The Dumbest Smart Man Ever

6 Mar

I’ve bit my tongue long enough, but it was either this or a rant on Twitter. I opted for the lesser of two evils.

To say that I’m struggling to deal is an understatement. But after several friends (and glasses of wine) telling me to just stop being a baby and speak up, say what I’m feeling blah blah blah, I went ahead and did it.

Now tell me. Please someone explain this. How someone. With ? degrees. From a very ? university. Can be SO clueless. Or at least be so good at playing the part. I figured by bringing it up, a conversation where I could let this all out would ensue. Clearly, didn’t happen. So, I bring to you, this incredibly pathetic post. Apologies in advance.

I like you. Not just like, think you’re an okay human to be around. I opened myself up, foolishly, and somehow you got hold of me. I didn’t want for that to happen, truly. I was finally comfortable in my old skin. The skin that would shamelessly flirt with guys, get free drinks, and then never return texts. The skin that never saved people’s phone numbers. The skin that got annoyed by guys asking me to hang out more than once in the same week. I had sworn feelings off, and I was so okay with it. Meeting you made that skin something I wanted nowhere near me.

Well. That escalated quickly.

After getting waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too drunk the first time I met you, I didn’t think that I would see you again, let alone WANT to see you again. I guess it is kind of funny the way things change.

After my attempt at DTR, I felt a little upset (Read: laid in bed and cried for 20 minutes while my friends hugged me and then went back to the party for a drink), deleted your number, and moved on.

What a joke. I should have known it’s never that easy.

Fast forward to finding out you were going to move. That made the little 20 minute pity party look like a rager compared to the days and nights that I was so *~lucky to experience. I physically felt the pain. And I couldn’t understand why. I knew I wasn’t supposed to like you. I knew that you didn’t feel the same. I knew we would never be on the same pages. But, controlling the mind is evidently a pretty difficult thing to do. I knew it would be a bad idea to see you again before you left, but I knew it would be a worse one to not.

So here we are. Three weeks post-move. And it’s immensely flipping bothersome that I like you. I will be the first to admit, it’s a big deal if I care about you. I’m usually looking out for number one, or my friends. I made the mistake of caring about too many shmucks, so to say I’m choosy is an understatement. It is downright impossible. Why? I don’t trust guys. I would rather not open up. I would rather not let them see me drunk as hell, dancing in a living room with no makeup and no pants. To feel as at ease as I had felt was a truly liberating feeling.

And you fuckin’ left and now I can’t say I’ve been the same.

So, if it wasn’t painfully obvious by now, let me spell it out for you. One. More. Time.

I like you. Got it? I’m sure this will go away eventually, but for right now it’s here and it needs to be said.



How To Deal

20 Feb
  • text your ex
  • text old flings
  • drink four and a half bottles of wine
  • walk alone in the dark without your phone
  • buy 3 pairs of shoes
  • plan a date every night for the next two weeks or so


These are all awful ideas of ways to get over someone. I am currently a few (no I will not incriminate myself and give a number) bottles of wine deep, so the filter is long gone. Sorry Dad. Its been about a week now and I’d like to think I’m doing well with all of this but given that I have done every thing listed above, that is clearly far from the truth.

Please don’t ask me why I got drinks with my ex. Please don’t ask me why he came back to my apartment for more drinks. Please don’t ask me anything about that night. The same goes for old flings.

The wine has been absolutely delicious but I heard that there’s some kind of grape shortage coming up and I am doing the wine industry no favors by sadly chugging some sauv blancs on the couch while Legally Blonde plays in the background.

The walk was pretty refreshing but it’s just really not safe considering I’m very low to the ground, a female, and low key tipsy. I’ll try it again when it’s light out.

My closet is very thankful for this little interruption of my happiness, but to be honest it isn’t like I needed any of these “feel good” gifts to myself anyways. The pink heels though, always a good choice.

I’m about to be exhausted but hey, ya girl is trying to stay as busy as possible so that my mind doesn’t stay occupied by something that doesn’t/won’t/can’t matter. Remember when I tried to do 100 dates in 90 days? A less aggressive version, coming right up. Also, you have this dude to thank for that little *~experiment going to shambles. Had I not caught the feels, maybe I would have finished it.

That’s doubtful. Never mind.

It’s nice that people keep checking in on me but I swear to God if one more person asks me how I’m doing with it, I will absolutely lose my shit. Not even going to pardon my french for that.

I guess I’ve always been pretty awful about handling my feelings, or even talking about them. I remember countless nights in high school when my parents would know something was up with me and I would be in their room bawling my eyes out, but wouldn’t ever budge on telling them what was wrong. For me, it has always been easier to just sweep it under the rug and move on. Orrrrrrrr deal with it in completely unhealthy and borderline stupid ways. I mean really….. an ex? Did I learn nothing from that in college?

However, that little lapse of judgement with Nathan really showed me everything I needed to. As we were leaving the final bar heading towards our Uber, he looked at me and said “I’m not leading you on, am I?” to which I so eloquently responded “I don’t care enough about you for that to happen”. Aggressive? Absolutely. But true? For sure. Of courseeeeeee I care about him. Always probably maybe will. In different capacities. But, he doesn’t have that hold on me like he used to. The last time this was an issue for us, I have to think that it was in large part because I hadn’t cared about anyone since him. This time was a complete 180. I think I needed that, if nothing else to show me that I am capable of caring again. Post breakup I became so cold, almost selfish (and not in the attractive way) that I really didn’t foresee myself giving a shit about anyone other than myself for years to come. Ha. I must be blissfully unaware of my massive heart.

So, tomorrow I will step towards some less idiotic coping mechanisms. Or not. As always, that’s to be determined.


Too Much Going On

14 Feb

The last time I had something to say, it was something along the lines of catching feelings. Don’t do it folks. Just don’t.

The cliftsnotes version of this story is that I got too excited too early and it blew up in my face. I didn’t heed warnings of any of my friends, because apparently I’m either too hard headed or just flat out stupid. I thought I knew what I was doing, because after all, it is suuuuuper easy to manage your feelings, right?

Wrong. Donald Trump wrong.

Against my better judgement, after it becoming very clear that nothing was going to come from whatever friendship was growing, I didn’t cut him off. Rather, I tried to. Deleted the number (which doesn’t work so well when that person is the only one you know with that area code), met other people, and tried to do everything in my power to forget this person. I figured it would be easy, as so many guys before this one were just disposable to me. I had no problem being selfish and looking out for only myself, kicking them to the curb. Until now. And I hated it. I don’t exactly like that someone had such a hold on me, for no good reason. On a date with another guy, I actually had to leave his apartment because I had a panic attack in the middle of our dinner. Why? Because this guy who was so excited about getting to spend time with me, and cooked me some badass Italian dinner, was not who I wanted him to be. And I don’t mean it in the “his eyes weren’t the right shade of blue” or “he’s too short for me”. I mean quite literally, I couldn’t look this guy in the eyes because he wasn’t the one who had been occupying my mind since the first time I met him. Well, more so the second time, since I blacked out on our first date. The point being, I was so wrapped up in this guy that it was actually impacting my search for anything with some meaning. It was the next day at work, when I was telling my coworker about this, that he told me I really should just delete the dude (literally and figuratively) and be done. So, I did. No more phone number, no text message threads, not in my recent contacts. He even made me delete the screenshot of his contact in case I had a moment of weakness. As much as it sucked, I was done.

Until the next day, during the Super Bowl, I got a text from this guy. Kind of expected it honestly, being that we are both die hard Patriots fans. I had to reply. I am so bad at this kind of stuff it is not even funny. A few messages exchanged, and he told me that he was moving back to Connecticut. I swear to god my heart dropped more than it did when the Falcons scored their 3rd touchdown in the first half. I was totally caught off guard. It seems so much easier to be done when things are on your terms. But now, things were actually going to be done. And I couldn’t handle it.

I cried. Not just a soft sob, a full on Kim K ugly cry, into my pillow, for a few nights in a row. I was hurting so bad, and I’m still trying to figure out why. I know we weren’t really anything. I knew we weren’t going to become anything. So why was I so upset by this? I couldn’t figure it out. There are few things I hate more than someone else impacting my mood so much. I’m relatively even keel, and not much can alter my generally happy disposition. It got so bad even my boss noticed. What the HELL was wrong with me?!

So I picked him up from the airport when he got back to Charlotte. He was sick, so I couldn’t even kiss him, and that really sucked. At this point I’m just being a sensitive baby, but given how tough I usually am, this should get a pass. We decided we would hang out the next day, kind of a final hurrah. We got tacos, we watched sports, we just got to be with each other. I feel so corny and lame saying how great it was. We were up until about 6 am, with me knowing full well I had to be at work for 1 pm. I didn’t care. I knew that this would be the last time I would see him, most likely ever. I walked out of his apartment, made it to the elevator and immediately burst into tears. I called my best friend, and of course she made sure I knew that I was allowed to be sad. But was I really? You can’t lose something you never had, yet I felt as if the happiness was ripped right out of my chest. I went to work looking shambly as ever, and barring a few breakdowns throughout the day, I thought maybe I was already over it. Miracles do happen!

Yeah that was so not the case. The next day it had actually hit me. The Duke/Carolina game was on, and I got where I needed to be just in time for the last ten seconds of the game. I really could not have cared less about Duke games before this, but here I was, invested and excited they had won after a pretty rough stretch of games. Oh hell. More rushes of emotion. Can this please just end?

Friday night I went to dinner with some coworkers. I needed to be around people who made me feel worthwhile. After a few too many drinks, I made my way home. I put on my sweatpants, climbed into bed, and I’ll never know if it was the vodka or the fact that I did have feelings about this, but I just couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned all night. The next day after work I texted him (hello, desperate) and said we should grab a drink as a way to have him take a break from packing. Aaaaaaand he wasn’t able to. At that point I was like ooookay we’re done here. I drove for hours. Listened to every kind of music imaginable. Sang at the top of my lungs. Got lost. Got home, went to bed. Woke up with the most “screw it” attitude I had all week. I went to work, killed it, and then went to Target. My plans were to watch Pretty Woman until I passed out and hopefully drink enough wine to forget he was leaving the next day.

Again, your resident idiot (me) texts him something like “good luck with everything” and somehow that turned into me coming over for the last time. And per usual, it was great. I don’t know why but I feel great around him. And for someone who constantly is struggling with major anxiety/depression, it is such a nice vacation from the norm. I helped him pack. We listened to old school warped tour type songs and played air guitar on a tennis racquet. We drank wine. It was as good as every time I had seen him before, but at the back of my mind there was that grey cloud reminding me that I shouldn’t have too much fun, as it would only hurt me more in the long run. Minimal sleep and some pizza later, I helped him carry his last bit of things to his car. That was it. He was about to walk me out and I would have to relive the whole “goodbye” thing again… as if it didn’t suck enough the first time. I put my bag in my car and turned around for a final hug and kiss. That turned into the construction workers on a scaffold above us yelling for us to get a room. Trust me, I’d love to. Goodbye’s are awful. They make you feel things you didn’t know you were capable of feeling. I hope this goodbye was easy for him because I truly would not wish this feeling on my worst enemy. It is not ideal.

So now I’ve had some time to reflect on things. When I tried (and failed) to DTR, he had said he wasn’t sure about what he was doing with his life and he wasn’t looking for anything serious. I immediately called it a cop out. And now, I’m really feeling bad about that. Maybe I’m reaching here, but I have to believe he was a semi decent guy if he was willing to be honest about that, maybe to protect me? Maybe that wasn’t his intent, but I’m going to keep my blissful ignorance for now.

Things hardly work out the way you hope for, but right now I’m just putting my faith in that it’s all for the best. Sometimes the best thing to do is just to fold and play the next hand.



9 Dec

So now that the holiday season is in full swing at work and my social life has essentially come to a screeching halt until further notice, I’ve had a lot of time to get my ish together. My apartment has never been cleaner, finances kept up, and for once, my hair hasn’t been totally sucking. After a liiiiittle over two years of the single life, I think I finally have a pretty good grip on that whole inner happiness thing. You know, when the whole world reminds you that because you’re single, you should focus on being happy alone. Advice taken.

So now that I’m happy (and have been happy for quite some time), I decided to step back into that world. What a flipping nightmare modern dating is. Truly, some guys are absolutely, mindblowingly awful. That really blows for the few and far between good dudes of the world, because after about seven miserable dates, I was about ready to throw in the towel and go back to having fun. But then, I stumbled upon one of those elusive good guys.

And then I blacked out on our first date. Woke up hugging his toilet at 4 a.m. and was so embarrassed, I slipped out and took an Uber home. I laid in bed the whole next day wrapped in warm blankets of self loathing. Go figure, right? Complain incessantly about how crappy guys are, meet a good guy, make an awful first impression. All I could do at this point was apologize.

Then he asked me to hang out again that night. It was then that I wondered if this guy was actually insane. I mean honestly… there was (probably) nothing cute about a super belligerent Abby. Why would he want to see me again? But, he was adorable and super nice, so I decided not to ask questions and just enjoy his company again. Like the good guest I am, I stopped by the liquor store to pick up a bottle of stupid expensive champagne as a “Thanks for dealing with my drunk ass and thanks for wanting to hang out again” gift. I figure it was the least I could do

Fast forward to now. I’m sitting on my couch, half looking at MBA programs, half eating a grilled cheese, and half realizing that I might actually possibly maybe like this guy.


Trust and believe, I don’t go on dates with any expectation other than good conversation and hopefully a good cocktail. Due to my extended hiatus from dating, or feelings in general, I have kind of forgotten how to handle this. I have absolutely no chill. I’m like a five year old. I think my coworkers are sick of it. Any time they ask how he is, I get this big goofy grin on my face. And then they mock me, like clockwork.

However, now that I am *~feeling~* again, I am accepting any and all pieces of advice to help keep my chill. I’m gonna try not to run this one off. Wish me luck!


Hello, it’s me

1 Dec

After a seriously long hiatus, I am happy to say that I’m back! Some minor setbacks included moving, my trusty college laptop breaking on me, and just playing catch up on my life in general. When I saw that I hadn’t posted since July, I could hardly believe it. The past five months or so have been an absolute blur. I guess my mom wasn’t kidding when she said that the older you get, the faster time goes by.

But here we are! I’ve been out of college for a year, switched jobs once, moved twice, lots of new shoes, no new friends, and…. I think that’s it. Life has been pretty uneventful minus the dating scene (this is not where I post about that so don’t even try to pry). Now that I CAN write again, I’m looking forward to it. I’m sure some kind of ridiculousness will come into my life sooner than later. It always does!


All About The Chase

11 Jul

So…. I was a little crazy a few nights ago. Actually, it all started a few months ago.

The running joke at my job is how much of a player I am. Which is kind of true… but I don’t want it to be. I work in sales, therefore I am a social butterfly and love meeting people. I love meeting guys. Interesting ones, with cool careers and 401K’s and condos in Uptown with incredible skyline views who want to go to McCormick and Shmicks for lobster and martinis. Basic ones, with entry level jobs and credit card debt living in studio apartments who will go to Cookout with me at 2 AM because we both want corn dogs. And every guy in between. Why? Because you never know who you will connect with. In any and all of my many sales jobs, it is the clients I least expected that I formed the closest connections with, and I think that taught me a lot about relationships in general. Apparently, social butterfly equates to player. Well, I mean maybe it’s the cases in which I stop returning their calls and quickly move onto the next because I didn’t click with them and don’t feel the need to explain that to them. In retrospect, that sounds pretty terrible because I’m the first to complain about a guy ghosting me. But this isn’t the point.

I am so siiiiiiiick and tired of testing the waters and only ever getting surface level with someone. I might be ruthless in some senses, but I have a big ole heart and want to share that with someone. Yeah, I know that’s mushy and probably goes against “player code” but so freakin’ be it. I think I keep running through rosters in hopes that I will find my Tom Brady. The superstar. The stud (even if it’s just in my eyes). The one who changes the game.

So far…that is far from the case. I have found lots of Johnny Manziel’s, Jordan Rogers’, and Matt Ryan’s. And I mean don’t get me wrong. Manziel dudes are always a fun time and bring the party, but are far from serious. Rogers types are pretty boys that bring nothing to the table but a few past successes. And the Ryan’s of the world… just overall pretty disappointing (mostly in 2015). But if Tom Brady can go from a player no one wanted to four time Superbowl Champ, I think I can be patient too. But in the meantime, why am I wasting my time pursuing people I know will not be in my life for more than a few minutes? As a salesperson, I love the chase. It forces me to get creative, and push people to be on my side and buy what I’m selling. If they buy, I get paid. If they don’t, I still survive. So why push for something where if I lose, I lose hard. And even if I win, I still lose eventually? Because it’s entertaining? Keeps me busy? I’m delusional?

Starting to lean towards the last one. I mean seriously… the most recent guy ghosted TWICE because he “didn’t want to give me the wrong idea”, met up with me, and ghosted again and I’m the one left to be annoyed and overall kind of bummed? Sounds like some BS to me. Is this all bad dating karma? Who even knows. But I think it’s time to stop chasing (even though I do love feeling accomplished) and start letting things happen. You wanna ghost? Fine homie, your loss. You wanna run games? Count me out dude. I understand I’m 21, but after 4 years of this in college, I’m kind of over it. It’s kind of sad to realize how many actually GOOD guys I probably pushed away because their sweet actions pushed me away. For some reason, nothing is more attractive to me than a guy who wont give me the time of day.

So… back to being a player. I tried having a new date every night. And let me tell you it was exhausting. Physically, because the last thing I want to do after a bad shift at work is go on a date that I may or may not be excited about. Mentally, because that’s a lot of names to keep up with. Seriously they started blurring together. There were 4 “MATT CLT” contacts in my phone at one point. There were 2 Evan’s who were thankfully polar opposites so that helped. But countless others. The dinner conversations all started to blur together. I may or may not have confused the places to meet for drinks once or twice. So after a lot of wasted time, I stopped. Not just because of the impact it had on me, but because I felt geniunely bad about it. I mean seriously, I don’t know how some of you guys do it. I understand the whole wanting to enjoy being young while we’re young thing, but forcing it is just ridiculous. I found myself so happy to get to go to my own apartment after work and lay in bed until midnight if I wanted to. I also get to go out on a Tuesday night if I want to. I think that’s the part of being young we should want to enjoy. Not the “being tied down” part, but getting to do what we want, when we want, and not having to answer to anyone part. Being tied down to one person doesn’t sound so bad, if you find the right person. But eventually adulting means having to compromise with your significant other on whether you want to go in or stay out. Pizza or salads. Going to the beach or the mountains. So enjoy the part of your life where you get to truly think for yourself. You don’t get this time back.


This City Reeks Of You

20 May

When I was searching for jobs that I would hopefully have after graduation, the only city I searched in was Charlotte. I thought it was a great city. A real up and coming location just crawling with young professionals. I had tons of friends from school who lived there, and people I had just met through living life. Graduation day came, I packed up my car, and unloaded it in an apartment outside the city. I painted the walls to make it feel more like home, and hung up pictures of myself with my friends and family. Anything to block out the memories that this city held.

Let’s be honest. Before moving here, I had only one reason I was ever in Charlotte and the surrounding area. The first two years of my southern adventure had a lot of time spent in this city, with one specific person. Now that I am here two years after that all ended, I realize that all I know in this city is a bunch of memories. Some good, some bad, and all memories that I would love to not have cross my mind. So, I knew that this was my chance to make new memories.

Once I started my new job at David Yurman, I was acquainted with my incredible coworkers. Suddenly, work felt more like home than the city itself. Why? Because I was surrounded by people who made me feel worthwhile, and understood me. No pseudo friends, who merely saw me as a convenience when others were not around, were in sight. But, after my shift ended, I was forced to come back to my lonely one bedroom apartment, only to be greeted by my cat. Once I got into the swing of things with the new job, I started getting more involved in the city. Met up with young alumni of my alma mater, lots of dates, and finding my way into philanthropic involvement. It was like being back in Columbia, minus the $2 drinks in Five Points, and a hangover cure a la Salty. But, nights and days end, and I was alone again.

Not that there is anything wrong with being alone. I value my alone time very much. However, when my adorable imagination gets the best of me, it can quickly become my worst enemy. I can’t help but remember what this city was to me. No matter what it is now, it does not feel like home. It feels like an empty skeleton, where my past once lived. It feels like a hollowed out story book, filled with pages that say “once upon a time”. It feels like everything I had hoped it wouldnt.

This city reeks of you. It reeks of the past. It reeks of things that I can no longer stand. Well, I should say, it reeks of things that I can no longer have. It’s taken quite the toll on me. Sleepless nights, and days spent in bed because I physically cannot bring myself to leave because the anxiety of running into you is crippling. I have too much on my mind, too much that I want to say, and way too much that I need to think through.

So with that, I think it’s time for me to go to Boston. Where everyone knows my name.


Words I Understand

17 Mar

On my way home from work today, my best friend Shane called to just check in on me. He rocks 150%. I told him how I was feeling, and tried to explain it further but I just couldn’t. He finally stopped me (and thank God because even I was starting to get confused) and said that I needed to just listen for a second. He hasn’t really been wrong yet, so I listened.

Shane works in sales too, but for an NHL team. We met our freshman year at USC when I needed a big strong dude to help me move my fridge (damsel in distress ya heard). Turns out we were both super sarcastic northerners that were here to study business. We just clicked. So here we are almost four years later, still best friends. I can usually count on him when I need a proverbial slap in the face, because hes an aggresive northerner too. He’s seen me fall over drunk almost as many times as he’s seen me cry. That’s part of why he’s such a good friend, as he always is there to help no matter the circumstances. So of course when I told him everything that had happened and how I felt and how confused I was and basically the biggest word vomit ever, concerned friend mode went into full effect. He gets me, so I knew him of all people would be able to rationalize this for me somehow.

Like I said, we both work in sales. It’s a language all it’s own that we both are fluent in. So he told me a little story, which spiraled into some seriously thought provoking conversation. So, let’s start with that story.

“So I spend my days trying to snag some new season ticket holders. I call people. Sometimes it works on the first call, and that’s it. Some people have blocked my numbers. Whatever. But there was this one prospective client.. I called fifteen times. Most people would tell me that I was harassing him at that point. But until the guy told me “No”, there was no way in hell I was going to give up. So I kept calling. And honestly, even I questioned my sanity some of the times. I mean really.. fifteen times? It was pushing overboard, but again, anything other than a rejection is at least a maybe. The sixteenth call, I finally got the guy on the phone. This was my chance, and I wasn’t going to blow it. He knew the value of what I was trying to sell, but I had to reinforce it. The biggest sale of my career later, I have a new happy client, my hard work paid off, and the satisfaction was immense. So you can’t give up. What if that sixteenth call is the call that changes things?”

The dude isn’t wrong. Which I’ll admit sometimes get’s annoying like dang dude are you ever inaccurate? But this time, I was glad that he was spot on. So, what else did this fount of wisdom have to say?

We talked about how as a sales woman, I should be the queen of hustle. I convince people all day, every day, that they need something that I provide. Not just need it, but they cannot run their business about it. I promote the value, I learn the clients budget, location, the whole nine. I analyze businesses all damn day. But I cannot seem to analyze situations with guys well enough to yield any positive results.

“It stresses me out! I know you can do this. I know you speak sales, that you’re a shark. You wouldn’t be doing this if that wasn’t the case. The Abby I know, the freshman year four years ago happy go lucky Abby, wouldn’t settle to get hustled like this. You need to hustle these dudes before they hustle you. Put it this way. If a client came up to you and asked for a free product because they might be interested in purchasing it in the future, would you just give it to them? Absolutely not. You would (and don’t try to deny this) tell them to go to hell. You are selling products that aren’t even yours at a 20% markup. But when it comes to selling yourself, you are showing a low percieved value. Why don’t you think you’re worth more? You don’t know these dude’s willingness to pay. When someone buys something from you, they don’t get immediate gratification. It takes 6 weeks to build, and another 2 weeks to implement. Run yourself like a business. I don’t mean be a hooker. But know your worth. You know in sales that you have to hustle someone so you don’t get hustled. Apply that to your life. You’re better than what you’ve settled for in the last year.”

You’re not going to catch me being a player-ette (if that’s even a word but I know all of y’all are catching my drift with that), but it’s not going to be easy to get me in your life. I gotta look out for number one. Know yaself know ya worth, as Drake would say. People keep telling me to enjoy this time alone; that I’ll only be able to pee in peace for so long, that this is the time to find myself. I have a pretty good idea of who I am, but maybe not necessarily who I want.




The Worlds Worst Talent

16 Mar

I swear I have a knack for something. I always manage to find myself involved with the bad guys who won’t go away, and the good guys who can’t stay. I’m also very good at overthinking a situation until I’m blue in the face and red in the eyes. This week I’ve gotten good at functioning at work on zero sleep at all. The past few days have been a bear for the anxiety I deal with as it is, and I sincerely hope it ends soon.

So, the last time I wrote, I expressed absolute confusion for what the heck was going on in my own mind. Fighting a battle against yourself is probably the hardest one to ever fight. I actually just closed my computer because I really don’t know if I’m going to make it through everything I have to say, but a certain song came on, so I’m going to take that as a sign that I need to. I will however preface this by saying that anything that happened and was talked about with him this past weekend will not be something I discuss. It really isn’t anyone’s business, no matter how much you may care about me or how much you may thrive off of knowing every detail of everything. That all will stay between the two people it pertains to; Nathan and I. And yes, that means that some of you who were under the impression I was alone, I was not. Or if you did not know this happened, now you do. Any texts regarding this will 150% be ignored because I don’t really need to explain my decisions to anyone (upsidedown smiley face).

When you don’t see someone, or interact, or even really think about them for over a year, you kind of forget some things. I forgot a lot. I forgot that this was someone I had once shared my biggest secrets with, cried to, cried about, laughed about stupid Vines with, looked in the eyes and expressed my love to. In the moment everything is kind of a whirlwind. It was the first date feeling without the awkwardness. Once you have a second to step back and actually process what the hell just happened, it can take you a lot of places. Those places aren’t always the warm and fuzzy ones like when people tell you not to cry because it’s over, but rather smile because it happened. Not to say that I didn’t smile to myself on the drive back to my apartment, because I did. The old familiar was welcomed. But walking back into that apartment and being alone, ouch. It was like having my heart broken all over again. That was not a feeling I had anticipated at all. Had that been the case, I wouldn’t have agreed to see him. I’m not interested in inflicting more pain on myself than has already been done in my 21 years.

So naturally I call some friends (and they have all been so amazing the past few days so thank you all for existing). And of course roughly four hours after the fact, I sat down and said that this was the biggest dumbest mistake I had made so far in 2016. I was truly beating myself over it, which is when Lindsey brough to my attention important fact number 1: This was the best thing I could have done. I don’t have to be angry anymore, and neither does he. And that in itself is an outcome worth whatever I may be feeling. I’m really glad that we could at least bypass the bullshit from the past. Admitting it is the first step, and getting past it is the second. So lets wipe our hands clean from that one.

“So remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast I felt like I was drunk.
City lights lay out before us,
And your arm felt nice wrapped ’round my shoulder.
And I had a feeling that I belonged,
I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone…”

Although, I still wasn’t convinced that this was an entirely good idea. I mean seriously, there I was/here I am sobbing big fat ugly sobs into my bed and feeling conflicted in so many ways. My big had noted that it seemed like my apology was stemming from me still caring about him and what he thinks about me. Um, well, that would be true. Which is kind of hard to say. I mean NO girl want’s to openly admit to caring about her ex when things ended badly (even if you wish they didn’t). So I kind of had to sit and think about that. Why would I care what he thinks about me? Why would I care about him? I had just gone over a year without seeing or speaking to this guy. Clearly I was fine. I will say that in that time I had come a LONG way from the blubbering mess I was for the week following the break up, annnnnd the week following me going to Boone on a whim one weekend. And I needed to pat myself on the back for that. It was finally time to focus on me, and look out for number one. I’ve lost almost 20 pounds in the last month, I’m no longer a Diet Coke crackhead, my apartment is finally put together, and I’m doing just fine. So instead of realizing all the awesome progress I made, I beat myself down because I had still messed up in some capacity a year ago. Yeah sure my body is looking better but I’m still alone as hell. Yeah I have a job but do I have anyone to come home to and tell about my day (besides my cat)? Who. Even. Cares. I shouldn’t. But I can’t bullshit the world and pretend that I don’t. This doesn’t mean Nathan specifically, but making the transition from loving boyfriend to big empty bed is kind of hard. The plan is shot to hell and you just have to roll with it. I didn’t think I was rolling so well with the punches, but after some reflection, I found that I was what was turning the tides, and not the other way around. Hell yes to that.

“He is not good enough for you. You are TOO good of a person. You’re funny, a great little and beautiful and you deserve more.”

We are always our own worst critic. Maybe it’s a combination of my modesty (which doesn’t exist by the way), or my complete inability to see my great qualities. I am eternally selling myself short. I know when I kick ass at something. Or if I make a ton of sales at work. Or if I can hold my power legs in Pure Barre the entire time. I have no problem celebrating those wins. However, I will never just ackowledge that I am beautiful. I will say that I’m funny by comparing myself to an Amy Schumer that you can bring home to your parents. I don’t think I’m a great person, because I have been known to screw up sometimes. And sometimes I screw up really big. I didn’t realize by selling myself short, I was practically drilling into my own mind that I would never be good enough on my own. Now I know that to be absolute bullshit. I’ve been on my own for a while, and I’m not like Leonardo DiCaprio successful, but it’s nothing to just brush off. I don’t think it would kill me to work on loving myself more. Not just being aware of my highs, but appreciating them, and appreciating myself for making them happen.

“It’s hard to say what it is I see in you”

So, what exactly do I feel? I don’t know. I mean, I feel like I do, just based on history, which we all know repeats itself. So I don’t know how absolutely necessary it is for me to put everything out in the open. 9.9 times out of 10, I just get more hurt than I was to begin with, and I cannot handle another fucking sleepless night. I wish I knew why he had/has/whatever such a hold on me. I truly do, because then I might be able to rationalize whatever is running through my mind. It’s not like he was my first love. Or was he? I’ll never really know what the deal was with that first relationship… if you wanna talk about dysfunctional, talk to me about that. Actually ya know what? Screw it. He was my first of a lot of things. The first guy I dated long distance. The first guy I believed when he said he cared about me. The first guy who actually tested me. The first guy blah blah blah blah blah. I wish I could tell you that he would be the last guy to ever make me feel this way, but the truth is that there are a lot of fish left in the sea and I’d be willing to bet half of them have mercury poisoning. I don’t know what the future holds, for me or anyone else. I know what I would like it to hold, but as with most things, you can’t always get what you want. Contrary to what I’d like to think, the belief in a thing does not make it happen. So with that, I say yes, I do care for Nathan. I’m unsure of the capacity, but I can’t just not give a shit about someone who was once such a big part of my life. And if anyone expects me to, they can stick it where the sun don’t shine.

“Know troubles they may come and go,
But good times they’re the gold.”

No matter the messes that have happened for the last threeish years, I cannot harp on that. I remember the good times fondly, but it’s time to let go of the bad times. I don’t wish to remember those, nor do I deserve to be taunted by them. The more I sit here and wonder what the hell I’m going to write next, the more I wonder why I’m writing it all here. Shouldn’t I just say exactly what I’m thinking to the person it pertains to? What good is it doing to let it out into the unkown?


The unknown can’t hurt me.


PS – as I’m re-reading this I realize how incredibly risky this was

Old Habits Die Hard

13 Mar

I am not exactly the best person in the world at making sound decisions. I’m impulsive, passionate, and emotional, which does not usually yield good choices. Sort of like, act now, think later, and deal with the consequences way longer than expected. I’m only human with my cross to bear.

It all started when my sister, trying to look out for me in the event I headed uptown on Saturday afternoon, told me that my ex was there, and to be careful. I really had no intentions of going uptown anyway, however that little nugget of information incited something within me. A few hours later, I reached out to apologize to him for being a psycho the past year and someodd months. Because let’s be honest… I was. I can admit when I was wrong, and there were a lot of things that I had said (both in this blog and in conversations) that were out of line and uncalled for. Much to my surprise, I received a counter-apology. And it sounded genuine. Which made it that much better. Harboring hate in your heart is such a damn pain, so clearing the air was just what the doctor ordered. Mindless conversation ensued, and so did an invite to grab a beer later that night.

The wave of panic that fell over me was like a ton of bricks coming from left field. Of course I wanted to grab a drink. But damn if the idea didn’t make my nerves shake… But I figured that I’m an adult and it would probably be a nice idea to grab a truce beer. A combination of my blindness and shaking hands made that drive over to Temple seem like an eternity. After parking, I called my big. I knew she was going to have some comments about my decision, but I at least needed a pep talk at this point, and boy did she deliver. After kind of collecting myself, I stepped out of the car to hear that goober singing to himself. Unsure if he was actually singing to himself, or was singing to make his presence known. But that’s not really important to this story.

The beer was cold, the seat wasn’t the most comfortable, but the company was everything I had hoped for. The conversation flowed the same as it did years ago. He reminded me that my facial expressions had not changed. I don’t really know if I reminded him of anything. But we sat, talked about the past and the present, wondered about the future, and laughed. I think the last part is the most important, since it shows you can go from wanting to punch someone in the arm for 485 days, to letting out the most hearty laugh because of them. It’s funny the way things change.

Speaking of change, my eyesight has completely turned to crap since he was a part of my life. And since he’s blind too, he just haaaaad to see me in my glasses. We left the bar, partially because our beers were done, and partially because of the overly social people beside us. Walking to the car, he was complimentary. Like wow he actually noticed that I put effort into my appearance. I mean, I kind of had to. Not seeing someone in that long calls for such things. Conversation continued, and he asked what I was doing the rest of the night. Since it was a Saturday and I was out grabbing a beer with him, it was pretty clear that my plans were none.  I had picked up a bottle from the ABC store, so we headed back to my apartment to work on that, and continue the good talks.

The rest of the night was important and great, but isn’t really the point of this post so we’re going to move into the important stuff. We woke up slow (like reeeeeeally slow), and I brought him back to his car so he could get back to Boone. I figured he deserved more than an Uber. A few jokes, a hug, and a see ya later, and I was back in my car heading home. And before I knew it, a familiar feeling kind of swept over me. A kind that I had felt so many times before, and I don’t mean when you realize you left your license at home. That was a hard goodbye. Not in the same sense that it once was, but I feel that it was especially hard because for all I know it really was a goodbye. I have no idea if I’ll see him again, or when. And that kind of rubbed me the wrong way. I’ll be totally honest, it’s not like yesterday was the first time he had crossed my mind in the last year and some change.

So I did what any girl does when she needs to analyze her feelings: turned to friends (and coffee). I tried everyone. Melissa, Cassidy, Majel, Shane….. everyone. It’s now 5 hours later and I’m sitting on the edge of my bed on the phone with Shane trying like hell not to cry.

Yeah yeah I cried. No ragrets. I’ve been in this situation before, same person too. And the outcome last time has me terrified for this time. At least now I have a better handle on what it is I’m thinking, though it’s really hard to articulate into words. Maybe I’ll have that figured out the next time I feel like writing.