Photo Archive

The entire holiday break has ruined my normal sleeping schedule. I decided that if I can't sleep I might as well do something productive, so I chose to go through my photo archive to find images to print. I'm terrible at having photos printed, I just don't do it—ever.

It wasn't my brightest idea, cause I went through 2012 and now tears are currently streaming down my face. WEAKSAUCE. (#defensemechanism)

I'm looking at myself smiling in these photos, knowing very well that I was trying my absolute best to keep my shit completely together. I was trying to prove to myself and the world that my marriage would work out. But he was done with me, way before I even realized it.

As the year progressed his smile gradually faded as he posed next to me, photo after photo. I saw less and less of the genuine happiness he used to have, standing next to me. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to hold onto us.

He couldn't.

I'm only crying because I'm looking at myself and I feel for that woman—whose heart fucking broke, whose world fucking shattered. I was way too young and selfless to endure such pain, but I endured it, cause I loved him. 

Obviously I came out ok. Dear world, I promise I am ok, my wounds are all closed at this point. But right now I'm experiencing something similar to how some of you might sympathize with me, I empathize for myself—for the younger woman in my photos, who lost all sense of love, trust and security.

The silver lining is that she has no idea… how good will still come into her life, how doors will open,  how opportunities and adventure will present themselves. Hell—I'm not even sure what that entails, so lets keep it movin',

2013, in recap

I moved to New York City then Brooklyn. It was difficult to leave the Bay, if I remember correctly I changed the flight of my one-way ticket 3x. I lived in 3 separate apartments and collectively lived with 12 different room mates. I freelanced for 1.5 weeks before I was offered a full-time position. I left the country twice and visited home 3x. I taught myself to be selfish and racked up the most hours of "me time" in my life—it was integral. I turned 30 years old. I've gone on a walk-of-shame home, only to be caught by my room mate in the kitchen. I've gone on a walk-of-shame straight to work, I don't recommend that to anyone, haha. I've gone on 5 first dates. I found out that I am a magnet for unavailable men, trust me (this is a blog in itself). I've made amazing relationships with people who were just mutual friends, co-workers and the people I've lived with. I've made a home for myself on the other side of the country. I've adapted and thrived, all amidst letting go of the the only relationship I've known my entire adult life.

Thanks 2013, you were good to me. I hoped you would be. 

2014—I see you.

Solo, but never alone

Before Thanksgiving I received a random submission from an anonymous woman with nothing but kind words and love and support. After drunkenly walking from my company holiday party to a nearby bar my coworker shares with me that she loves my blog, I had no idea. From time to time an old friend from high school sends me messages of genuine love and encouragement. Every so often my homies quote my written words and reference posts directly.

So I realized—for the past year my journey has been solo, but I was NEVER alone.

By simply reading this you have kept me company. 

I only hoped to keep a chronicle of my life as I progressed through this new chapter, but according to you—you're all riding this roller coaster with me. You're there when my heart fucking aches, when I'm frustrated with men and life, when I'm in good spirits, when I fail and when I succeed.

Thank you, again and again. Its humbling to be followed by such amazing people.

Social Media Sexy

I read something on Thought Catalog today about how Instagram Envy is a real thing. Perhaps its a true struggle for some, but I'm realistic. You all fight like cats & dogs on the bad days when you're not gushing over how much you love one another on corny posts; you're actually NOT the prettiest while in sweatpants, hair ties and chillin' with no makeup on; AND you eat salad just about every lunch, just so you can consume that 2K cal burger and fries. That's all perfectly fine, I'm not hatin', cause that's me too. I was a master of painting pretty pictures in 2012. #Guilty

Anyways, I digress, because that's not the point of this post—my point is this…

I've noticed that people really try to beef up their "attractiveness points" via IG/FB. But here's what I believe: unless someone is already previously attracted to you—I'm not convinced this is an effective method. Real talk. Sorry, not sorry.

Unless I already find you good-looking / imagined us in bed / am ready to run away to Bora Bora with you—then your gym / personal chef / hobbies / *endearing quality inserted here* photos do absolutely nothing for me. Its no reflection of you as a man, I'm sure you're an amazing human being who would make an excellent boyfriend / husband / father someday, its just that spark isn't there and your social media photos will never give you that extra edge, for me—personally.

This goes for myself just as well. I'm sure that most of my photos of which I portray my wife-type attributes don't add to my attractiveness scale if you don't already care. Yes, I drink whiskey, I like sports, I have the sense of humor of a 17 year old boy AND I can cook sinigang… but if you're not already feelin' me, well then, what does it all really matter?

HOWEVER…

When the opposite has occurred, when you are actually following someone you find attractive—GOOD LUCK. You can drown in their sexy characteristics. What do you mean, he has a passport filled with stamps? He likes the new Childish Gambino album too? Did he just reference Anchorman in his caption? HE LIKES KIDS?!? HE LIKES KIDS?!?

FUCK. Wet panties everywhere.

I'm just sayin. More power to those of you who know how to use your IG/FB identities to their full potential, cause there's probably someone out there taking it all in (or not).

Illest Bitch Alive

I'm sick.

(Yeah yeah, I always say I never get sick. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? I've never had to endure an East Coast winter before…)

I'm sick and I'm single and its wack as fuck. I would love to go straight home without trying to figure out the most efficient route to get everything I need so I can avoid the intense cold weather as much as possible. I would love it if there was someone else to get my daytime Sudafed, night time Mucinex and high-pulp orange juice, instead of me. I would be so thankful if someone else could Seamless me udon soup while I go straight to the shower, cause I feel disgusting and I need to feel relieved of this ASAP. Or better yet, have that shit already waiting…

GAH.

Me and my single girl problems… 

BTW. Pun is totally intended in the title, see what I did there? Thanks. ;-)

Mine

Personal weakness = Drake. You already knew that.

Shadows

I'll give babies to the first dude to play this song for me, without my instruction.

Tuesday afternoon, I ain't got shit to do, but fall in love with you.

Dissolution

I asked him for a divorce on Black Friday of last year, over breakfast at Black Bear Diner, whilst consuming my favorite pancakes in the world. Go figure, I would need a fatty meal to give me enough comfort and balls to tell the only man I ever loved that shit was over.

He took my request pretty well. His eyes welled up and he asked me to explain the difference between separation and divorce, he then asked me if divorced people could ever remarry. It was a funny question, but it was no surprise to me—coming from him.

I took a year to deal, to process my emotions / thoughts / shit.

We signed our official divorce papers the Monday prior to this recent Thanksgiving. I met him at the paralegal's office. He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and we proceeded to sign our "dissolution of marriage" in front of a notary public, at the same damn time. FYI, people don't do that. You don't need to be at the same place, signing together. I joked with him, "let's be like Dwayne Wade and put these papers on social media." I'm lightweight immature most of the time, but I definitely use my sense of humor as a coping mechanism. He didn't really laugh. I could see he was in a weird trance from the moment we entered the office. 

The paralegal wished us both luck on our individual futures and explained that we should be officially divorced by the end of the year. We walked out of the office, I stopped him to ask him if he was ok, and I gave his ass a long hug. We discussed our situation for a minute, how it was the end of an era, and the closing of the longest chapter in our lives, and then because we're weird as hell… we proceeded to get lunch at a nearby restaurant (as planned).  

We didn't talk about our divorce during lunch, as weird as that sounds, we just kind of caught up. We split the bill at the end, we never do that, usually one of us throws down a card and says "I got it." I don't think either of us wanted to treat on our "divorce lunch." Makes sense.

When it was time to split up he had tears in his eyes. We wouldn't see each other for the rest of my trip home. I hugged him and told him we would both be ok. Then I let him go, cause I couldn't stand him crying in front of me, because then I would too, and I was doing so well.

I was out of it for the entire day. I was physically present in all conversations I was in… but my mind was far far away. It didn't hit me until I was alone in the car, driving down on 101 to get back to the South Bay. While Young Jeezy's "I Do" played through my iPhone, I finally cried. I cried as soon as I got in my car, I didn't stop until I passed SFO, I was in traffic, so its longer than you think. BTW, I firmly believe that "I Do" is a legit love song, Andre 3000's verse alone is pure poetry. Truth.

I texted him that I wasn't grasping what the fuck we were doing until it was all over, and there was nothing/no one to distract me any more. He responded with kind words. Its funny right? I found comfort in the man I was divorcing, and vice versa for him. We're funny like that. I can't explain.

So here I am… back in Brooklyn, eventually I will receive our papers signed by a judge, confirming our divorce—just in time for the freshest start ever, 2014.

Evil

Evil is when I specifically tell you that fresh haircuts on men are my absolute weakness and then you respond with "ohh that reminds me," and come back from a barber 20 minutes later. WTF IS THAT?!? Then I have to look at you for the rest of the day. I can't… I can't even. Jerk.

Evil is when you close out our conversation with a Drake line. Fuck you. You know what that does to me… Asshole. Your lines are getting old tho, you need to dig deeper for new material. My personal cache is pretty vast, you need to do work.

Evil is when you insult me (cause I really do love being called out on all the right things) and then hit me with a compliment five seconds later. You diabolical fucking mastermind, I hate you.

You all know exactly who you are.

But I'm not quite innocent myself—cause I know exactly when to turn on my witty clever persona to make you laugh. I know when to pull a specifically pieced outfit out of my closet and wear it that day. I know to keep this short A-line haircut, cause you say its the best look on me. I know how to walk mean as fuck, down the sidewalk, next to you. I know when to turn it all on.

As evil as all of you are—I'm pretty villainous myself, in the absolute best way possible.

Thankful

I'm thankful for those of you who text me at random hours when I'm home in NY, even if you manage to forget its 2am, my time. I'd rather be thought of, than forgotten—at any time of the day or night.

I'm thankful for the job I get up for every weekday, even though my coworkers aren't exactly as enthusiastic as I am about our workplace.

I'm thankful for my amazing room mates, who I manage to catch in the am and send off with "have a good day." In the evening we reconnect with the simple "so how was your day?" They're always 100% genuine about it, and ready to talk if I need an ear. Also, you know you live with good people when they manage to clean the outside of a garbage can. 

I'm thankful for all the coworkers I've officially converted into homies. I never expected to hear "I miss you" from the opposite coast when I'm home in the Bay, but I do.

I'm thankful for my family and their understanding of letting me handle my shit on my own, 3k miles away. I'm sure its difficult as fuck being a parent and watching your daughter go through heartache and divorce all by herself on the other side of the country. I'm stubborn, so I wouldn't have it any other way, and they get that.

I'm thankful that although I am jaded and cynical I still have a ridiculous amount of faith that one day the right dude will come along and stupid love songs will make sense again.

I'm thankful for each and every opportunity that has brought my life to this exact point. There's a reason for everything, and I stand by that.

Round-UP

There's the one who hit on me as I was leaving church. I shook this guy's hand during "peace be with you" and automatically thought this fool was good looking. I took forever to leave because I wanted to Instagram a photo. He fell back on purpose and struck up a conversation with me and we ended up exchanging email addresses. Unfortunately he was just visiting from D.C., but the worst part was… he used "gosh" at least three times in every email he sent me. I believe in using profanity frequently, so "gosh" doesn't swing with me. After about two or three exchanges of emails, I had to stop. Gosh, sorry.

There's the one I went out with, and thought I would see again… Until the drunk-texted the life out of me. I don't do drunk texts, receive or send—it does not matter. First of all, he full-out told me he was drunk and wanted to see me, I politely denied him and attempted to set up a date for later that week. He still insisted on seeing me and I politely refused once more. He insisted again and when I didn't respond his texts got super weird and made absolutely no sense. And that was the end of that.

There's the one I met on the 4th of July. He quoted "Versace" out of nowhere and I internally freaked out in amazement because I swear no one knew that song—yet. When I told him that I loved both Mayer Hawthorne and Hall & Oates he played videos of them for me while we chilled on his rooftop. This is the one who made my lady parts go crazy. I liked this one—but go figure, he never texted me.

There's the one who had a bottle of Laphroaig 18 (unopened) on his fridge. When I asked him if he liked scotch, he replied: "No, I got that as a gift. Do you want some? I don't even drink it." Obviously… Dude, thats an $85 bottle of scotch! This is also the one who thinks its ok to leave me hanging on supposed date times and texts me "hey" at 1 in the morning. Also, I have NO IDEA what this guy's last name is. Yeah—first name basis only.

There's the one who told me he didn't like football. I asked him why the he didn't like football and he didn't have a viable answer for me. I couldn't understand why. In my mind he will always be "the one who doesn't like football." Our first date was also our last.

When it Rains...

There are periods of time when I receive no attention from the opposite sex. Zero. I go through entire days bored because there is no one to G-chat with, my phone lacks text activity and I experience extended lapses of involuntary celibacy (I still stand by the fact that I'm not a hoe, however as a grown ass single woman—I still get mine).

The dry spells are the worst. I begin to doubt myself and wonder why the universe has decided to be so cruel to me.

Then when I feel like it's time to join a convent and forget about men altogether—an arbitrary down pour of attention arrives at my doorstep. There is no rhyme or reason and I have absolutely no control of when this happens. Trust me, I'm analytic as hell. I can't figure it out.

All of the sudden a random man will hit on me and it will start a chain reaction.

Rando will hit on me > Mr. Summertime Fine decides it's a good time to get under my radar (again) and proceeds to send a text my way > Mr. History calls me to catch up > New New Work Crush (yeah, there's a new one) decides to take the seat next to me and chat for 10 minutes to shoot the shit and talk about dating (mind you, we have absolutely no projects or reason to work together/speak to each other) > Mr. Bad News Bear is present in all this, making sure he still has a place on the team roster > and I am simultaneously G-chatting with at least three of these men during the day.

All of this has occurred in the matter of the past 24 hours, and its not the first time I've gotten overwhelmed by the coincidental attention. I can't tell you why or when or how… but when it rains, it pours.

However, I already know. I can't get accustomed to the days where its raining men, because another drought can spring up any time.