fall a little bit closer to the standards of your particular society however they still are not completely available. Named The Runners because to you, they appear always on the move, always in the lieu of change, and you can’t keep up. Moments with them are fleeting, think of the phrase “sorry, you just missed him.” “sorry, she just stepped out.” That is what this group is like, you are trying to find your footing but the plates spin too fast. Folks in this group are my roommates brother who comes into town for holidays and has a lot of people to catch up with so you take him in in small doses when feasible. It’s your good friends old college friend in the city for the weekend and suddenly you are volunteering as to go to all the group wine tastings, brunches, and drunk mcdonalds trip there are, but then the weekend is over. A symptom of crushing on someone in this group is though it can feel like there is never enough time. You want to impress them, learn about them, but every time they slip back into your world you start over. What’s good about this type of crush is that it saves you from the monotony of your Object crush or Elite crush, and gives you someone to think of and then long for when they leave the next day. The sucky thing is that well they leave just as you’ve made some progress.

My new cake-bringer-gal, whose name is Pearla by the way, is firmly rooted in The Runners category. Though she is on my playing field and becoming more connected to my coworkers she still remains a passing ship for the most part. It’s like going to sit down as someone gets up to leave, that feeling of wishing you had been there two seconds earlier.

Pearla has been my unspoken crush for awhile until I blurted it out to coworkers two months ago and to which they began a silent mission to make me a  more bold version of myself. In truth it is them, my coworkers and their almost annoyingly constant encouragement that made it seem plausible that there could be something between me and someone so engaged in a million other things and seemingly oblivious to me. After much positive feedback from the coworkers, I gave her a drink on the house one time and she brought in pastries for me same day. I then approached her for more conversation that normal and she stayed awhile to stir her coffee a little longer, and  then about two weeks ago she began to ask my coworkers where I was on my nights off.

All that to say that for all the good my categories do at self protection, had I not been encouraged to take a step outside of them, I wouldn’t have this memory of a beautiful girl smiling at me over the top of a cake. I also wouldn’t have a memory of one of the strangest nervous laughs of my life but focusing back on the cake moment, the cake moment!

I do stand by my categories and their usefulness to me specifically but I am glad in this moment that I was pushed out of them. I really do not think that Pearla would have noticed me had I not done some things to get her attention, and I owe it all to my coworkers who see more possibilities than I do and who also love to stir the pot lets be honest, who doesn’t want to see other coworkers get into messy dating scenarios and have things to gossip about for months?

The hardest part might be coming up soon, how do I keep a Runners attention? Our texting has already slipped into some monotony and silence, not having taken a deeper course at all, I may have to step up and formally ask her out, continuing to put myself in her view before she runs off to the next adventure.

If nothing else I have a great memory or two, a little experience with putting myself in someones path, and I might make 2017 the Year of the Cakes! Instead of Year of the Fuckboy,s which was my prior working title, Calories over Asshats? I’ll let you guys know where I land on that, in the meantime, enjoy all the sweets because life is short and romance is all through text anyway!

 

 

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“You’re Welcome”

Was how the most cringe worthy text of life ended, from a boy I hooked up with the night before.

Hooked up being a loose term, performed a shitty hand job is probably closer to the truth.

I’m going to confess something to the internet as a whole that I know I have no ability to justify, no rational to provide,

I asked this boy out for beers and in the beginning of the date he tells me his parents are dead, 3 beers later he tells me actually his dad is not.

I. STILL. TEXTED. HIM. THE. NEXT. DAY.

Like I stated, I have no excuse. My only possible pardon is that I’ve had a crush on him for years and I was blinded by my vision, my conquest if you will.

I know, still.

Why though? For what purpose does this serve? Sympathy sex? I’m out having beer number four with you and it’s pushing 1am, aren’t the odds already in your favor?

Ugh anyways the OTHER main problem with this guy is that he comes in this shy-nerd-oblivious-awkward-nice guy packaging but is in truth a fuckboi and a pretty shameless one at that.

After blowing me off after our “hookup” a month ago after saying “You’re welcome” in response to my text thanking him for the beers and telling him I wanted to hang out again (stupidly), he now texts me “hey is this you?” I respond briefly and wearily and suddenly it dawns on me, HE HAS NEVER USED MY NAME.

Not once. Not one time. Oh my god.

So I poke a little bit, do you really know who this is? Who is it then?

He scooped around the poison I was laying out, “I figured it was you,” “of course I know who this is.”

Sadly it was THIS that caused me to officially never respond to him again. Like put it down on the books I am outright ashamed that I went anywhere near this guys dick.

My lack of response could not deter him though, the last thing he texted me was:

“Send pic”

Insert *I am screaming* here.

He is alluding to when I did in fact drunkenly send him some compromising pictures of myself and is obviously wanting me to send more now, but a month too late and without a name, no siree.

Also, when I actually did send him those photos many moons ago, it was actually one of the most degrading experiences of my adult life.

Has anyone ever sent someone nudes and the other person said basically in so little terms that you’re doing it wrong?

Before then, I had never sent someone a picture of that nature who wasn’t immediately grateful and or elated.

These are great please send more! – is the overall theme of responses.

Anyways the point of all this is not that I’ve lost all common sense but actually how I bought into the nerd shy guy narrative to such an extent that I was actually still pursuing this person.

Here are some examples of the Shy Nerd Guy elements experienced:

  • nervous side hug
  • tries to impress you with last time he went drinking, clear that he doesn’t drink a lot
  • doesn’t know how to ask you to go to the next bar
  • looks down a lot
  • very excited about school but doesn’t want to bore you
  • waits until almost end of night to touch your knee after a lot of beer
  • fumbles around trying to ask if you want to “hang out” after the bar. Is so unclear and mumbly you have to intervene and help spell it out for him.

Now here are some of the Fuckboi ones:

  • responds 6 hours later to your asking them to get beer with you with a “maybe i’ll stop by”
  • doesn’t ask a thing about you
  • talks about concerns about his new school
  • complains about the beer
  • keeps saying over and over that he doesn’t want to seem uppity or showoffy when people ask what school he goes to. (Good fucking god it’s just a UC get over yourself)
  • absolutely refuses the idea that he could be drunk
  • says they can’t have you hang out at their place, but is your car here?
  • replacing your hand that’s around their waist to their back instead
  • masturbates in front of you awhile because your hand job wasn’t up to par

Awkwardness and intellect don’t equate human decency or kindness to women essentially.

Can anyone else believe how many asshats I’ve gotten involved with in this past year alone? It’s a little startling. Luckily, kind of, I’ve had some health stuff come up this past month which has kind of taken me out of the running for dating and hookups for a bit. I’m actually grateful. Even reading this now I don’t know how I was chasing someone THAT awful, Christ.

Well I do hope for some of you out there that this is a helpful word of caution, and do watch out for your local nerds, that sweater vest could be borrowed from a roommate!

I’m Awake

While you stay sleeping.

Is the start of my most recent sad/pathetic poem I wrote, because I am nothing if not a stereotype.
Some other recent pieces of work have titles such as:

“The Walls that Say Nothing”
“That Night”
To call it cringe worthy would be an understatement.
Funny that my poems mention nothing about almost peeing in my neighbors bushes, which is the true highlight of the whole thing.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have fallen for The Boy Next Door.

No, but like literally his door is right next to mine and he sleeps feet away in the room next to mine.

I didn’t see it coming and had you told me that one day I’d wake up, devestated that he doesn’t want to discuss the foundation of our blossoming relationship, I would have LAUGHED and told you that you were the dumbest shit person alive.

Two weeks ago at a packed bar one night me and Boy Next Door have the most PG drunk hookup you’ve ever been bored enough to consider.

Like we’re talking long hugs and hand holding, which was  hotter than a drunk and  sweaty make out sesh, yes it’s baffling.
Then there’s me the next day, waking up with all the feels for a boy that I think I ignored the day before. Because i was eating?

We cross paths for the first time since “the night” and I watch myself  in slow motion putting my hand on his shoulder and saying “hey” as sultry as I know how.

Because it’s totally mutual right? I mean he hugged me,  held hands with me and was all about me, so…….

It’s like I’ve learned nothing from my own god damn blog.

In short, there was nothing returned and it was never spoke of again.  A Very Short Tale of Two People Who Never Had Sex. The End!

That night I couldn’t sleep a wink. Every peaceful YouTube video of harps and piano chords could not drown out the overwhelming anger I had at the person lying feet away.

I was also pretty angry with myself truthfully. To become such an idiot in such a short amount of time, I basically realized he was alive two days ago, how about we calm down.

The next night I decided to come at my inability to sleep with a new strategy. Sleeping pills and and cough syrup usually lend me down the road to obscure and terrifying nightmares, so I went with beer.

Arrived at a bar and requested  ever so daintily “whatever has the most alcohol”
and drank whatever she gave me pretty damn fast.

I am at a liquor store not even an hour and a half later picking up the biggest bottle of the highest percentage IPA there is in the store, it’s time to stop fucking around.

My new plan is to chug it in my car outside my house, because I can’t let Boy Next Door see me openly binge drinking, he’ll want to drink with me because we’re just two bros, having a cold one.
Hmm large beer, no bottle opener. I try and fail and now have two forever scars on my right index finger.

Buy a bottle opener because none of my friends are awake or helpful or as panicked about sleep as me, and get into my car and then drive it just down the block a little bit to comfortably sit in the dark next to a not too lit up neighbors house, thinking here we go I’ll just get to enjoy my beer and listen to some tunes.

What I didn’t know was how soon into this I’d have to pee.
Imagine being so determined that you have to pound a beer in order to sleep, but also  that your bladder is equally as determined not to drown. This is a battle of wills!

 

Now in reality I have peed in public probably five times. I’ve peed outside a bar at 3am, the front lawn of my college, a back alley and what my hazy memory tells me was the side of a hookah shop.

Needless to say I’m no stranger to it, but on a quiet residential? I’m technically not even drunk yet and never peed outside while stil in full reign of my mental faculties. I like to think that if I was trying to recall peeing somewhere in the open, that at least I could claim having very little memory of it. Oh the parking lot of jack in the box! That was the other one.

So anyways I circle some neighbors bushes for two minutes before realizing that I’ am way too sober for this, drive my car back down the street up to the house, chugged  the remaining 3/4 of the beer and ran.

When I was unlocking the front door, in the most pain of life, I remember being grateful that all the appeal that he had had for me was dead probably  the second he had walked back to his room that night, because me peeing my pants on our porch was only going to help solidify the fact that we’d never have sex in this lifetime.

Made it into the house, peed for an abnormally long period of time, tiptoed to my room and passed out probably from the exhilaration of being the biggest “badass” ever, if the term badass has changed over the years,  and now means “drinks alone in cars” then yes I am a poster child of that.

One positive that has come out of this, I was catalyzed to officially end things with One Night Stand Guy, who I’ve slept with a handful of times over the past few months while wishing on stars that I could develop feelings for him, but then failing  to remember to text him back for the sixth time that week.

Part of ending things with him last week was that  I didn’t want to be a shitty person and string him along anymore, since now I was feeling strung along and equally shitty.

The other reason is simply this: I could not  make feelings happen by sheer will of wanting them to.

In the span of one night I had now uncontrollable infatuation for Boy Next Door, yet I’ve been hoping crazy attraction for One Night Stand guy would one day just appear because he is cute and smart and super into me.

This for me was more of a you-can’t-control-who-you-are-attracted-to-even-though-it-would-be-way-fucking-easier-kind of lesson. And it’s annoying.

I will now return to the poem I was writing about soap and crying trees, wish me luck!

lets call her Kyla

A name I made up for the girl who ripped out my heart after buying me a beer.

This isn’t true actually, she’s actually extremely lovely and extremely hot and really should be dating more of an Instagram model type so I bare no hard feelings because I’m pretty sure my gym membership is just decoration for my key chain, is my credit card even on file over there?

I will say that the several weeks of texting Kyla and the one date we had was so great that I can’t even be mad that it’s over, because I’m just so glad it happened.

After that one amazing date of extreme attraction (my end) and some minimal attraction (her end) and a lot of similar interests/topics (feminism, saving animals, roommates who don’t know proper wine etiquette, lack of time for reading, and of course lastly, parents who would rather tell their friends that you dropped out of school to start a jewelry shop on Etsy then explain that you date girls now), we wrapped up our date that had started at a restaurant and migrated to a bar, and I told her I would text her tomorrow.

Kyla and I texted for two more days before ultimately she never responded, but within that two days my brain was going haywire. I was so into her and I started secretly PLANNING little dates (in my head) that we could go on.

These weren’t like good plans like where you have venues, and people hiding, and where I have to show up an hour before, but the kind of planning where you’re thinking about the time of day you should take her, would it be too cold to take her there at night? Should it be a surprise? Like on Hitch where he provides a wetsuit for her when he takes her to that island? How hard would it be to bring up in conversation what size she wears? And then you’re kind of shocked with yourself even that you want to do this many activities willingly AND that you are excited about them. I thought of six different dates I could take Kyla on and it’s just so crazy this all coming from the person who takes so little action in relationships ever, and let me just tell you about these six dates, please?

1. A hike on the trail near my house. I would tell her to wear running shoes and I would bring water bottles for us and pack a bowl of chopped up fruit for us to nibble on underneath a tree for a break that we both (me) need.

2.Finding a place to go wine tasting in her neck of the woods, near where she is going to grad school. I would take her there and then that could become a spot we might go to when I come out to her area so she doesn’t have to drive as far but we have a place to hang out.

3. I actually recently obtained a picnic basket and blanket and was like um hello third date starter pack.

4. Going to the nearby park to kick around a soccer ball and and then afterwards go to the little restaurant around the corner for a late lunch, this girl is pretty outdoorsy I don’t know if you’re picking up on that.

5. Getting a tiny bit fancy and going to a play downtown. Preferably something with some feminist undertones or maybe even written by a lesbian!

6. This last plan came to me from the far crevasses of my most mushy romantic self, I call it “Candle Lit Everything” which is essentially taking the notion of a candle lit dinner and adding cocaine and you have no actual lights used because everything is candles, and then you make the food you’re serving her look like candles, and then you ask her if you want to celebrate her birthday early because um hello candles, and then you sing “beeeee my guest, be my guest…” such as the candle sings from beauty and the beast and then your date excuses herself to the bathroom and you hear her calling a cab outside.

All this to demonstrate, sometimes you just wanna woo a girl, ya know?

So anyways yes she is gone, yes I am sad, but more then that I am excited by the idea that another date could be as good as this one. Maybe I could even become good at dating? I think that’s kind of a stretch seeing as how I just confessed to fantasizing about singing this girl a Disney song surrounded by small flames, but who knows! Maybe I’ll learn to sing!

is my instagram hot enough?

Words I never thought I’d utter. Well technically I didn’t utter them I thought them, but I suppose writing it down here for the viewing of others could be considered an utterance? Ugh now I’m thinking about cows.

I suppose I’ll say that I never thought that I’d be taking a deeper look into my own social media, and  myself asking the question: is this hot enough?

It hadn’t occurred to me that my Instagram account or any social media platform could sway the odds of getting texts from a boy (I really want to quote the Hunger Games here, but notice my restraint) and I’m still not sure it really does but….

Regardless, I’m concerned.

I found evidence of this theory by way of the new Jordan Sparks song “Double Tap” which illustrates the importance of a “hot Instagram”, and her video provides a quick guide on obtaining boyfriends by taking videos of yourself smiling, and then laughing, and then smiling.

Perhaps I could make myself a second Instagram account in which I compile masses of only the best pictures of myself, so boys know that yes my hair does shine like gold whether I’m inside or outside (thanks IG filters) and I can look to the side, or straight! I’m so complex and symmetrical.

In reality I’m not going to do anything at all and I’ll be changing zero things about my Instagram or any other form of social media because trying to impress a guy at the bar that night and then taking a picture and posting it the following morning to keep him impressed makes me feel tired.

And how do I keep that up? Eventually he would see me without makeup right? I’m just assuming, maybe there is actually a way to blind him temporarily each night until you put your foundation on in the morning, maybe like a flashlight that you shine in his eyes and that also deletes his memory, of you shining a flashlight in his eyes.

Anyways back to how this Instagram stuff all came up, I met a boy at a club, we exchanged numbers, talked the next day, he asked what my Instagram account was, I told him, and then,

radio silence.

Suddenly he has a car problem now and ends his text with “maybe next time”

Message received my friend.

I guess pictures of my breakfast, cats, books, and that one where I’m in the back of that car in a beanie just didn’t do it for him. Ugh why didn’t I post more pictures of dogs, ALL IS LOST

Luckily I have a delicious breakfast plus the Instagram feeds of many cat lovers to catch up on and you know that Jordan Sparks song is actually quite catchy, try watching the video too maybe, but don’t video yourself doing the smiling, laughing and than smiling again because that’s hers.

fantasy cloud

I have been in deep mourning all afternoon (drinking lots of wine, listening to some of Miguel’s softer songs) over a boy, but yes just like every story I ever tell he has minimal idea who I am and conversations we’ve had are mostly pleasantries.

Basically I’m the worst that I subject people to stories about what goes on in my mind with these strangers, but if you do feel like being subjected then remember Hudson from my last post? He was a crush potential that was forming after my online date went flat.

Yesterday Hudson arrived at my work after about three weeks of being gone. Gone on a trip? I have no idea but he hasn’t been there. Naturally me being me I presumed our reunion would come with an explanation of his absence, a heartfelt greeting, and the resuming of our natural chat. Instead he ignored me, and got everything he needed as quickly as possible and left.

My mind formed several conclusions, starting out extreme and ending with acceptance. He hates me. He literally loathes me. He hasn’t come in in three weeks specifically to avoid me. He figured out that I liked him and now he doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t care about not seeing me.

Or maybe he isn’t as interested in me as I thought he was.

BINGO.

The fall out of hypothetical relationships is the worst because only you yourself knows that you’re heartbroken, and how do you talk to your friends about a love that blossomed in your mind but only in your mind?

My roommate consequently same time is going through actual stuff with her ex-boyfriend. Should she cut the ties? Should she keep a friends with benefits thing going? Should she see other people?

Meanwhile my moral dilemma looks more like; Why doesn’t he come in anymore? Does he like my coworker more than me? Why didn’t he wave back at me?

Huge difference in the actuality of actual things happening in her scenario versus what I perceive to be taking place in mine.

Even look at the words used for the roommates boy problem. I used the word “should” because there will be a decision or action of some kind, where as with my problem I use the word “why” which dictates I’m simply throwing out questions to the wind. Asking questions to myself because there will be no decision about them, no plan of action. Hudson and I will continue to make pleasantries for awhile to come, while yet my mind accumulates more and more “why”‘s about our very basic customer service relationship.

God I sound crazy.

Lately I’ve really been missing the mark with boys, like more than usual. Everything I’ve assumed, I’ve been wrong about.

Take a newer crush that I took on in the almost month long period that Hudson was absent. This crush was a barista, not the most attractive ever but he did talk to me and was sweet and seemed interested, and I very quickly made that coffee shop a regular part of my after work routine.

Two things I assumed: He was single and that him giving me a free coffee that one time meant something.

Cut to me at his coffee shop the following week spotting him at a small table in the back, holding hands and talking with his girlfriend over a cup of coffee, which he probably gave her for free also.

At this point now I’ve lost the barista (who I never had) and I have no Hudson, and then top it off with the coworker I thought had a crush on me, quits for a new job, and first thing he does is text the most annoying female at my work. Clearly I know nothing about anything.

My realization in the midst of this is that I have no grasp on when people actually have feelings for others because I fantasize that there are feelings everywhere and between everyone. How do you know if feelings are actually there and not just in your imagination?

What are relationships in reality even like? In my reality nothing happens,which is the part I can’t stand. Do any other dreamers or INFPs relate to this? I feel like I’m just now poking my head out of my cloud for a brief second and looking around, just curious before I disappear back into fantasy land. If someone walks past me as I stand next to the door of my cloud – which is half open because I’m ready to run back inside it – maybe I’ll ask, maybe I’ll ask about relationships.

A person does walk by and I dip into my question about relationships. I’m scared the person will tell me I have to ask someone out, and I’m even more terrified they’ll give me a list of things I have to do to get a guy. The person begins to get a little long winded so I’m looking down the hallway of my cloud door looking for another person to ask or at least interrupt this one.

As I’m forced to listen to this person because no one else is walking by to save me, and I’m not quite ready to disappear back into my cloud with out at least getting some sort of vague answer, I realize everything this person has been talking about is real. Like stuff the person and their partner talk about or do or say or have done or have said. They actually did things.

It all sounds real and I’m not sure I even like it because it sounds like there can be like conflict or something? And everything isn’t a rainbow? I feel unsure still as I thank the person and step back inside my cloud of fantasy and idealism where it is safe, but I sort of hope I venture out again sometime.

why 2014 was so wonderful despite having zero dates

If 2014 had a hand, I would shake it. Probably too enthusiastically, while misty eyed with gratitude.

2014 would probably try to pretend they had an errand to run or an appointment they had to get to, to rid themselves of the outpouring of all my affection, but I can’t help myself. 2014 I love you!

It won’t make sense to you I’m sure, I had not one date for the whole year. Not ONE. What?

But seriously, who gives a fuck? This year has been sensational. Yes I lived with my parents and than a stripper but now I live with my best friends and no strippers!

A handful of weeks before 2014 was over, the nonprofit I’ve been working part-time for asked me to go full time with them. I have loved the work I’ve been doing with them for the past year and I think the contentment I felt with being a part of their team has overridden some of the more negative things of this year, like moving out my belongings at night while my stripper roommate was out, well stripping.

In 2014 I discovered I was an infp through the myers-briggs personality test and then through learning about my infp-ness I have found all my crazy and misunderstood, understood!I no longer blame myself for not thinking the way others do, especially when it comes to romance. I also readily accept that I oftentimes prefer the pretend relationships that go on in my head over the real ones – is that zero date thing making more sense now?

Thinking back on everything though, it blows my mind how that terrible job I took in 2013 that moved me back here led me to my current job. It blows my mind that it took living with a stripper to force me to move in with one of my best friends and my ex, and now I couldn’t imagine anything I wanted more. Well besides a cat, I really want a cat.

2014 just makes me feel lucky. Like I’m the prettiest girl in the ballroom and Mr. Darcy noticed me lucky.

The last date I was on was that guy from the wedding, do you remember? He lives on the east coast now. He made the decision to go there minutes after our date ended. He was on a plane by that evening. I hear he has a beard now.

I want to tell 2014 again how much I love them but I fear they are going to begin blocking my calls. I have enjoyed our time spent together and I just hope they know that.

(2014 you my main bisch)