Go Away, Tiny Violins

I have been internally struggling all fucking day to stop myself from crying. It was brought on by the most random instance, a social media acquaintance did something amazing for his wife, and I was reminded of a different life.

See, this is where I differ from other single ladies. Key point: I was married. I knew exactly what it meant to share my life. I had already found great love. I said "good night" and "good morning" to the same man, day after day. I walked through part of my life with a partner, it was comforting and secure. And then I left all of it, because for my own sake/sanity I had to. 

I have been complaining about my single life recently. The weather is getting shitty, the holidays are coming and I've officially been single for a year. I'm fully aware that its been an amazing period of exponential growth and character building. I'm thankful for the time to heal and figure out who I am individually, but damn—this is enough. I've moved on… I want more out of life than the things I can only provide for myself, and I have always enjoyed being that counterpart for someone else. 

As I've previously mentioned, I just want to be kissed on the cheek and go out to dinner and discuss my day. I want to have a meaningful conversation with a man that wants to learn about me without any ulterior motives (because getting me into bed seems to be the fairly common one). I want to figure out what makes someone else tick, which producer he would enlist to create his superhero theme song, what's his favorite album of all time is or which fictional character he resonates with the most, and after a few more conversations and dates... How he likes his eggs cooked for breakfast. *Winking face here*

Sigh. I'm just trying to find greater love out there, but its lonely as fuck in the process. *tiny violins play again*

Versus

AKA "Greater Than Pt. 2"

Too Much > Pound Cake > Worst Behaviour > Own It

Spring Forward > Fall Back

Black Album > Blueprint

NY MTA >>> SF MUNI / BART

Rye Old Fashioned > Bourbon Old Fashioned

Savory Breakfast = Sweet Breakfast

Mitchell's > Bi-Rite

Comedy > Any other movie choice

Sangria > Bellinis > Mimosas

Central Park > Prospect Park > Golden Gate Park

Scruff > Clean Shaven (*Brand new preference, haha)

Men's Fall Wardrobe >>> Whatever they wear the rest of the year

Night Owl > Morning Person

Stumptown (Seattle) > Sightglass (SF) > NY coffee

MOTM > Anything Cudi will do, ever in his lifetime

Golden Gate Bridge > Brooklyn Bridge

Walking the BK Bridge > Walking the GG Bridge

Pickle backs (#allday) > Gingerale

MCHG > YEEZUS

Love > Lust

Elf > Home Alone 2 > Love Actually 

Facetime >>> Phone call >> Text (#WestCoast)

Rick Ross > Juicy J > French Montana

Too Much

I start every day with the NTWS version. However, this goes unrivaled:

YT109 - Sampha - Too Much/Happens. Out November 12th digitally. Pre-order the 7" vinyl here: http://smarturl.it/YT019sampha Written and Performed by Sampha. Produced by Emile Haynie. Visuals directed, produced and edited by Cherise Payne, shot by Jake Cizic. 'Too Much' is taken from the AA side single 'Too Much/Happens', released November 12th 2013, with 7" vinyl to follow on January 6th 2014.

The Divorcée

I was trying to find an article my friend at work sent me about the "Different Types of 30-year-old Single Guys." Instead I found the men's equivalent for women, and I found my definition. I have to say, its so on-point that I laughed for a good minute. It might as well have been labeled "Kate."

 #truth

You're a Good Girl, and you know it

I knew when I began this particular blog that I would come across some sort of backlash, it was inevitable. That's just one of the consequences I have to face for putting my life out there for public consumption. Just so ya'll know… up until very recently pretty much any feedback I've gotten has been 99.5% positive.

But word on the street is that I could be some sort of hoe.

I just literally laughed out loud.

By no means do I have to address any kind of rumors that somehow make it back to me. However, hey… why not? I have some time right now.

With the present circumstances I have been given—I have to say… I'm doing pretty fucking fantastic over here. I decided to choose myself over a man who could no longer be the husband he promised to be. I took every single piece of myself that was large enough to pick up and moved 3,000 miles to heal and superglue myself back together in peace, in a city I've always wanted to reside in. My estranged-and-not-yet-officially-divorced-husband is moving on in life, in ways that were not in the cards for us as a couple. Meanwhile I am here… with no shoulders to physically cry on—just the motivation to continue to keep moving forward, and hey… I'm doing amazing. 

Real talk. ONE-FUCKIN-HUNDRED.

I am the textbook definition of a victim in this divorce. I have no faults. I have no idea why anyone would even want to put any kind of negativity on me. It is undeserved and completely ridiculous.

But apparently it has come to my attention that I could be viewed as promiscuous. 

But really? Honestly? 

DO YOU ACTUALLY READ MY BLOG???

Just about every other post I publish is how I am on some high-horse, too good to hoe-it-out and with standards so high it is impossible to rack up my numbers game. Aside from my Second Virginity goal/post, I am a good girl and I know it. And for the record… I was wise as fuck to lose that second virginity asap. I refused to be ignorant. I refused to be clueless prey in a city full of sharks. 

Personally, I have way too much self respect to sleep around. I still think I'm a prize.

To be completely frank—if I did choose to live my life loosely with a different man in my bed from time to time, then thats my choice. I was thrown into this new chapter of my life without any say, why should I be judged on dealing with my lemons any which way I want? 

I enjoy sharing my life by means of this blog, but I don't appreciate people finding instances in which do not exist. How anyone could read my words and take away such a misconstrued view is absurd, because I like to think I'm a much better writer than that.

And I'm done… *drops mic and walks of stage*

So, Last Night...

SO, I LIED.

I'm a little bit thirsty.

Hey, I'm a woman keeping her eyes out and when I see a nice tall glass of water—FUCK, I suddenly realize how dehydrated I am. I'm pretty parched yo.

Last night I encountered the future love of my life. I'm kidding, he's a bartender and he has no idea I'm alive. Plus, I have a hard rule to keep bartenders off-limits, they're bad news bears status. They interact with thirsty-ass women on a nightly basis, I can't be having that. I'm by no means the jealous type, but hah… Hard rule, no bartenders. (Ok fine, this one would've been an exception to the rule.)

Anyways, I spoke to him three given times last night:

1. To ask what the drink in the fancy glass server was. I then proceeded to order it, whatever the fuck it was, because he was serving it up. It could've been horse urine and I would've accepted, paid and tipped him for it.
2. To ask him his name and to introduce myself and my girl.
3. To ask him if I bought him a shot if he would take it with us. He gave me a smile and told me he couldn't, he wasn't drinking that night. 

I stayed at the bar counter the entire time I was at this place. I was weak for his teal paid shirt, his ability to stay on-beat to every song the DJ played and his cleeeeeaaaan ass haircut. Ohh and his tall stature and good-looking face are obvious givens, but I feel the need to include that. And I told you, I'm a fucking sucker for a good/fresh haircut on men. His side part with the comb-over? I would have his babies… or at least practice trying to make them, over and over (and over).

If you know me personally, this is plenty of interaction for me. This is me being assertive. I basically gave him the door to walk though. I stayed in range, I had a clear view of him the entire time and vice versa, I initiated conversation AND I tried to buy his ass a drink.

Please give me five thousand points and some hi-fives.

I know enough to leave some bait on the hook and see if they bite. Unfortunately this one didn't bite. It was a fishing failure, but thats ok… cause at least I tried last night, which is more I can say for other nights I go out. I'm tired of being approached by men I have absolutely no interest in. Its about time I start to make things happen for myself.

Wish me luck. 

Always Hungry, Never Thirsty

My love life sucks. It suckssss. Extra emphasis. 

I've never been one to chase men or try very hard with the opposite sex. My pride doesn't allow me to engage in such behavior. I choke and I'm over-analytical. When I'm genuinely attracted to a man I'm unbelievably shy and awkward during preliminary interactions. Its just about the only time in life where you can characterize me as "shy." I get over it eventually, I just need obvious coaxing. More power to you ladies who can see a man across the room and walk up and say the first words to him. I don't have that ability. I put a majority of that responsibility on men. I'll give you eye contact and smile, good luck with the rest. BTW, thats your "in" right there. *Jodeci's "Come and Talk to Me" plays at that exact moment.* 

I refuse to deliberately look for a man. I figure that portion of my life will come together when its meant to, I don't need to try and control it myself. I not thirsty enough as far as that goes.

On the other side of the spectrum I have my career/work life and it is the polar opposite.

I'm fuckin' killin' it at work. No apologies and no modesty. I just completed my first all-digital project in my career and its a huge accomplishment for me/great addition to my portfolio. To be honest when I was first pulled onto the project I didn't know if I was the right designer for it, I was intimidated as hell. My comfort zone is mainly in print design, so when they explained the project involved landing pages and a Facebook application I began internally freaking the fuck out. However as life experience has showed me time after time—you grow leaps and bounds when you're forced out of your comfort zone, as long as you're ready to accept the challenge. 

I have found myself hungrier than ever to continue growing as a designer and to personally pave the path for my career.

So maybe I'm not in NY to find love (this city is crazy anyway), maybe I'm here for some serious professional growth. Hey, I'll take it. 

Always hungry, never thirsty.

Inconvenient Love

Loving you was so fucking inconvenient for me for the entire duration of our relationship. I went out of my way, all the damn time, driven by the need to do nice things for you. Why? Cause I loved you, madly.

I would walk to the bakery near my job and bring you back cookies at the end of the day. I would bring you back cookies from any bakery I passed by, at any given time. I was always thinking of you. I was so thoughtful it was disgusting.

I would leave work early when you were hopelessly sick at home. Men, I freaking swear… Y'all are extra weak the moment you get hit with a cold or the flu. You're all like children when you're sick. I could never leave you alone that kawawa. 

I would call you when I was grocery shopping at Berkeley Bowl during my lunch hour, cause I knew you liked whenever I made tacos, but I always called to confirm. Then I would be a champ and commute back to SF, on two modes of public transit, with groceries in tow.

I would make sure your ass fell asleep before I did, because I knew if I fell asleep first, you would never get a good night's rest. I put you to bed every night, literally. 

I would purposefully seat us so you never needed to sit next to a stranger, not in an airplane, not in church, not in any place in which your comfort would be compromised. It didn't bother me as much as it did for you, so it was no problem.

I always put you first. Always. There was never a time when I minded. I never did, I loved you that unconditionally. I loved you so blindly.

So that's what I want, someday (soon, please, over here God, thanks)—I want the "you can have the last bite / wait until you fall asleep before I do / buy you junk food and bring it back cause I thought of you / make dinner before you get home / have amazing sex in the middle of the night even though we're both tired / leave work when you're sick and take care of you / drive you to get ice cream right now / completely fucking inconvenient... love."

Cause its my turn. SHEEEEEEEEEEET.

Jameson

Its Saturday night and I am at home. 

I spent the day hungover and battling some type of food-poisoning simultaneously, Seamlessing Chinese food and watching just about every Kevin Hart standup video available on Netflix. Last night I had a personal goal to be assertive and speak to a new man. I super failed though, because the only man I met last night was named Jameson and he's nothing new to me. Plus, I had too much of him and he totally took advantage of me last night. 

Stupid Irishman.

Second Virginity

So being kicked onto my ass into singledom after being in a relationship for 11+ years has been an experience—to say the least. I am on one hell of a ride and although I complain about dating in general, I am still enjoying myself.

I was thrown into single life with my number being only 1. It has blown the mind of everyone I've told since separating from ex-Mr. In reality my history is simple, I fell in love when I was 17 and we dated long-term, got engaged and married. There was no time for anyone else, we never broke up, not once. We never even took a break. I was never curious about experiencing sex with other men. If 1 was my number for the rest of my life I had no problems with that, there was no question in my mind.

But life isn't always a stupid fairytale and sometimes we are rejected by the ones we love. So fine… obviously my number wasn't going to be 1 for much longer. I realized I was being released into single life for the first time as an adult, at 29 years old, with my number being 1—I needed to do something about it.

I called this period of time my "second virginity" and real talk, I decided I wanted to lose that second virginity AS SOON AS FUCKING POSSIBLE. I was on a mission. I had my girls in on it. I went to Las Vegas to try and have a one-night-stand, cause "what happens in Vegas," well… you know. But I failed. I didn't get any in Vegas. How can anyone fail to have sex in the most sinful city on the planet filled with the thirstiest men, you ask? Well… I know, its because I am me. Apparently losing your second virginity is just as nerve-wrecking as your actual virginity.

However Vegas wasn't a complete bust, after two sex-less nights, my girls and I woke up on Monday morning, still in our hotel and planted a seed with a guy back home through texts. It was a ridiculous exchange along the lines of "hey, are you down? she's down." 

Honest, it was that casual, and yeah… he was down.

I didn't actually lose my second virginity until about 1.5 months after Vegas, and when I did…

I was painfully awkward. Painfully. Awkward. Its already fucking awkward realizing I was going to get naked and intimate with only the second dude in my life—but I barely knew him at the time and he was completely aware of my awkwardness. He even called me out on it. I always envisioned being perfectly buzzed or slightly drunk when the time came, because liquid courage can take me pretty far, but no… I was sober as hell. Here I was… trying to be sexy but reacting in all the wrong ways to intimate touch. Just so all of you know, I have the largest personal space bubble, so sex… man, sex is a whole other level. Eventually we got through the initial awkwardness and I successfully lost my second virginity, as much as I cringe at my embarrassing presence.

Fast forward months later… Obviously I wasn't as terrible as I thought because we are still in contact at this point and he somehow gets the information out of me that he was only my second. As if my second virginity experience was not mortifying enough, he figures it out and responds with a somewhat simple "ohh, this makes sense now." He followed up with a thousand questions after that.

At that point I found the largest rock available and crawled under it. I still live there sometimes, anytime he brings these stories up.

...and thats how I lost my second virginity. True story.

For the Record

I have about fitty-thousand unpublished blog entires. All of which are not yet good enough or subjects that are no longer relevant, waiting in blog purgatory. I wish I could write something new every night and keep you leaving satisfied, I try, I really do.

But can I just thank you, for coming back?

And thank you for randomly emailing/messaging me words of support and love EXACTLY when I need it the most? Your timing is ridiculous, I swear it is.

A million thanks. My appreciation is beyond words.

NY, I LOVE YOU

Ok, so real talk, I was naively optimistic about finding love in NYC. I had real hopes of finding a new man to complement my East Coast life. I was positive about this happening even when my girl (who was a five-year NY veteran) warned me about the real struggle of women trying to find a man in New York. I finally understood the forewarnings about a month after she left and went back to California. Hah.

In fact, I have since come back down to Earth with my expectations/views on NY men. I probably have the most pessimistic view ever. I give up. I gave up about three months ago.

My brain was filled with ridiculously simple lady-fantasies.

I had one where I am riding through a country road, appreciating East Coast fall foliage while holding the man who's driving hand.

I had another where I am enjoying a 5-star meal during NY Restaurant Week, sitting across from a dude who can appreciate the food just as much as I do.

Then there's the really simple one where I am just waiting to cross the street and he steals a long, deep kiss.

I had hopes of falling IN love in New York City.

But you know what happened instead?

I fell in love WITH New York City. I should've known. I always loved this city, but being in love with it is a whole new experience.

I love when strangers share a moment of kindness, like a man helping a lady carry a stroller up subway stairs. I love it when I need to cab it back on the Manhattan bridge and I stare directly at its neighboring BK version. I love it when I walk miles, unknowingly, because the days are that beautiful and the nights are mild. I love seeing the Empire State building lit up and trying to figure out how the colors are relevant. I love how every weekend is a freakin' adventure, cause even though I don't believe Mr. Right is right around the corner, its fun as hell pretending he is, and hey… maybe he actually is (I guess all hope is not completely lost). I love the hustle and bustle. I love the life. 

I love you, New York City.