NY: Expectations vs. Reality

Expectation:
I would go on plenty of dates. 

Reality:
NO MAN has paid for a single meal for me in New York City. No man has taken me out to dinner. No man has asked for my time for more than a day or a few hours ahead of time. DRINKS THOUGH?! Yeah… they'll buy me drinks. They'll take me on a date to a bar, late at night. They don't want to date… they just wanna get it in. I'm sayin'. 5 months in NY and I haven't been on a legit sit-down-dinner-date. Ohh and to be honest, I've probably only gone on a couple dates to begin with. This is partially my fault, because I don't give out my time that easily, but not many have actually asked for it.

 . . . . . . .

Expectation:
I'd dress so much better. I'd shop in SoHo. I'd pretty much fashion kill it, in my own sense.

Reality:
False. My ass still online shops Forever21 on the regular. TopShop is still expensive-AF despite my pay increase. My steez has not changed much just because I've moved to a bigger city. However, I guess I've slightly evolved? I never expected to wear heels as much as I do. I cannnnnnot leave the apartment without at least three accessory pieces. STILL—not as "grown-lady-NYC" as I would like…

 . . . . . . .

Expectation:
I would cook, again.

Reality:
AIN'T NO BODY GOT TIME FOR THAT. Ugh. Cooking for one is a bitch. Its a waste to go grocery shopping then have ingredients spoil in your fridge because you never needed that amount to begin with OR you get a random invite to go out after work instead. I've learned it is way more cost-efficient to only buy food I am immediately going to consume or buy the bulk of my necessities in the freezer section of Trader Joe's.

 . . . . . . .

Expectation:
I would freelance my way through my career in NY.

Reality:
I am a fluke. I am the exception to the rule. I am amongst the small minority of people who come to NY without a fuck and succeed in a way they did not imagine. In all honesty I had no expectations for myself as far as my career went, it was not high on my priorities list. I just wanted to survive over here. I didn't expect the career jump and I never imagined it would happen as swift as it did. I am definitely blessed as far as this goes. So although I can't find a man who finds me worthy enough of a dinner, or I still dress the same and pay extra money for food because I am lazy, at least I'M GETTIN' IT all by my damn self. Cheers to that.

Solo Highlight Reel

In the past year I have racked up miles. I've managed to hit up the following: 

Vegas / Kauai / Oahu / Palm Springs / Chicago / Vegas / San Diego / Santa Barbara / Moved to NYC / Cancun / Punta Cana / Home / Cooperstown / Philly 

I am going back to Vegas in 1.5 weeks, then I will be back home in exactly a month.

I've never been on this many trains, planes and automobiles in my life.

Vagina + Heart vs. Brain

I like to think I have dude-logic. Hah, key phrase "like to think..." It stops my head from spinning into stupid tangents and illogical scenarios in which women have a tendency to fabricate in their heads. In short, it stops me from being lady-crazy. Yes—I am generalizing on behalf of my entire female population. Sorry not sorry.

My vagina and heart are currently in an on-going argument with my brain.

Last week I unexpectedly met a guy I found interesting. I already told all of you, I have a hard time accomplishing this.

I was doing just fine. I was going about my business and not giving a single care about men in general. Then this mthrfckr comes around makes me lose my focus.

Now I cannot seem to get this dude out of my head.

My head is pretty much on-point. Logically it tells me if anyone is ever interested in me—they will make a move, especially if they have my number. I completely agree with its viewpoints on how if this guy never texts me again it will be his loss. If this guy doesn't realize how awesome I am, it is his missed opportunity. If I never see him again, well then… it wasn't meant to be in any way, shape or form. Ok. I accept that.

But the parts that make me a woman… my vagina and my heart. THEY ARE GOING BATSHIT CRAZY RIGHT NOW. Batshit crazy.

I. HATE. IT.

I cannot. Make it stop. 

I don't want to think about him. I don't want to stare at my phone to see if I got a text. I don't want to daydream about the possibilities… I don't want any of that.

Ok, ok. I do. I fucking do.

I am annoyed at myself from how I went from being completely indifferent to the concept of a non-platonic male interest, to blatantly asking this guy "so are you gonna text me?"

UGH. *Two fingers to the dome in a shoot-myself-fashion*

WTF. I neverrrrrrrrrrr do that. I'm never that girl. My pride will eat me alive before I show that much interest too fast too soon. I require obvious amounts of attention and direct approaches from the opposite sex before I even try. I completely understand the concept of the "modern woman" and "I can text him first" but I am so old-fashioned in this sense and I have the pride of a lion. I don't work that way. Also—I'm just blind to it, I'm oblivious to guys being interested in me. I never assume and most of the time my mind shoots all of these so-called "advances" down.

So what now huh?

So far the battle is two vs. one. My vagina + heart are kicking my brain's ass. I need this war to be over soon.

Lady parts—PLEASE GIVE UP! I can't take it much longer... Gahhh.

Fucks Given: Zero

A year and some change ago I was a completely different person. I was a perpetually nagging wife trying to force-fit my negligent husband into an ultra-conventional lifestyle. I was type-A on five thousand levels. I was the epitome of a neurotic control freak. I was only doing what I thought was right at the time. We were trying to start a family, we were saving money to buy a house, I was just trying to get us there…

I put so much time, effort and stress into this picturesque life I created with ex-Mr. We were so fucking good on paper. Eventually he could no longer reciprocate the level of commitment I was putting in and we fell apart.

I woke up one day and the universe told me: "You can't control shit."

I was lost.

That's when I received my biggest life lesson to date. I learned that there is no point in worrying about matters you have zero power over. Its amazing how much unnecessary energy we exert into stressing about situations in which we cannot control. And trust me—there is so much we have no control over.

Things work out when and how they are supposed to. If you believe in a higher power, this is known as faith. If something is meant to be—it will be. Its the only reason I've survived this long. Without my belief system I would not be as strong or motivated as I am today.

I will always and forever be a responsible person, that will never change. I'm just done stressing out my brain and body with issues that may or may not be as significant as I assumed in the first place.

Fucks given: ZERO.

 

Asshole Swag

The single game is ridic. At the current moment I am not paying attention to any dudes, nor am I in search of non-platonic companions of the opposite sex. I'm having too much fun not worrying about the process and I FEEL FREE AS FUCK. Sidenote, that doesn't mean I don't like the attention. Hey now… I still like the compliments (see previous blog).

Truth be told, I can't find anyone that interests me that isn't already taken. 

I have two humps you have to get over: 
1. I have to find you physically attractive. 
2. I must find you interesting.

Sometimes I don't necessarily find guys that attractive but I give them my time of day for the benefit of the doubt, and then I figure out that I don't find them interesting… Hah. I'm a jerk.

I've learned I have a tendency to gravitate towards men with asshole swag. They are quick-witted and funny enough to trade insults with—without being insulting. They keep me on my toes. They speak in hashtags, they know song lyrics and basically we are on the same level. They are usually just as pretentious and opinionated as I am. We don't necessarily have to have the same views, but it works. They aren't afraid to call me out. They aren't afraid to disagree with me. I manage to stay vulgar yet articulate with them. And at the same damn time—we connect because we like the same things.

This is dangerous territory because this is basically the same dynamic I had with ex-Mr. Only difference is… I'm just trying to find someone who will treat me better than the best he could give, cause it wasn't sufficient.

I'm the worst right? Trying to find an asshole that isn't an asshole to me… Bwahaha. Why can't I just like a nice guy?
 
Because... I'm me. #Duh

Short Sell

I've sold myself short my entire life. If you haven't already noticed I am THEE WORST at accepting a compliment. I will fight you a little bit or I will have you explain what you mean exactly. I'm not trying to fish (OK, MAYBE SOMETIMES), I'm just wondering why you think so and I'm trying to get your exact context.

What's so hard about taking a compliment right?

I don't know. Its just difficult for me. 

I'm a weird person. I have no other explanation. I am Sam from "Garden State" embodied into an actual human being. I try to act cool and hide my quirkiness as best as I can, but it comes out… and then you have the real me.

I have the swag of a true Leo, but at the same time I'm constantly trying to keep myself on a humble level, as to not inflate my head. (There goes another one of my personality dualities.) I guess I'm trying' to keep it confident and not cocky.

The first time I heard someone describe me as "sexy" after separating from ex-Mr I freaked the hell out. I had no idea how to react. "Why the hell would he say that about me?" It made me incredibly uncomfortable but at the same time—its been a long time since I've felt that flattered.

The other day ex-Mr told me I've changed, that I had a new energy and it was "sexier." Honest to God and swear on my life… I laughed for three straight minutes like it was the funniest thing I've ever heard. Don't get it twisted, ex-Mr WAS NOT hitting on me. He was just letting me know he was noticing my growth as an individual and it was good for me. After the three minutes of goofy laughter I finally thanked him.

I'm learning. Sometimes I'm still caught off guard by what I feel are unwarranted compliments. But now instead of questioning "why," I respond with genuine appreciation. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you… you're far too kind.

 

The Reasons

Its been almost a year since my world and marriage turned upside down. While I won't go into any details, I remember the specific day vividly. Its amazing how much a year can make a difference in your life.

I've grown leaps and bounds. I've accepted what is and what isn't. I've learned that I have zero control over anything other than the decisions I make myself. I cannot steer anyone into what the correct choices are or even influence the man I loved most to be the best person he can be.

I'm currently in the middle of one hell of a journey.

There are ups and downs, sunny days and storms where it rains so fucking much I end up momentarily drowning. 

Like any difficult period in life you won't really know why you had to experience rough times until its all over. I have no idea what the rationale is behind the demise of my marriage. Its so much bigger than me, I would've tried everything to save it, but it only takes one person to ruin it. I could no longer try to pick up the pieces by myself. He was no longer in it, and hey… that's fine.

There are reasons… we just don't know them yet, and I'm ok with that.

Because one fine day it will all make sense.

It will hit us like a truck, we might experience love ten-folds to what we had with each other and we will probably become so evolved as individuals that our growing pains will all be worth it.

I'm waiting on the reasons, cause I know they're out there.

I know HE's out there. Who ever he is... =P

 

Bound 2

'Ye's "Yeezus" leaked and new music spreads like fire at work.  

I will cosign this song a thousand times. Its such an accurate portrayal of my life right now. Its like looking into a mirror... I sound like an idiot identifying with a Kanye song so strongly, but I'm not going to lie. This song was written for me specifically.

-------

All them other niggas lame, and you know it now
When a real nigga hold you down, you supposed to drown
Bound (Bound to fall in love)
Bound (Bound to fall in love)

-------

What you doin' in the club on a Thursday?
She say she only here for her girl birthday
They ordered champagne but still look thirsty
Rock Forever 21 but just turned thirty

-------

Close your eyes and let the word paint a thousand pictures
One good girl is worth a thousand bitches

That last line?

The truth. Real talk. One-fuckin-hundred.

 

Chris 9.5

If you don't know me personally I'm great at telling stories, haha—at least I think so. I'm usually very enthusiastic and I speak animatedly with hand gestures and everything. Today you will just have to settle for a blog version. 

Back in December I got this crazy crush on this guy I met at an EDM party (read: rave). I nicknamed him "Chris 9.5" because I previously met a Chris a month earlier (separate crush—different story) and this dude was close to a dime as they get (tall, good-looking, amazing dancer and FIT). I noticed him about 10 people in front of me and to my right. I wasn't trying to fish for dudes that night, he was just in my peripheral vision and I couldn't stop staring at him. Finally I told my sister how cute he was and apparently he noticed me too. 

Somehow he ended up right next to me. Slick.

We shared pathetic exchanges of various interactions all night: me asking him questions, him offering me gum, us dancing… but nothing truly saying "HEY, I fuckin' digg you." He was obviously closed off yet still thirsty for my attention. At the end of the night I left the door wide open for him to ask for my number, but nope. 

No bites. He didn't even manage to remember my name. 

All I got was a "Nice to meet you, what was your name again?" 

Wahhh….

My present company tried to assure me that I should chalk it up to the fact that he probably had a girlfriend, but he still enjoyed the attention. Ok. Ok. I guess I can accept that… but it was never confirmed.

Today I RANDOMLY found his Instagram account. Honest to God. We have three degrees of separation between us. He is as cute as I remember and his body is bangin. BANGIN. I'm sure he lives in a gym. He has at least a dozen+ pictures of him shirtless. No lie.

Since I now have this amazing stalker resource and to ease up on my ego I check to see if he has a GF, sure enough he does. She dates far back enough to the party I met him, everyone's assumption was true.

As shallow as this makes me, I am relieved. BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I'll be honest, I'm not used to guys giving me that much attention then not going in for the kill. 

My second order of business was to get any indication of how old he was. There were multiple clues, so I had a good idea that he was young, I was dying for an exact age though.

Drumroll please….

HOMEBOY IS 24 YEARS OLD.

Ugh. I'm sure this is going to be a constant problem for me. Men will always assume I am younger than I actually am, I will always try to add years onto their age (even though its obvious that they are younger, OBVIOUS). Haha. I'll roll with it though… let's see where that gets me.

 

Regressing

I would rather rush home to make dinner for two, or at least attempt to order the healthiest take-out I can find, instead of accepting the first invitation I get to kick it after work hours.

I would rather watch a DVD I've seen a million times, than visit a bar I've never been to before. 

I wouldn't mind fighting someone for bed space, rather than me waking up alone every day sprawled out like a five-year-old kid.

I would rather buy a round of drinks for my friends back home, than try to get a free drink off Mr. Random, because I don't want to talk to him anyway. 

I would rather chill in pang bahay (house clothes) and fart on the couch than contemplate whether my makeup for the evening requires false eye lashes or if heels are really necessary for my outfit.

I would rather be taking prenatal vitamins on the regular than chase hang overs with various supplements on those really bad mornings.

I prefer "Mrs.," although not necessarily being his.

Some days I miss my old life, my old security. I thought I arrived at the life I was meant to be living, turns out it was just a false start.  

There goes those tiny violins again... 

 

Healthy Shit

I've been giving in to poor choices and bad behavior all year, the indulgence has been a little too real. While I don't regret any of it (fuckit, I'm semi-young), I should be taking better care of myself mentally and physically.

When I finally got some clarity and lifted the ugly clouds surrounding me for the past couple of weeks I came up with the following: 

  • Call home more often.
  • Set up regular FaceTime with the homies. 
  • PRINT PICTURES OF MY LIFE. I'm constantly forgetting to save my memories in an analog format. I have nothing to show for basically the past decade of my life, I need to keep up with this.
  • I started eating lunch in the kitchen at work. I'm in search of work-homies, so far this is working out nicely. 
  • Stopped eating carbs for breakfast and lunch M-F. This has always been easy for me, but when I fall off and start eating bacon, egg and cheese bagels its hard to stop. So far, so good.
  • Only drink for celebrations, not "fuck, I need a drink" situations. Hard rule. This doesn't mean I don't "eat my feelings" instead. #GUILTYASFUCK
  • Expand my NY boundaries. I don't go above 26th st. (where I work) and I only go into Brooklyn when I go into Williamsburg. This is complete snob shit, and I'm tryin' to fix it. There's a major possibility I move into BK next month, so don't hate me yet.
  • I've gotten back in contact with everyone trying to kick it with me since they found out I moved. No. I'm not super popular, but somehow God managed to help me run into people I forgot transplanted too. Seriously, I ran into them in random places and they managed to recognize me and holler. 
  • Either join a gym, start running again, jump rope, or work out in some shape or form. I have no excuse why I fell off this wagon, I promised myself I would never become sedentary. Its about time to go back to more active ways.
  • I looked up Tahitian classes cause I figure I need healthy hobbies. I've had this discussion with a few of my girls, collecting passport stamps is NOT a hobby. Drinking is not a hobby. Watching baseball but not playing is NOT a hobby. So anyways, I found a studio a block away from work and I've been in contact with the instructor. I haven't danced since high school, but I start Tuesday and hopefully I stick to it. 
  • Speaking of baseball, I'm about to lose my throwing arm. Ex-Mr trained me to throw properly, I have a decent glove and everything… I should get back on that too. I'm not saying I can play a legit game of baseball—cause I choke each and every time, but I can fuck with some catch. It takes two people to play catch though… WACK.
  • I'm considering having my bike shipped over here for the summer. I have a $800 bike collecting dust back at my parents house. I used to ride on a single-speed in hill-city-SF, why the hell shouldn't I ride over here? I just answered my own question.

Lesgo.  Time to get back at it...